Anniversary, Brittany’s Birthday, & Wipeout
Wipeout 64 has officially become like riding a bike to me. I played it just now after a year of not playing it and I was surprised at my skill. One can’t just play that game, one has to get used to it and it takes time. Some say that game is just like F-Zero, but it’s not. F-Zero is about brawn and Wipeout is about finesse. F-Zero lets one barge through curves and other racers without it affecting your lap time much, but one can’t do that in Wipeout. To me Wipeout is the perfect metaphor for performing a piece on a musical instrument. It’s a perfectionist game. I have tell myself “remember to swing left on that curve…don’t forget to dip your nose down that slope…” Just like when I used to practice guitar, I’d be like “don’t forget to come into that arpeggio with your middle finger…don’t forget to prepare your arm for those hammers…” If I didn’t remember, my piece would be slightly crippled from that point on. Just like in Wipeout. If I was a fifth of a second behind, my race was lost. I should practice…guitar, that is. It’s fun (when the piece is not too frustrating) and it’s the closes thing to meditation I can achieve.
Yesterday I gave Brittany her birthday gift. Half-naked and wet, I washed her car. Not just soaked it in water and half-assed scrubbed it, I detailed it. Interior and all. Yessi helped me in multiple ways. She brought Brittany over to our place. I told her to park at the office because “they’re towing.”
“Really? Towing? Since when?”
“Since now. Park it next to the handicapped spot. That’s the best place (for me to wash on! Heh heh).” I thought.
She parked her car and Yessi, not only took her to Publix, but somehow confiscated her keys and gave ‘em to me. Brittany had no idea I was washing her car, so when she returned she was surprised to see her car and I covered in soap and water. Later they both came down, Yessi helped with the interior and Brittany expressed her gratitude. She said she felt loved and that’s when I knew it had been a good idea to do this. So now her car is clean and she’s happy. Wanna hear a bad joke? What does an unemployed Nicaraguan male do for his friend for her birthday? (sprays windshield) Washes her car (holds out hand), discount. Ha ha! I’m so funny it’s not good for me.
Speaking of unemployment, the closest thing I have to a job right now is playing music with TicoTico, a mariachi & fun music group. I’m playing bass for him. He’s in the process of getting strings for a guitarron and an accordion for Yessi. Hot! I made some money photographing them the other night. They paid me ‘cuz the pictures helped them get hired for a job.
Speaking of photography, did I mention I started photography in a tech school? I love it. It’s so cool and interesting. I’m around lots of creative people…well, creative girls. That school is living proof that there’s more women in higher education than men. In my class the only men are an old guy who’s taking it for fun, a high-school student, James, and I. Everyone else is a female human. The registration office is totally Sapphic, too. I’m always the only male there. Now I know what women really want: chocolate and higher education. Here are two I took:
Speekeen’ ovh hi-uhr edge-ewmicashun, Yessi and I are up to seven years. Last month was our anniversary. I sent her to a spa where she got the whole shebang (how do you spell that anyways?) while I cooked some Indian food for her. She came home and enjoyed her Spicy-Curry-Coconut-Chicken and naan. I love this girl. She got me two photography books, two video games, and my favorite body wash: Dolce & Gabbana’s light blue. It’s soooo good!
Speaking of good, gamelan started again. Some people are in it because they say they loved the choreography. Since I’ve been the choreographer, that means they must love me! (psycho talk) We’re going to play Sekar Kemuda, Asnawa’s awesome 7/8 masterpiece. Of course, I’m doing center stage. Kendangs (drums), to be exact, hopefully wadon (female). This time it won’t be the dumbed-downed version, it’ll have the gansas doing all the interlocking parts. So while I’m here playing Asnawa’s piece, Callie is with Asnawa playing rayong in his gamelan (holds up ‘W’s with both hands while making an ‘O’ with mouth).
A carwash-tattoo is when you cut yourself on a sharp edge of a car while washing it, but it doesn’t bleed because the soot immediately covers the cut, then the cut heals with the dark soot trapped under the skin. I have a crescent-shaped car-wash tattoo on my finger.
Yesterday I gave Brittany her birthday gift. Half-naked and wet, I washed her car. Not just soaked it in water and half-assed scrubbed it, I detailed it. Interior and all. Yessi helped me in multiple ways. She brought Brittany over to our place. I told her to park at the office because “they’re towing.”
“Really? Towing? Since when?”
“Since now. Park it next to the handicapped spot. That’s the best place (for me to wash on! Heh heh).” I thought.
She parked her car and Yessi, not only took her to Publix, but somehow confiscated her keys and gave ‘em to me. Brittany had no idea I was washing her car, so when she returned she was surprised to see her car and I covered in soap and water. Later they both came down, Yessi helped with the interior and Brittany expressed her gratitude. She said she felt loved and that’s when I knew it had been a good idea to do this. So now her car is clean and she’s happy. Wanna hear a bad joke? What does an unemployed Nicaraguan male do for his friend for her birthday? (sprays windshield) Washes her car (holds out hand), discount. Ha ha! I’m so funny it’s not good for me.
Speaking of unemployment, the closest thing I have to a job right now is playing music with TicoTico, a mariachi & fun music group. I’m playing bass for him. He’s in the process of getting strings for a guitarron and an accordion for Yessi. Hot! I made some money photographing them the other night. They paid me ‘cuz the pictures helped them get hired for a job.
Speaking of photography, did I mention I started photography in a tech school? I love it. It’s so cool and interesting. I’m around lots of creative people…well, creative girls. That school is living proof that there’s more women in higher education than men. In my class the only men are an old guy who’s taking it for fun, a high-school student, James, and I. Everyone else is a female human. The registration office is totally Sapphic, too. I’m always the only male there. Now I know what women really want: chocolate and higher education. Here are two I took:
Speekeen’ ovh hi-uhr edge-ewmicashun, Yessi and I are up to seven years. Last month was our anniversary. I sent her to a spa where she got the whole shebang (how do you spell that anyways?) while I cooked some Indian food for her. She came home and enjoyed her Spicy-Curry-Coconut-Chicken and naan. I love this girl. She got me two photography books, two video games, and my favorite body wash: Dolce & Gabbana’s light blue. It’s soooo good!
Speaking of good, gamelan started again. Some people are in it because they say they loved the choreography. Since I’ve been the choreographer, that means they must love me! (psycho talk) We’re going to play Sekar Kemuda, Asnawa’s awesome 7/8 masterpiece. Of course, I’m doing center stage. Kendangs (drums), to be exact, hopefully wadon (female). This time it won’t be the dumbed-downed version, it’ll have the gansas doing all the interlocking parts. So while I’m here playing Asnawa’s piece, Callie is with Asnawa playing rayong in his gamelan (holds up ‘W’s with both hands while making an ‘O’ with mouth).
A carwash-tattoo is when you cut yourself on a sharp edge of a car while washing it, but it doesn’t bleed because the soot immediately covers the cut, then the cut heals with the dark soot trapped under the skin. I have a crescent-shaped car-wash tattoo on my finger.