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Sundays In Hawai'i

I love people watching. Always have. Movies out here cost a small fortune, but observing humanity in all of its diversity, good and bad, intelligence and idiocy, destroys the appeal of any modern, mainstream CGI dump. The large majority of the time I enjoy this distraction from the boredom and tedium inherent to daily life, Im solemnly and quietly disappointed. Even in paradise, obesity and sloth run rampant and unrestrained. Men the size of NFL Linebackers lacking both the talent and athleticism lumber along gradually, with one thick arm, biceps undulating in the baking heat and triceps dripping like country gravy from a fresh biscuit, draped protectively over the mammoth masquerading as their woman. Understand Im not speaking derisively of local Hawaiians from a racial standpoint. This cornucopia of disgusting failure is blind to ethnicity, infecting people of all colors, tourists and locals included indiscriminately. They saunter around jauntily, their eyes fixed perpetually on "lost", necks, obscured by rolls of fat, craning painfully as they visually imbibe their daily dose of consumerism and materialism. Whether with friends or on my own, Ive caught them leering at us angrily, as if were traitors for daring to be something other than a human speed bump. Fuck them.

For all the refuse trudging about sluggishly on two elephantine legs, there are several diamonds in the rough. The women here run the gamut from unforgivably repugnant to impossibly beautiful. Were it not for the fanatical fitness regiments followed by my friends and I, we surely would have suffered whiplash many times over by now. Make no mistake, God has perfected the female form, and has chosen to parade his Earthly Angels in the Hawaiian Islands.

Local customs were unfamiliar at first, as are all alien gestures when one first encounters a foreign culture. Hearing speech peppered with Aloha, Mahalo, and the ever hilarious Puu Puu when prefacng what amounts to an appetizer, took some getting used to. Once my ears adapted however, I came to appreciate the compassion of those that favored the indigenous speech patterns. Gentility, whether Southern or Islander, is a welcome reprieve from the hostility and disrespect that seems to cling to our world like smog, permeating every interaction. The locals end nearly every sentence with a sharply puncuated "Ya". It has the amusing habit of making every statement sound inquisitive, even euphemistic. It's hilarious to see a recently arrived man or woman be taken aback by this simple regional flare, their reactions ranging from befuddled to annoyed, even indignified in some cases. As a whole, the locals are friendly, welcoming and offer warm reception, providing you are first and respond in turn. Seriously, some of these guys look like The fucking Rock, and when pressed for their take on diet and exercise, reference a fitness plan that includes casually throwing around 500 pounds on the bench every few months, interspersed with pushing a fully loaded car up a steep gradient for "cardio", all while fueling themselves with monstrous helpings of rice and Spam. Be cool, or be decapitated. Your choice.

When Im feeling lonely, Ill drive leisurely down island to Waikiki. Parking is generally scarce given the proliferation of vacationing families, but, as a gift from the aforementioned propensity the majority of the people here have for gluttony and physical degredation, your vehicle can be tucked away relatively quickly and safely if youre willing to walk about a mile or two into the city. The aura and surroundings are a unique mix of rustic and cosmopolitan, at least from my perspective. There are of course an obscene amount of picturesque beaches that look like they have been lifted from the canvas of a virtuosic painter by the Hand of God Himself to be deposited just so on the Earth for maximum aesthetic effect. The local cuisine is largely Asian inspired, considering the heritage of the Natives, with distinct American corporatism thrown in for effect. The malls are idyllic and Babylonian in scope, occupying great swathes of land, rising skyward like titans. Live music floats through pure tropical air, enticing shoppers and hungry denizens alike with seductive, exotic rhythms, harmonies and melodies. Voluminous amounts of books have fallen to my ravenous literary appetite on the shores of these beaches and the surrounding coffeeshops and teahouses. While I, admittedly, feel transplanted from the home I created for myself in San Diego, this will be a fine place to adopt for the next few years.

A relaxing wind embraces me as it kisses my face gingerly, with the practiced, enticing touch of a familiar lover. The salt air coalesces with the currents and gusts, reminding me of endless stretches of eternity at sea. I take a sip of tea and turn towards my pitcher, little beads of liquid glistening in the waning sunlight as they descend down its side. In the absence of the love I cherish my life has settled into a comfortable, linear path. I read, write, train and sleep. I live, the best way I can and the only way I know how. Summer beckons, and with it comes the promise of long, drunken nights lit by racuous bonfires sinking into hungover, painful mornings spent nursing the parting sting the sun maliciously leaves on unprepared, exposed skin. I may take up surfing, much to the distaste of my Mother. Ive bodysurfed a handful of times since Ive gotten here, and, though I flounder pathetically in the powerful waves, Im starting to develop an elementary feel for the art. Ive skateboarded my whole life and have discerned the rhythm of courting the incoming water, so Im praying I can make the leap to a board fairly intuitively. I stare in amazement at the locals that, brandishing a long, lean mahogany board, swim courageously out past the boundaries of rationality to meet these aquatic gargantuans head on. They disappear for a moment, then rise determinedly to the top, riding a bucking bronco in a different type of rodeo. They commandeer nature Herself, laughing in the face of danger and mortality while recoiling from mediocrity and safety with palpable disdain. Ill never be as good as these daredevils, but I can hope to attack life and change, in every form, with the same passionate fury. Poetry in motion, this life is.


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I cant sleep/
Because these damn bleat-/
Ing fat sheep/
Harass me/
With thoughts of home everlasting/
They ask me/
If I'm doubting/
Whether I'll be happi-/
Er back there or out be-/
Ing the bad dream/
I've been to half the peop-/
Le I've known, just last week/
I slapped, beat/
Down three/
Annoying ass teens/
For laughing/
As I watched a movie slammed, beat/
After a savage week/
At work, I found these/
Hands swing-/
Ing grabbing/
Necks to gash and ring/
While attacking/
Panicking/
I stand, shriek/
And pass weak/
Guards, they cant catch me/
Tragedy/
Befalls actually/
Facts and brief/
Glass meet-/
Ings with a pastor week-/
Ly leaves me/
Seeking/
A deity/
To help free me/
But they keep me/
In this cage weeping/
Scheming/
To beat these/
Screws/
Loose/
Unleashing/
Rage when they leash me/
Up like a dog, deep things/
Run through my head underneath these/
Veins running varicose/
My demons seem/
To always be very close/
Air and smoke/
Are an errant joke/
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