Sexy Strawberries

Strawberries are a sexual sort of fruit. Look at Pretty Woman.

He ate her cherry. She didn't touch the banana. It had something dripping from it.

When I see a pineapple, I get so turned on.

Wilde Stalks in Paris

Maybe Oscar Wilde is right when he states in The Picture of Dorian Gray that loves that are great are destroyed by their own plentitude. And, that only shallow loves live on. But isn't that the point? To love so tremendously? I'd rather not love at all if my love were to be shallow.

Maria

Regina's Icarus

Hi,

I'm Icarus. I'm falling
d
o
w
w
w
w
w
n.

Man for Judgment must Prepare me
Spare, oh God, and Mercy
Spare

Lacrimosa is part of the Requiem mass.

Accelerating into Walls

We were driving along 280 when my dad decided to part his wisdom on me.

I'm sure he had been meaning to talk to me all day; he was the first to see me - he stood in the garage as I pressed the door opener and edged my car in. He held me tight and scolded me for not picking up his calls. In truth, he might have been wanting to tell me how he felt for a very long time. His story had resonants of advice that he has been dropping me for the past few years.

We were driving along 280 when my dad pointed at the looming black whirl of clouds and thought that they were the sign of death.

What he told me afterwards was in a mix of Vietnamese and broken English with a Chicano accent. I decided to translate that into a more becoming and understanding basic English. This is what he said:

How old am I this year? Forty-four. How can I already be 44? Of course, you're 21 this year. You and I have gotten old together, eh? Eh eh? You're at the age when you are gaining wisdom, but you haven't fully changed. You have so much more to learn. Life is so precious. I remember myself at your age. I was in love with your mother. I had just arrived in Santa Ana. With the remnants of a letter, I took off in search for her. With no job, no money, no car, I arrived at her house on my bicycle, having taken half a day riding many miles. By the time I arrived, my bike had received a flat tire and one of my sandals had fallen apart. I was tired, sweating, and a mess. As I pedaled up the driveway to your godmother's house, your mother was getting ready to climb into a car. I pulled alongside the car, breathless and calling her name. She gave me this look of spite and resentment. And I knew. She is a beautiful woman. At that age, she had many men at her beck and call. They were wealthy, educated, and handsome. I knew. I took my broken bicycle and went home.

That summer, I left with my brother to New Mexico. I worked 10-hour days to make ends meet. In the mornings, I sat for two hours in an ESL class. That's when I met Esperanza. I was standing outside of the classroom one day and she smiled at me. And I thought, "oh God, oh God." She smiled at me. Her mother was in the class with me, taking ESL. She said, "hi." I had so little English. I asked her where she was from. She said, "here." I was surprised, "Where were you born?" "Here." I learned so much English from her. Possibly most of my English. I didn't know why she was with me. I had no money, no license, an underpaying job. And no English. I always rode a bike to her house.

One day, I borrowed a car from a friend. Without a driver's license, insurance, or even a social security number, I drove it. As I was rounding around the corner, the handle of the door unlatched and the car door flung open. Scared and panicking, I misjudged and slammed my foot on the gas pedal instead of the brakes. When I woke up, I was staring at a crumbled wall fallen over my car. The owner of the store ran out - "how the hell did you do that?!" I eventually worked for that man. He owned a plumbing store, and over many weeks was I able to pay that debt off.

Esperanza loved me. I didn't understand why. We dated for over six months. And I didn't even know her name. I just called her "Baby" or "Honey." In bed, six months, and still I didn't know her name. One day she said, "Thanh, what's my name?" I paused. "Well, Baby...?" And she yelled at me. She really loved me.

At the end of the year, I left with some friends. I didn't tell her why. All I knew was that I didn't want to settle down. I was 21, I didn't want to get married.

A few years later, I came back. I went to the bar that we all used to hang out at. Her brother was there. He asked, "why did you leave her? She loved you." He told me that she was now married with a kid. All I told him was that I didn't want to get married.

I traveled a lot and moved to many states. I was in the Virgin Islands for a while. I had a lot of girlfriends, though they were short relationships. They lasted six months, one year. I had Mexican girlfriends, Indian girlfriends. I once had a white girlfriend. She was huge. Over two hundred pounds. But she had a pretty face. I didn't care much for them. I didn't want to settle. I wanted to keep moving. Eventually I got tired. I was hanging with a group of friends who weren't very good people. I didn't like who I was with. After getting out of prison in South Carolina, I ran away. I ran away back to California.

I loved your mother. When you were three, I visited her. She begged me to take her and you with me. At that time, I didn't have a job. If I couldn't take care of myself, how could I take care of you and your mom? I just patted her on the back and told her to be a good wife, and maybe your father would change, maybe he would be better. How could I have known that he was going to beat her and nearly kill her? I didn't have the means to support her. Not then.

I don't want to speak out against your father, Cindy. But I know from your mother that he didn't treat her right. He was a selfish man. He lived the way men do in Vietnam: he made your mother stay home to cook and clean and take care of the children, to have no say, he didn't allow her to work, and she wasn't allowed any sort of independence. He had all control over his money, that whatever she wanted or needed was scrutinized, and he was stringent on his money and never gave her any allowance. His rationale for his own actions and personal dealings was that it was his money and therefore he was allowed to do anything he wanted. That is the man you want to watch out for, Cindy. You don't want a man who scrutinizes and controls all the finances. To place that much importance in money will make your life full of greed, selfishness, and materialism. Finances are to be shared by both man and wife. It is a problem with many couples.

If I took Mom and you that day, Tom and Anthony would never had been born. And you were such a mean child! When I hugged and kissed Mom, you glared at me. As I tried to pick you up, you pushed me away aggressively and started crying loudly. You pointed at me and asked, "who is this man?" And I can tell in your eyes, you said, "what the hell is he doing here?" I love Mom. Whenever I saw her, whenever I called her, I get this fluttering in my chest. I know that she's the only woman I could ever love.

I'm glad I didn't take Mom that day. We were both young as you are now. When you are young, you have this fire inside you that makes you angry with your lover. You always want to flee, to explore, to have your own space. I'm glad that Mom and I didn't come together until we were older. We wouldn't still be together if we got together back then. Now, the fires have cooled, and it's easier for us to let things go.

I worry about you. You make attachments to your lovers. You diminish space and you live with them. I know that you want to flee sometimes, that you want to be with others. It's okay at your age to have many lovers, to explore, to understand and want more. It's more common for men, but it's just common for your age. It's just harder for women because it's easier for them to get hurt, emotionally and physically. You might accidentally become pregnant. And I'm telling you! Do anything, but don't be with child! Your fire is still high. You and your lover will fight a lot, because you will have your temper before your genial experience. If he insults you, the only thing you know is that you're being mistreated and you just want to leave. That's why at your age, you just want to break up all the time. I want to tell you that at your age, you shouldn't grow attached. You need to follow what you want to do, have fun, gain experience. Because if you weigh yourself down, you might just be living under obligation, convenience, but there might not be love. Not love like Mom and Daddy. Don't look for love now, Honey. You need to understand yourself first. Control the fire. Eh eh?

I love my daddy. I was surprised about his story. I knew that my mom tried to leave my father so many times, but I never knew that she tried to leave with my dad. I often feel really sorry for my parents, whenever they tell me their stories of confusion and struggle in America. But I know now that their story certainly has a happy ending. With me.

I'm trying.
Artistic and Lazy.
Come back with my Communist Kitsch.

Sleepless

I have loved the longest. I'm losing so much of myself through grief. "Welcome to Human."

Maria's Voice

Maria just wrote this, and it's so much more empowering than the self-help book she recommended.

I think the real question is: What do you want? This is the question we left each other at. What does it matter what I want if you want nothing at all? After our last big fight, I can no longer reassure you that I want to be with you. Had you said this just hours earlier I would've replied differently. But, you're right, like you said, this fighting is excruciating. Frankly, I am so tired. I am so drained and I don't see an existing resolution if the efforts are one-sided. By that, I also mean that I am aware that I have been taking the blame for the most part. But relationship problems are a result of two ignorant and neglecting parties. I don't feel that I necessarily need to redeem myself because I know that when I had the knowledge, I did everything I could or gave you your space. I have been supportive, caring, and considerate to the best of my ability. If you are serious about getting back together, we have to work together in order to work independently from each other. This requires communication and compromise from both ends. You have to open up to me. I want you to be upfront and honest because if you're going to play these childish, selfish games with me... if you are merely with me because you are lonely or scared you can't do better... if this is going to be short-lived then I don't want it. Because I have simply run out of steam. I have got nothing to run on. My own determination so apparently, increasingly futile in every attempt exists in wind-swept ashes. If you're looking for any form of re-kindling, I urge you to look to yourself first. When you can humble yourself enough to love another and provide the basic, most essential level of respect (which is just barely enough, but a start) then that's when you know you are ready. In the meantime, I've already begun my path to a healthier lifestyle, regardless of your reply. I know what I want now: someone that is geniuine, respectful, caring, willing to face the world and his problems unabashedly, and enduring. I want someone that will be there for me and love me despite my flaws, which, if anything, is so characterstic of being human. I want someone that will love me even at my worst. Fundamentally, I want reciprocity. I want someone that wants to do all the things I want to do for him because we are so equally wild about each other. If this isn't you, so be it. I am not scared of fate or what is to come. I know that if I holdfast to what I want I will eventually find the person that is right for me: my best friend, my soulmate, and, definitely, my lover. I am so completely honest with you in hopes that you will reciprocate my actions. To my knowlege, problems stem from a lack of communication and honesty. I figure it is only just that I tell you what it is I see, and the way things have been going, I see nothing. I cannot apologize for the both of us, take all the blame for the both of us; it is back-breaking and over-bearing. As much as I want to say that it'll work, upon reflection of our relationship, it had become almost purely physical. Me -- your whore. You -- relentless, oftentimes than most, when you had no reason to be insecure, but I can see why you're bored and wanted more. I am sad to admit that at that point I was that person -- self-depreciating, morose, relatively dependant. Maybe I'm the one that's not ready to be in any relationship at all. The lines between school and life tend to blur. And taking 5 classes, working 2 jobs, trying to be a good friend and relieve my own stress to retain my sanity is straining enough. When I was with you, I didn't want to think, I just wanted to be. I'll admit that it's much different than summer, I can't be all fun and games because it is not within me. When I was being inconsiderate, I didn't want to hear your problems either. But I would much rather know what's going on rather than spending at least two-hundred times the energy and time worrying and fighting. It's like fighting in the dark, blind and deaf. As for my friends, that is not within your right. I may have let you think that when I chose you over Steven, but that is not the case. That is way, over-the-top controlling. You can voice your concern, and frequently if you feel the need if it will avoid unnecessary fighting. While I recognize these faults, I currently have no particular stance. I miss you, but I would miss you either way. If I am lost this time, it is forever. This is not a threat, it is a fact.

Deciphering Lust

In time, she realizes that the conflict of morals, feelings, and misplaced desire had filled her life. In her dreams and her days sighting, she forgets, rummaging through moments of tantalizing satisfaction - the notion of the initial feeling when falling in love. Could it be love, or has it always been the complete guise of love? Masked and terrible, only reeling when "falling" into love has been stripped away. She allows him to hold her, and at the same time juggles with her overpowering lust and her biting disgust of him, herself. Imagining constantly of chances, possibilities, she finds herself tucked in his arms in her mind's eye. They dance with their lips, and too soon after, their bodies ripple against points of great explosion, exhilarating movements and gusto. She feels herself wanting to moan, wanting to scream, wanting to thrash and want and feel and flood and cry and laugh. She wants him doing the same, grabbing her, wanting her, calling her in languages known to lovers - infusing skin, rubbing heat. Her eyes roll back, and the mind turns to dun. Has it been lust that had controlled her regards to previous partners? The City Dreamer walks on, pounding the sidewalks with her stilettos, clicking with the beat of the thousands of citizens and visitors, all with points of Destiny.