Proprietor #10

            I saw the proprietor yesterday. I walked out of his restaurant shaking my head. I had no idea what we talked about. It started out as a conversation about Barbara Eden, and the Munster beauties, and segued to the Lakers and the rebuilding process, but after that I got lost. The last thing I heard the proprietor say was "and then we'll shoot the missiles into the air," he gave a whistle that sounded like an incoming bomb and lifted his index finger in the air and twirled it downwards. 
            Things are getting strange between us I have to admit. When he takes my order and asks me what I'd like to drink. I'll tell him water. And when he brings the water, I'll ask if he warmed up the ice for me? When I order a burrito, I'll order it with spagitti sauce on top. It's really ranchera sauce, but that's how things are going between us. 
            When he brings me the water, he'll tell me that it's rainwater from the rusty pipes on the roof. I'll take a swig and say, ummm, tastes like Himalayan rainwater to me. 
             

Time The Meaning of Life

         

            I worry about people who are constantly searching for the meaning of life. I get it, it's a mystery. And knowing the answer to such an important question would solve a lot of problems. But the cruel reality of it is, nobody knows the meaning of life until they're dead. You won't know until you die is the answer.
            I'll say this, it's easy to become confused in a culture that idolizes the material. If it's not the material they're selling, it's magic. If you believe in their magic you will be given great rewards. 

            If I had to venture a guess as to what the meaning of life is, I'd have to say time is the meaning of life and how you use it. There's nothing more precious than time. People confuse money with meaning, but money without time is useless.

            How you spend your time is what it's about. Are you learning? Are you growing? Are you using your time wisely, or are you wasting it. 
            When you go to prison you're punished with time. When you die, they'll write on your tombstone the time you lived on earth. Life without time is certain death. I waste time, but I try not to. I've done more than my fair share. 

            

The Bud

         
            My singer friend was taking a break and as he walked by me to go outside, he stuck a bud in my face. I didn't know what he was doing at first, so I pulled my head away, and as I did that, he dropped the bud to the ground.
            Hey, I dropped the bud, he called out.
            A group of us started to look for it on the floor, but the room was dark and we couldn't find it.  
            The singer's sister who was visiting from New York, a lady in her seventies, said, does anybody have a cell phone? I thought about it. I was going to reach for my flip phone that was in my pocket, but I stopped short. I just couldn't do it. I was too embarrassed. 
            Nobody has a phone? The sister said incredulously. 
            She turned to me, you don't have a cell phone? 
            I shrugged my shoulders and raised my arms and said, no sorry.  

Keep Your Head Low

         
            I've noticed when I'm in public, say at a restaurant, and someone I know walks in, I'll pretend not to see them. I'll put my head down and read the menu, or look away so not to be seen. I've also noticed that people do the same thing to me.
            I'm not sure why I do it. I'll be the first to admit it's strange. Maybe it comes from having awkward conversations in the past. Or maybe its as simple as not wanting to be bothered, or not liking the person in real life.
            Whatever it is, it's weird. It takes a lot of energy to look invisible. It'd be easier just to wave and give the forced smile and then have the uncomfortable conversation at the restaurant table, where inevitably, somebody is standing and somebody is sitting, someone is looking up, and someone is looking down. 
            It's hard to say what's better. All I really want, is to eat in peace. 
             

The Beans Are Loaded With Gun Powder

         
             My neighborhood is changing, and so is the clientele at my favorite Mexican restaurant. I stopped in yesterday for lunch and there were gringos everywhere.
             There were four dude-bros talking loudly at a table. I could hear them twenty feet away. Something about that struck me as odd. Use the volume control, dude-bros you're three feet away from each other. 
             When the waitress came to take their order only one of the men was nice. He tried to order in Spanish and was polite. The other three guys were buffoons. One of them tried to special order a tostada. He wanted chicken on a tortilla or something like that. The waitress was trying to follow along, but I could see she was confused. He had no idea what he wanted. When a you try to special order a tostada in a Mexican restuarant, it just looks bad. He looked bad. Don't do it, man.
             My advice, if you need to special order a tostada, just order the soup. Soup is generally harmless. And you don't have to worry about the beans giving you fartilitos because they're loaded with gunpowder.  
              

The Quest For Black Huaraches

           

             I was standing on the corner waiting for the light to change. I was on my continuing quest for black huaraches. 

            There was a man standing next to me. I glanced over at him. As I looked, he looked at the same time. The man shot backwards and recoiled in attempt to move away from me as though he'd seen a demon. The first thing I thought of was, whoa, I have bad energy. I took it personally, because that's the kind of man I am.
            The light changed. I let the man walk ahead of me. He was carrying two plastic bags and he kept looking over his shoulder as he walked. We crossed the street and he was still looking over his shoulder. Oh okay, he's a paranoid schizophrenic. A sense of relief overcame me. I don't have demon energy after all. It's him not me. Phew.

Hotdogs In My Pockets

            I was out the other night and there was a lull in the conversation, so I turned to my friend and said, I like to stuff my pockets with hot dogs and walk around my neighborhood at night to attract coyotes. 
             He thought I was serious. Really? He asked.
             I get a rush out it. I told him. 
             He believed me until I fessed up and told him I was messing with him. 
             I'm not sure why the image of a pocket full of hot dogs is funny to me. A pocket full of hot dogs at a dog park is even funnier. What if I stuffed my pockets with hot dogs and went to a dog park? The dogs would be all over me. I'd be the Pied Piper of dogs. They'd follow me wherever I'd go. And their owners would think I had the magic with dogs. They just love that man. I'd have five or six dogs following me at all times. Look, I'd hear somebody say, that man's some kind of dog genius.