Victoria No Secret

            I was waiting for an order of fish tacos. There were a few of us waiting. I saw a heavy set woman pick up her phone. She talked into it. I'm pretty sure she was talking to Siri. I heard her say, "Victoria's Secret," in a loud voice as people tend to do when they talk to their phones.
            My first thought was, eew. But then I changed my mind. Oh that's cool, she wants to look sexy. Nothing wrong with that. Her man was sitting across from her. He looked disinterested. I took another look at her and imagined her in panties. I was making it hard on myself.
            I picked up a bottle of salsa that was sitting on the table and read the ingredients. It was a simple recipe. I'm not sure they're going to have her size, it occurred to me. I thought about how big the panties would be. Think of something else Anthony. You're being mean and judgmental. I couldn't do it. I kept looking at the woman. She looked nice enough. Maybe a tinge depressed. She had droopy cheeks. She was getting old. Why? Why am I thinking about this? Why did she have to talk to her phone? Now her business is my business, and don't want her business to be my business. Go away lady, leave me alone! 

The Gift

            I saw a neighbor I've never seen before. He was a husky man in his forties, with long salt and pepper hair. Is that the wizard, I wondered? I wanted to walk up to him and ask, but I couldn't rightfully do that. "Are you the wizard?" Awkward silence.
            I'm convinced the wizard is a mature man on account of his repertoire. Although, the thought of the wizard being a young kid has crossed my mind. I'm looking for somebody slightly overweight, with chubby fingers. It's been my experience that those are the best guitar players in the world. They seldom become famous outside of their hometown. But it's usually the oddly shaped fellows that have the gift. They're the kids you ignored in school. The nondescript. The invisible. It's part of being a wizard I think. You can't be a wizard if people are hounding you. Wizards are sensitive and need a lot of space. This man fit the bill. He looked like a wizard, but for his worn t-shirt and oversized Bermuda shorts. 

A Good Year

            I didn't do much on New Year's Eve. I laid low. Thank god for my Mexican neighbors or it wouldn't have felt like New Years at all. They held it down with firecrackers and cheers. I even heard an old school toy horn blowing. That brought back memories. I'm happy to have lived another year. Frankly, I never got use to writing 2014. I seemed to mess up the four, or have to think about the year before I wrote it down. I think 2015 will be different.
            My New Years resolution is to stop saying the word stupid. That's going to be a tough one, considering we have whole industries dedicated to stupid. We have politicians that vote stupidly, we have sports commentators that say stupid things, we have day time TV that is stupid, we have school curriculums that encourage stupid. There are investors that invest in stupid. I am a product of stupid. The schools I went to taught stupid. The word is easy to use, and frankly, I've been blurting it out far too often. So good-bye old year and stupid, and hello new year and imbecilic. With time comes change. 

The Arroyo Seco

            I spent the day at the Arroyo Seco. Once I put the tragedy of the cement creek behind me, I was fairly happy. The cement creek was a constant reminder of man's insensitivity. I kind of got over it eventually, but mistakes of that magnitude are hard to ignore. I'd look at the blue sky and think, wow that's beautiful, and then I'd look at the cement creek, and say, what happened? It went on like that. I started throwing rocks into the cement creek eventually. It was my way of solving the problem of ugly. The rocks echoed as they hit the water, then bounced out and lay flat on the riverbed. They looked out of place as they lay there. It was ironic. I walked nearly five miles so there were things to enjoy. Plant life mostly- sage, oak trees, sycamore trees, and wooly blue curls. 

The Big Barber

            I got a haircut. At my barber shop there's a fat barber who I try to avoid and a skinnier barber who I try to get. I walked in yesterday and the fat barber was relaxing in his chair. The minute I opened the door he turned around and smiled.
            "Perfect timing," he said to me.
            He had me cornered, so I sat down and hoped for the best. There were a couple of other guys in the shop, but they weren't there for haircuts. They were there to socialize and crack jokes. Nothing was off limits to these guys, gay jokes, momma jokes, jokes about girlfriends, jokes about dogs that ran away. There were personal attacks on appearance. It was great. I couldn't stop laughing. I tried to keep my head still. The big guy has trouble as it is, and I didn't want any jump cuts. 
            As for the haircut, I look like Hitler youth. No matter how much water or hair product I use, there's a section of hair towards the back of my head that sticks straight up. It's agitated. The fat guy messed me up again. Merry Christmas big guy.

Hipsters

            The hipsters have discovered my fish taco joint. Ten years later. That's alright, I know of other places they don't know about. I was taken aback when I saw them. The neighborhood demographic has shifted. I've long awaited the shift, but I didn't think it would happen all at once. Now, I find myself waiting in line with hipsters and scrutinizing their apparel. There was a leprechaun, pirate theme going on. One guy was wearing odd-looking straight-legged pants that were tight fitting around his ankles. His boots were a maroon color, Dr. Martins I was guessing. All he needed to complete the ensemble was a scarf and a turtleneck. he had that kind of look going on.
           Was I that weird in my twenties? I guess I was. Thinking back on it I wore some funny looking pants in my day. But it was still amusing to me to think the guy thought he looked cool. 

Influenza

            Sorry folks, no blog this week. I came down with a bout of influenza. Chills, fever, soreness in the muscles. It hasn't been fun at all. I can't remember the last time I've been this sick. When I was feeling the most uncomfortable and feeling sorry for myself, I'd think of the men who were skinned alive in Mongolia during World War Two. That put my discomfort in prospective. Or, I thought of being trapped in a snow storm without shelter or proper clothing. I was in a warm bed with pills and orange juice. I had it easy. All I had to do was wait it out. Four days later I'm feeling much better. I'm glad for that. The little virus had me under its spell. The microscopic underworld took hold of me, but my body fought back and thank the stars for that.