My Pilum is harder than Your Sternum

It's true. 

You may feel like you have the ultimate shield, covering your heart with bony armor; cold and encasing the sensitive organ from the frightening possibility. 

The possibility of exposure. 

Of warmth. 

Of pain. 

Pain which came before. Again and again with each man you cracked your ribs open to so he could gently kiss, he instead bit. Some with betrayal. Some with indifference. Some with lies. Every time with poison. 

So you carefully constructed your defenses; a ziggurat of bone and thorns. Impenetrable to everyone who tried to touch you again. 

But you haven't met me. 

I see the great treasure inside of the sealed walls and I know that I must convince you that I will not try to possess it or damage it, but to open it to my exposed self as well. To merge and create instead of pillaging and salting the earth of where it rests. 

So I take this javelin. Sharp in it's intent. Straight in it's determination. Balanced perfectly in it's truth. 

I stand tall

I draw my arm back

And I let my pilum fly

Shatter

Izakaiya

Beer

Savory meats on a stick

Couples chatting. Some of the men obviously trying to impress their dates. Some of the women not falling for their attempts at bullshit. Other couples enjoying the mood and the wrinkles in the corners of their love's eyes as they smile and laugh.






I notice an older man sitting by himself, enjoying his snack and observations of the younger people.


I notice that he sees the same thing I do when he spies me.

We both nod, take a sip of beer, and enjoy The Beatles as they play over the speakers.

A good night to smoothly let you know

"You are getting older"

Location:Geary Blvd,San Francisco,United States

Clean cut

Rick's is a barber shop on Geary that Juan Puente turned me on to. It's the kind of place that used to be ubiquitous, but is slowly disappearing: a place to get a good, basic men's haircut for a fair price.

Rick himself clips, cuts, edge shaves, and then shoulder massages you for $12. The place is incredibly minimalist; a fading hand-written sign stating the prices, 4 waiting chairs, 2 barber chairs, and an oldies station playing. There is always a few magazines and today's paper there, waiting to be lazily flipped through as you wait your turn.

There is an inherent, simple masculinity about Rick's. Occasional chatter in either English or Tagalog is heard, but it's very no-nonsense, and never loud.

I'm glad to have been shown a small oasis of an older time so close to where I live.

Location:Geary Blvd,San Francisco,United States

不思議

As you can see in this photo, the area I live near gets very foggy. It's part of the nature of San Francisco and one of the main pieces if nostalgia that I have in my memories that I can revisit not just by reminiscing, but by just taking a short drive (or a long walk) to the beach.

What I love about the fog is that it suddenly wraps everything in a veil of mystery, and forces you to heighten your senses. Suddenly things seem strangely brighter because every small piece of light reflects off of the fog, but it's more difficult to see things. Sounds seem to amplify. The cold and wet exaggerate the scent of the world.

The Japanese word for mysterious is "fushigi", and it's one that somehow pleases me in a way that makes no real sense, but I like it nonetheless.

This is my Fushigi City.

And I love it.

Location:Point Lobos Ave,San Francisco,United States

An exciting evening

Small defeat

I woke up at 5am again. Cats trilling, foghorns mooing in the distance.
After a bit I got excited for the possibility of getting a small breakfast and then getting a haircut at Ricks.

Then I realized.

"Fuck. It's Sunday"