tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48779519837032371922011-04-21T12:30:10.533-07:00working that atrophied lump since 1984.wilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038023260702307917noreply@blogger.comBlogger51100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4877951983703237192.post-36472655682793265212008-05-17T19:09:00.001-07:002008-05-17T19:11:06.445-07:00what is love?<br />baby, don't hurt me.<br />baby<br />don't hurt<br />me<br />no more.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4877951983703237192-3647265568279326521?l=fakeleftgoright.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>wilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038023260702307917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4877951983703237192.post-22713149089232836312007-12-14T02:14:00.000-08:002007-12-14T02:15:04.296-08:00<a href="http://www.justsayhi.com/bb/fight5" style="display: block; background: url(http://assets.justsayhi.com/badges/623/236/fight5.1extblvu2c.jpg) no-repeat; width: 296px; height: 84px; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 42px; color: #fff; text-decoration: none; text-align: center; padding-top: 145px;">32</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4877951983703237192-2271314908923283631?l=fakeleftgoright.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>wilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038023260702307917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4877951983703237192.post-77692787934107454732007-10-18T19:43:00.000-07:002007-10-19T13:14:33.107-07:00today, i am at a coffeeshop. beside me is a group of four asian-american seniors. they are the first of such groups that i've ever seen. i suppose asian americans have been in america long enough for this not to be an anomaly, but it obviously is to me. it's inspiring, in a way --- i find myself this close to writing a retrospective about the unrelenting pressures of time, and how the landmarks of friendship and love have been changed by that irresistible movement, or maybe about the cultural space that asians occupy in present day american culture.<div><div><br /></div><div>instead, i am going to talk about old people smells, because they are overpowering me right now and are tainting all of my happy nostalgic thoughts.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>smell 1. the 50s.</div><div><br /></div><div>i'm talking brut. and brill cream. and all sorts of other products proven to cause cancer and bleeding in rabbits.</div><div><br /></div><div>smell 2. medicine.</div><div><br /></div><div>i'm comfortable with the fact that old people are already past their usefulness and are waiting to die. why aren't they? stop trying to prolong the process. perhaps it's to cover up...</div><div><br /></div><div>smell 3. decay.</div><div><br /></div><div>"mom, you may not cook anymore but you might die and we need the recipes."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>-old woman quoting her daughter.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>this must the kind of conversation you make with your kids when you get old. i hope someone hits me in the face with a shovel when i turn 40.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>*   *   *</div><div><br /></div><div>the old occupy a strange place in american culture. in most cultures, age is experience, culture, nobility; in america, it is obsolescence. there are a lot of things that i enjoy about living here, but life in the fast lane is not really one of them. </div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4877951983703237192-7769278793410745473?l=fakeleftgoright.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>wilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038023260702307917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4877951983703237192.post-38734523202757479632007-10-17T14:40:00.000-07:002007-10-17T20:53:24.881-07:00<div>hands shaking,</div><div>arms rigid</div><div>i see a sea<br /><div><div><div><br /></div><div>of lines and pavement,</div><div>waves of signs .</div><div>car alignment</div><div>is eluding me.</div><div><br /></div><div>this is so much harder than getting up to 88.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2235/1605168404_a1c99b6442.jpg?v=0" alt="" width="500" height="375" onload="show_notes_initially();" class="reflect" /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4877951983703237192-3873452320275747963?l=fakeleftgoright.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>wilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038023260702307917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4877951983703237192.post-10866216837013765132007-10-16T11:01:00.000-07:002007-10-16T15:16:12.647-07:00<div>when speaking of a woman's physical features, if there's anything other than unabashed praise coming out of your mouth then it's usually wisest to shut the f--- up.<br /><br /><br /></div><div>"you know, ----, you have really broad shoulders."<br /><br />"i guess i do have a pretty strong frame..."<br /><br />"and i don't even mean broad for a girl. seriously, if you held up your arms, we could use you for field goal practice."<br /><br />"people do tell me i'm built like a white woman."<br /><br />"giants would woo you."<br /><br /><br />at this point, ----'s husband walks by.<br /><br /><br />"dude, it's not even the pregnancy. she was always like this. she's just got this really really beefy build."<br /><br />(that's right. she's with child.)<br /><br />"are you serious? because i thought it might have been the result of some radical physiological changes, but if you say so..."<br /><br />"yeah. the baby is going to have to climb her like everest in order to feed."</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4877951983703237192-1086621683701376513?l=fakeleftgoright.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>wilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09038023260702307917noreply@blogger.com1