Sitting outside in the sun at Perry’s Pizza, drinking beer with the guys in 1975, watching the bicycles go by.
By Steve Burgess
Passing by, they’re passing by.
There’s certain joy in observation,
But always comes the inclination
To call out, “Hi!”
To touch her thigh,
They’re passing by.
Yearning grows, it overflows,
It makes a man feel near psychotic
To get inside and get meiotic.
You feel a push,
To touch her tush,
They’re passing by.
Love comes and goes,
You never know
When you’ll find her in your mind
But all the time,
You feel the prime
Expediency’s
To slip, then see if she’ll stand by.
Lose your smile when she stays a while.
Usually turns out wrong in the end.
You never wanted to be her friend,
Just want to touch
What you want so much.
They’re passing by.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
What a Rush!
Surfer Derek
Surfer Derek lived in the park – that would be People’s Park / Perfect Park / Anisq ‘Oyo’ Park, depending on where you’re standing, in space and time. Derek would come into the New York Hero House late at night, and sweep out front or do some dishes in exchange for a meatball hero. Sometimes on a quiet night, he’d bring his own funny little cigarette, which we’d share in the back over companionable talk and the leftovers of my boss’s half-smoked Pall Malls. He had a deep voice, a friendly/gruff exterior, and a hearty guffaw – especially around pretentious people. His hair was like straw – blond, thick, and sticking out all over.
Derek was well educated, being a UCSB Poli Sci dropout who had time to read all of the papers every day - the periodical kind – not the rolling ones! And he had a lot of theories, most of them involving conspiracies, about who ran our world (and who’s to say he was wrong?). Derek espoused well-worn theories, and not a few of his own. These concepts were the reason he dropped out – of college and out of most of society. He figured he wasn’t going to help the Man control him by adhering to the Man’s rules. So he lived in the relatively benign environment of the Park, presumably through the generosity of college students’ handouts.
Not all of Derek’s education had gone to waste, of course. He was the first person to tell me that this new band, Van Halen, was great and would be going places.
He told me about walking along the beach when the 1978 Goleta earthquake hit. All over town, windows were breaking & things were falling off shelves. But Derek was walking along the beach, looking up at the cliffs, when they seemed to jump forward a few feet, then they moved back, suspending a one foot layer of topsoil in midair 60 feet up (at the top of the cliffs)! “No man, I swear I wasn’t stoned!” Then the cliff moved back and just a bit of soil and rock fell down the side. “What a trip, man!”
Smaller earthquakes were common that summer. One night, while Derek & I were sitting in the tiny back prep room at the Hero House, one rolling earthquake had a wavelength almost exactly the width of that little room. One end of the floor tilted up at the exact moment the other end tilted down. Then it went the other way, then back, then stopped. Nothing fell. It was really quiet. We both just looked at that cigarette, and simultaneously began laughing and slapping the table.
Sorority Rush Week was Derek’s favorite time of year. During Rush week every year, Derek would find a good-looking set of clothes in the free box. He’d shower and shave and even cut and brush his shaggy hair. Then he’d meet up with … well, I’ll tell it in his words.
“Yeah, I’d be looking good and respectable, man. Then I’d find a kegger with a bunch of tipsy freshman Rushees in the cute duds Mommy & Daddy bought them last week. They’re all looking to impress each other and one of ‘em goes off with the surfer dude – that’s me, man! They always want to go to my place, but you know, the beach is more romantic, right? So, we bring a blanket down to the beach, and have at it, man. Those girls are lookin’ for it, you know? So, off they go after a couple hours, happy and dreaming. So it’s always great, you know, a week or two later when they walk by me in the park and recognize me from that night I wasn’t, you know, hitting them up for a buck or nothing’. Man, you want to see a priceless look – it’s when they’re wondering if I’m gonna tell their greek girlfriends. It’s a two shot deal – I get the girl for a night, then I get a sorority sister who’s suddenly generous with the handout whenever she walks by. And they got Derek for a night. They can only dream about it after that. It’s a win-win, man! Except they gotta settle for those frat boys after me. That’s really too bad.”
Derek was great. A real piece of work. Always some new theory, always a bit too-well thought out. But the street got to him after too many years, even in friendly Isla Vista. After a few years, the street people get cranky and then they fade away. I don’t think it’s likely we’ll see him again, but if I do, I’m definitely gonna buy him a tall Coors and find out the latest take on the Man.
Surfer Derek lived in the park – that would be People’s Park / Perfect Park / Anisq ‘Oyo’ Park, depending on where you’re standing, in space and time. Derek would come into the New York Hero House late at night, and sweep out front or do some dishes in exchange for a meatball hero. Sometimes on a quiet night, he’d bring his own funny little cigarette, which we’d share in the back over companionable talk and the leftovers of my boss’s half-smoked Pall Malls. He had a deep voice, a friendly/gruff exterior, and a hearty guffaw – especially around pretentious people. His hair was like straw – blond, thick, and sticking out all over.
Derek was well educated, being a UCSB Poli Sci dropout who had time to read all of the papers every day - the periodical kind – not the rolling ones! And he had a lot of theories, most of them involving conspiracies, about who ran our world (and who’s to say he was wrong?). Derek espoused well-worn theories, and not a few of his own. These concepts were the reason he dropped out – of college and out of most of society. He figured he wasn’t going to help the Man control him by adhering to the Man’s rules. So he lived in the relatively benign environment of the Park, presumably through the generosity of college students’ handouts.
Not all of Derek’s education had gone to waste, of course. He was the first person to tell me that this new band, Van Halen, was great and would be going places.
He told me about walking along the beach when the 1978 Goleta earthquake hit. All over town, windows were breaking & things were falling off shelves. But Derek was walking along the beach, looking up at the cliffs, when they seemed to jump forward a few feet, then they moved back, suspending a one foot layer of topsoil in midair 60 feet up (at the top of the cliffs)! “No man, I swear I wasn’t stoned!” Then the cliff moved back and just a bit of soil and rock fell down the side. “What a trip, man!”
Smaller earthquakes were common that summer. One night, while Derek & I were sitting in the tiny back prep room at the Hero House, one rolling earthquake had a wavelength almost exactly the width of that little room. One end of the floor tilted up at the exact moment the other end tilted down. Then it went the other way, then back, then stopped. Nothing fell. It was really quiet. We both just looked at that cigarette, and simultaneously began laughing and slapping the table.
Sorority Rush Week was Derek’s favorite time of year. During Rush week every year, Derek would find a good-looking set of clothes in the free box. He’d shower and shave and even cut and brush his shaggy hair. Then he’d meet up with … well, I’ll tell it in his words.
“Yeah, I’d be looking good and respectable, man. Then I’d find a kegger with a bunch of tipsy freshman Rushees in the cute duds Mommy & Daddy bought them last week. They’re all looking to impress each other and one of ‘em goes off with the surfer dude – that’s me, man! They always want to go to my place, but you know, the beach is more romantic, right? So, we bring a blanket down to the beach, and have at it, man. Those girls are lookin’ for it, you know? So, off they go after a couple hours, happy and dreaming. So it’s always great, you know, a week or two later when they walk by me in the park and recognize me from that night I wasn’t, you know, hitting them up for a buck or nothing’. Man, you want to see a priceless look – it’s when they’re wondering if I’m gonna tell their greek girlfriends. It’s a two shot deal – I get the girl for a night, then I get a sorority sister who’s suddenly generous with the handout whenever she walks by. And they got Derek for a night. They can only dream about it after that. It’s a win-win, man! Except they gotta settle for those frat boys after me. That’s really too bad.”
Derek was great. A real piece of work. Always some new theory, always a bit too-well thought out. But the street got to him after too many years, even in friendly Isla Vista. After a few years, the street people get cranky and then they fade away. I don’t think it’s likely we’ll see him again, but if I do, I’m definitely gonna buy him a tall Coors and find out the latest take on the Man.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Youth and Ungoverned Hormones
Brad Rocko
Dateline Sacramento, 1971, Senator Hotel.
Youth in Government was a program designed to let teenage kids experience government firsthand. I got to experience something else firsthand, for the first time, and it was sweet and so was the girl who gave me that first experience. But this isn’t about Maia & me – it’s about my good buddy, Brad Rocko. Brad and I were rooming together for the few days of our Model Legislature. While Maia and I (unexpected but to my great delight) shared a bed, Brad had no place else to sleep but the bed on the other side of the same small room we had paid for with our registration to the event. So she and I were quiet as little mice. But Brad had powerful ears and imagination.
The next morning, we were all lying under covers, chatting about the previous day’s events, and today’s upcoming legislative sessions. Outside of the fact that Maia and I were doing an inordinate amount of giggling, I think that we weren’t giving anything away. Brad kept asking leading questions, trying to get us to reveal the previous evening’s activities, but we were giving no quarter.
Brad seemed to be getting more and more uncomfortable as we talked.
Finally I asked him if anything was wrong. “Um, I’ve got to use the John,” he said.
“Well, go ahead.”
“Um, but I’m naked.”
“It’s okay,” chirped in Maia, “so are we (giggle)!”
“Um, okay, I’m getting up.”
“Okay. Go ahead.”
“I’m gonna get up now.”
“Go ahead, Brad, we don’t mind.”
And so he got up. Well, he stood up. Then, like a pendulum beat, with each step, little Brad stood up to salute bit by bit.
“Okay,” flop, “I’m,” bounce, “going,” boing, “to,” snap, “leave” slap, “now.”
By the time he had crossed the room, imagination and 16 year old hormones let Brad, Jr get to the door a full step ahead of Brad.
Maia waited before the door was closed before collapsing into laughter.
------- Years later ------
Now, call me a terrible person, but for years after, whenever Brad wanted to tell a girlfriend of mine something about my past I would have found embarrassing, I threatened to tell that story. What I guess I never told him, was that pretty much every one of those gals had already heard & enjoyed that story!
Brad, if you’re reading now, I offer my ex post facto apology. Had the tables been turned, I'm sure little Steve would have betrayed my thoughts as well. And thanks especially for not telling those embarrassing tales!!
Dateline Sacramento, 1971, Senator Hotel.
Youth in Government was a program designed to let teenage kids experience government firsthand. I got to experience something else firsthand, for the first time, and it was sweet and so was the girl who gave me that first experience. But this isn’t about Maia & me – it’s about my good buddy, Brad Rocko. Brad and I were rooming together for the few days of our Model Legislature. While Maia and I (unexpected but to my great delight) shared a bed, Brad had no place else to sleep but the bed on the other side of the same small room we had paid for with our registration to the event. So she and I were quiet as little mice. But Brad had powerful ears and imagination.
The next morning, we were all lying under covers, chatting about the previous day’s events, and today’s upcoming legislative sessions. Outside of the fact that Maia and I were doing an inordinate amount of giggling, I think that we weren’t giving anything away. Brad kept asking leading questions, trying to get us to reveal the previous evening’s activities, but we were giving no quarter.
Brad seemed to be getting more and more uncomfortable as we talked.
Finally I asked him if anything was wrong. “Um, I’ve got to use the John,” he said.
“Well, go ahead.”
“Um, but I’m naked.”
“It’s okay,” chirped in Maia, “so are we (giggle)!”
“Um, okay, I’m getting up.”
“Okay. Go ahead.”
“I’m gonna get up now.”
“Go ahead, Brad, we don’t mind.”
And so he got up. Well, he stood up. Then, like a pendulum beat, with each step, little Brad stood up to salute bit by bit.
“Okay,” flop, “I’m,” bounce, “going,” boing, “to,” snap, “leave” slap, “now.”
By the time he had crossed the room, imagination and 16 year old hormones let Brad, Jr get to the door a full step ahead of Brad.
Maia waited before the door was closed before collapsing into laughter.
------- Years later ------
Now, call me a terrible person, but for years after, whenever Brad wanted to tell a girlfriend of mine something about my past I would have found embarrassing, I threatened to tell that story. What I guess I never told him, was that pretty much every one of those gals had already heard & enjoyed that story!
Brad, if you’re reading now, I offer my ex post facto apology. Had the tables been turned, I'm sure little Steve would have betrayed my thoughts as well. And thanks especially for not telling those embarrassing tales!!
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Too Much of a Good Thing
Dave Cristus
Dave was a high school friend, a year older than me. We participated in Model Legislatures in Sacramento together. When I was 16, ostensibly attending a Model Legislature, but actually being made a man for the first time, he was in the hotel room next door. Dave had a number of issues, but one in particular came to a head when we were in our twenties.
I was living in Isla Vista with my girlfriend and she was impatiently awaiting my coming to bed when there came a frantic banging on the door of our apartment. Startled, wondering what could be wrong and who this could be at 1 AM, I opened the door. My gainfully unemployed friend Dave fell into my arms, sobbing. “I can’t take it any more Steve, I just can’t take it any more!”
My God, what must have happened? I invited him the rest of the way in and had him sit on the couch, my arm around him.
“Dave, what’s wrong? What happened? Can I get you a cup of tea, a beer?””
“I can’t take it any more!” he said again, “I just can’t take it!”
“What, Dave? Can’t take what?”
“Steve, I try and I try, but nothing works. I’m 23 years old and I’m still a virgin! I can’t take it any more – tell me what to do!”
Okay, so at this point I’m proud to say that I didn’t chuckle, snicker or even crack a smile. He’s banging on my door at 1 AM because he can’t get laid?! The guy was beside himself.
“You want me to tell you what to do?”
“Yes. You always have a girlfriend. I remember 7 years ago you had a girlfriend. You must know what to do, what to say.”
“Oh come on Dave. You don’t actually want me to tell you what to say?”
“Yes, I do! And don’t tell me to just be myself! I don’t want to be myself any more! Tell me what to do!”
Aw, geez….
“Really?”
“Yes!”
Looking at the rags he was wearing, the rats in his hair, and detecting his unmistakable aroma, I decided to swallow my pride, try to ignore his, and give it my best.
“Weeeelll…first – take a shower. Maybe wear some deodorant. Wash those clothes, or better still, get a new set out of the free box – those are falling apart. Wash your hair & maybe cut it. Try a shave (he never could grow anything but these little wisps on his face). Brush your teeth – every day, so you’re ready for anything. ”
“I’ll do it. I’ll do it! Can I use your bathroom?”
“Um, I guess so.”
“Now tell me what to say, what to do.”
“Really?”
“Yes! Yes! Tell me!”
I’ve always hated lines. I’ve always thought that the only way to be is to be genuine to yourself. But the guy was desperate and he was my friend. So, I swallowed hard, and gave him lines, actions, scenarios that I had experienced unrehearsed.
----- a week later -----
I’m working at the sandwich shop in Isla Vista, the New York Hero House, there are a few customers in line, and in walks Dave, with the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen. His smile is wrapped all the way around his ears. He’d have to unhook his lips from behind there to eat, I think! After the customers in line are served, I give him a grin. “So, you got laid.”
“HOW DID YOU KNOW??!” This he could barely get out through that big smile.
“I just guessed Dave. So tell me about it.”
He did. He cleaned up (didn’t look bad, actually), and by gum, he said just what I told him to say and did just what I said to do as well. I didn’t know whether to laugh, be embarrassed, or what. I settled for being happy for my friend. He said he’d bring his new gal in soon to meet me.
And so he did. She wasn’t bad either. He popped for an Eggplant Parmigian hero to split with his lady love (I don’t think I’d ever seen him pay for anything in his life!) and they ate together – 6 days in a row.
On the seventh day, he must have rested, for I didn’t see him that day – or the next.
The day after, he walked in, looking a little glum.
“Dave,” I said, “where’s Kim?”
“Ah, we broke up.”
“Broke up? What happened?”
“Steve, she was just using me for sex.”
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dave was a high school friend, a year older than me. We participated in Model Legislatures in Sacramento together. When I was 16, ostensibly attending a Model Legislature, but actually being made a man for the first time, he was in the hotel room next door. Dave had a number of issues, but one in particular came to a head when we were in our twenties.
I was living in Isla Vista with my girlfriend and she was impatiently awaiting my coming to bed when there came a frantic banging on the door of our apartment. Startled, wondering what could be wrong and who this could be at 1 AM, I opened the door. My gainfully unemployed friend Dave fell into my arms, sobbing. “I can’t take it any more Steve, I just can’t take it any more!”
My God, what must have happened? I invited him the rest of the way in and had him sit on the couch, my arm around him.
“Dave, what’s wrong? What happened? Can I get you a cup of tea, a beer?””
“I can’t take it any more!” he said again, “I just can’t take it!”
“What, Dave? Can’t take what?”
“Steve, I try and I try, but nothing works. I’m 23 years old and I’m still a virgin! I can’t take it any more – tell me what to do!”
Okay, so at this point I’m proud to say that I didn’t chuckle, snicker or even crack a smile. He’s banging on my door at 1 AM because he can’t get laid?! The guy was beside himself.
“You want me to tell you what to do?”
“Yes. You always have a girlfriend. I remember 7 years ago you had a girlfriend. You must know what to do, what to say.”
“Oh come on Dave. You don’t actually want me to tell you what to say?”
“Yes, I do! And don’t tell me to just be myself! I don’t want to be myself any more! Tell me what to do!”
Aw, geez….
“Really?”
“Yes!”
Looking at the rags he was wearing, the rats in his hair, and detecting his unmistakable aroma, I decided to swallow my pride, try to ignore his, and give it my best.
“Weeeelll…first – take a shower. Maybe wear some deodorant. Wash those clothes, or better still, get a new set out of the free box – those are falling apart. Wash your hair & maybe cut it. Try a shave (he never could grow anything but these little wisps on his face). Brush your teeth – every day, so you’re ready for anything. ”
“I’ll do it. I’ll do it! Can I use your bathroom?”
“Um, I guess so.”
“Now tell me what to say, what to do.”
“Really?”
“Yes! Yes! Tell me!”
I’ve always hated lines. I’ve always thought that the only way to be is to be genuine to yourself. But the guy was desperate and he was my friend. So, I swallowed hard, and gave him lines, actions, scenarios that I had experienced unrehearsed.
----- a week later -----
I’m working at the sandwich shop in Isla Vista, the New York Hero House, there are a few customers in line, and in walks Dave, with the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen. His smile is wrapped all the way around his ears. He’d have to unhook his lips from behind there to eat, I think! After the customers in line are served, I give him a grin. “So, you got laid.”
“HOW DID YOU KNOW??!” This he could barely get out through that big smile.
“I just guessed Dave. So tell me about it.”
He did. He cleaned up (didn’t look bad, actually), and by gum, he said just what I told him to say and did just what I said to do as well. I didn’t know whether to laugh, be embarrassed, or what. I settled for being happy for my friend. He said he’d bring his new gal in soon to meet me.
And so he did. She wasn’t bad either. He popped for an Eggplant Parmigian hero to split with his lady love (I don’t think I’d ever seen him pay for anything in his life!) and they ate together – 6 days in a row.
On the seventh day, he must have rested, for I didn’t see him that day – or the next.
The day after, he walked in, looking a little glum.
“Dave,” I said, “where’s Kim?”
“Ah, we broke up.”
“Broke up? What happened?”
“Steve, she was just using me for sex.”
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Friday, January 20, 2006
A virgin page
Hello out there.
An empty page is full of promise. An empty page sees everything else as a pen. We start out with empty pages to our history - empty pages that reach out to be filled by life's quill.
The Seanachie in me wants to share pages full of the interesting characters that have blessed my life, and made living so much fun - customers, coworkers, roommates, pals, gal pals, homeless acquaintances, sober, drunk & drugged - the people who have penned a rich texture onto my personal pages in life.
I hope you enjoy hearing about these folks - they're odd and normal, outrageous, crazy, smart, and warm. Might even be a bit of poetry thrown in.
I promise to write a bit each day, and eventually even post it!
An empty page is full of promise. An empty page sees everything else as a pen. We start out with empty pages to our history - empty pages that reach out to be filled by life's quill.
The Seanachie in me wants to share pages full of the interesting characters that have blessed my life, and made living so much fun - customers, coworkers, roommates, pals, gal pals, homeless acquaintances, sober, drunk & drugged - the people who have penned a rich texture onto my personal pages in life.
I hope you enjoy hearing about these folks - they're odd and normal, outrageous, crazy, smart, and warm. Might even be a bit of poetry thrown in.
I promise to write a bit each day, and eventually even post it!
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