Lefty Limbo

25 years ago, I was able to buy 3 candy bars for a dollar at the local Lucky’s supermarket. I typically chose a Nestle Crunch bar, an Annabelle’s Rocky Road, and a peanut M&Ms. That particular combination really hit the spot. This was before King Size bars, and before king size prices.

Right around the same time, the local Alpha Beta supermarket sold day-old dozen donuts for $1.99. During summer vacations, my cousins and I would ride our bikes there and pick up a box in the evening, to eat while watching rented movies or between making home videos of our own.

Those days were so fun.

Sent through my iPhone direct from Madagascar:

I’ve been feeding lemurs for the past month or so and haven’t had access to the internet. I was finally able to grab a plane to Kenya and purchase an iPhone from a newly opened Apple store in downtown Nairobi (Waaqni sii haa kennu Oromo!). It’s pretty cool. Anyways, I’m doing fine and will update you ASAP. Chow for now!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJQcJBjObEc]

I’m totally not a YouTube freak, but I do have my own little collection of favorites from the times I’ve visited. The above vid is one of a series of G.I. Joe PSA spoofs, where they take the original animation from the ’80s G.I. Joe series (which I nearly religiously watched back then) and add their own wickedly random and crazy dialogue/audio. This one’s definitely my favorite of them all. I was totally dying the first time I saw it, and even now I can’t get enough of it. Deliciously, deliciously random. Enjoy.

In other news, I found even more pictures from my 10th birthday party (scroll down), which I’ll post soon to update my treasure trove of O.p.-shorted, Vans slip-onned memories.

I’m at a stoplight, just seconds from my work.

Traffic whizzes around me, steel sardine cans with desperate, recession-tinged fish at the helms. In the distance, an ambulance siren wails. My heart races, wondering from which direction it hails.

I don’t need this much commotion at 8:30 in the morning.

My windows are open, both driver and passenger side. I roll them up with the push of a lever and listen carefully as the traffic, ambulance, and ugly ambient noise of the morning are slowly drowned out by the invisible shields.

For some moments, there is a muffled din of the world around me. I should feel better with the decrease in decibels. The cars still speed down the boulevard, and the people around me still idle in wait for the green. But everyone, and everything, is hushed to nothing more than an urban mutter. Do I feel more relaxed?

No.

Life in this city is too hectic at any volume.

Hot like soup

of fire and coal bits

burning embers

I’ll ask for seconds

Head into hell

unwashed, unfazed

Freon gone

overcome

Loosen the grip

hands-free

valley sun

burning me

clocking out

I’ve noticed an unusual amount of dead honeybees lately. This is both at my home (in my driveway, especially) and at my work (I just found 7 of them this morning, all within a 10 ft. radius). At home, too, I’ve seen many bees on the ground, weak and dying, as if they’d been poisoned.

I can only assume that this is a result of Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD), which has been mysteriously wiping out bee colonies worldwide. This article sums it up pretty well.

Now, knowing that we’re screwed has hardly surprised me lately. At least 5 years ago I noticed a remarkable change in the weather patterns and felt an ever-increasing “disappearance of seasons.” Sure, this is L.A., but when I was a kid I remember a real rainy season, complete with soaked Vans slip-ons, rained-out recess periods (checkers!) and puddle powerslides on my Mongoose BMX. These days it seems like rain comes once a year, and when it does arrive, it’s a trickle, quickly vaporized by the impending sun.

Now I don’t know if the global warming trend is partly to blame for the honeybees’ demise. But seeing these dead bees gives me the feeling that the shit may hit the fan much, much sooner than we think. I saw a program on PBS not long ago that discussed how much we and the world relied on the lives of honeybees. I discovered that our lives literally depend on them. Put it this way—if they go, we go soon afterwards.

The program Silence of the Bees illustrates this bleak reality even further.

Yet another pleasant thought to whisk me through the day. Skippity-skip.

So I’ve decided to participate in a “Biggest Loser” style contest, where whoever loses the largest amount of body fat percentage in three months takes home a big pot of money. I figure it’s a good motivation to get in shape, and who knows, I just might win.

The body fat percentage is measured by this modern scale that sends an electric current through your bare feet (which you place on the scale), measuring the amount of fat in your body and calculating according to total weight, I suppose. I found it interesting to see my percentage when I stood on the scale, and imagined an electric current zig-zagging through all the bright yellow, globulous fat deposits throughout my body. I guess like Fantastic Voyage. That would be cool if I could strap a cam onto that electric current as it traveled.

Let the games begin.

So we found this kid wandering around on our front yard. He didn’t have any tags or anything, so we took him in. He’s been living with us since. He’s fun to have around, and also alerts us to any intruders on our property.

On arrival to the valley floor, I peer out the window to see a small, semi-flattened furry hump on the asphalt…a sure sign of a steel-belted demise. Getting closer I see it’s a squirrel. I mutter my condolences, and give it one last glance before passing it by.

The squirrel appears to smile at me in return.

I viewed the coffee display from top to bottom, wondering which coffee bag to buy. Should I get a light roast? Dark roast? A blend, perhaps? Whole beans or grounds? After some moments of indecision, I settled upon the Papua New Guinea Sigri Estate bag, which claims to be “rich & smooth.” The “roast meter” at the bottom of the colorful front sticker showed a little leaning to the light roast side. No problem. I just needed something to keep me up while working.

I handed the bag to the cashier, deciding not to have the bag ground for me. I usually do have it done, but I figured I might as well put some use to the premium grinding machine I had at home (muchas grácias a Yeni). Besides, they say the best cups of coffee are the ones made immediately after grinding. So after handing my credit card to the cashier, he remarked, “You get a free cup of coffee with your order. Would you like one?”

I perked immediately, and I felt my face flush with the thought of a fresh cup of java. Wow! The veins in my arms pulsed in anticipation of a good caffeine fix. “Yeah! Thanks!” I nodded with a smile. It sounded so good, and it was free. How exciting.

Maybe I need to get out more.