Monday, November 9, 2015

Estephanie!

Estephanie!
Estephanie!
Just saying your name takes my breath away. 

It's because your beauty is radiant, young, and alive, such a wonderful sight.
And your eyes, a subtly-engraved brown, yet hauntingly bright.

When you're not smiling, though, you're crying--being painstakingly fragile, wearing your heart on your sleeve.
Tomorrow's rainbows are magnificent, why so intimately obsess about the eve?

My entire world lights up every time you're nearby! 

Did you ever imagine yourself capable of making a grown man cry?

I want to care for you, share all precious moments with you, embrace you and never let go. I'd wager all for the chance to bring you happiness, lifting high your spirits whenever they become low.

You broke my heart though, long before we ever met. 

Like an angel, a grand painting, or a fading yet spectacular desert sunset. 


Thursday, August 27, 2015

To Isabela: These Are My Dreams

Isabela,


I've been regularly experiencing the following three dream themes for the past 20-30 years:

1.) I'm back in high school. These dreams typically feature my being "singled out" in some way--which is perplexing, because back then my goal was to remain largely anonymous. I'm also reluctant to label this subject matter as being either good or bad: the dreams simply leave me with an empty feeling. A strong feeling of longing.

2.) I'm living in poverty amongst many others, inside what appears to be a type of Halfway house. Although in real life I would HATE this type of living arrangement, I appear quite content to live "communally" in these dreams. Typically, I'm working with the other house members towards a shared goal, always as a group effort. 

Please note that at one time (during the 1990's) I did live with three others in an old San Jose house. That house was likely haunted, and perhaps a semblance of those "old ghosts" have stayed with me all these years. I encountered many strange, supernatural events while living there. The home still stands, located near St. James Park, on East St. James Street.

3.) TRAINS. Although I've only been on a handful of train rides, dreams with trains have provided the subject matter for hundreds, thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of my dreams. 

My maternal grandfather was a 50-year veteran of Arizona's Santa Fe Railroad, and, because of his coveted vocation--in which he took tremendous pride--I was OBSESSED with trains as a small child/toddler. In those days, I felt tremendous solace when listening to old vinyl recordings of trains and locomotives.

During these dreams though, I'm typically frustrated because I'm late for/have missed a train. Sometimes, I'm frantically running to try and catch a train--usually through rural, tree-lined environments. 


I feel guilty and disappointed in myself for not having arrived earlier, so as to not have missed the train in the first place. But when riding as a passenger, I feel tranquil and content. In all these types of dreams, I'm often cast in a leadership role.

From 2012 Dream Diary:

Preface: During this period (March through June), I was still living in Las Vegas, Nevada, was working as a manager for the telecommunications company T-Mobile, and was becoming increasingly ill. The "fun times" of Las Vegas living seemed to be winding down, and I was living a noticeably calmer lifestyle. 

Work was adequate, and money was abundant, but I much preferred being at home or out riding my bicycle. Looking back, I was becoming more isolated, spending less time with local friends--and much more time on the computer with California friends from years' past. 

March 9th: I'm traveling on a train through bright green mountainside, reminiscent of San Jose's Mount Hamilton mountain range. The train occasionally ventures underneath and even into the rolling hills. I develop agoraphobia. 

A possessed, evil-looking, and young Indian woman is riding near me in the same railroad car, but I'm skeptical of her actions. I strongly feel that she's a charlatan who is merely pretending to appear evil.

I'm watching a reality show at professional road cyclist Lance Armstrong's house.

I'm enjoying a hearty breakfast at Denny's restaurant. An older, distinguished-looking black man with a neatly-trimmed white beard is the waiter. 

March 13th: I'm amongst an adult marching band and sense that I'm there to write about the musical event--perhaps to review it? The band is small and the music being performed is of a rudimentary skill level--but they suddenly sound great, because the ensemble has instantly become huge, marching at least 1000 musicians on the field!

I then begin to march with them, but realize that, for some unknown reason, I shouldn't be there--so I step away. The entire performance turns out to just be a dress rehearsal.

March 14th: There's a big mess at my (both deceased) parent's house (on Dwight Ave, in Sunnyvale CA)--as if I was hosting a party amongst friends. My older brother is noticeably upset with my aberrant and disorderly conduct. 

Still at this house, small fires are starting, spontaneously. A gym bag appears out of the corner of my eye. I then start to clean up the mess, similar to the "day after" cleaning up that typically follows a house party.

March 17: I'm with my childhood friend Sean K. at the old CCG (California Canners And Growers, AKA "Schuckl's") cannery down the street from the old Dwight house. We're kids, about age 13. I confess to him that I suffer from agoraphobia. 

We then run frantically away from cannery workers, for fear of getting in trouble while on private property. The workers eventually catch us, but they're not mad; they actually give us cherries instead. 

March 20: I'm performing as a trumpeter with another high school marching band, and a video of this performance is playing in a constant loop in front of that same school. 

I'm riding on a public bus, and one of its stops is located directly in front of this school (where the video loop is playing). I exit the bus there several times, and notice the video is continuously playing each time I step off. A male high school student jokingly compliments my performance, to which I reply: "no way--I'm terrible. You guys are much better." 

An older, annoying, Middle Eastern customer (recognizable from from the T-Mobile store at which I work) summons the superhero Spider-Man by twirling an unknown electronic device against a wall. 

I want to ride a public bus with this T-Mobile customer to a shopping mall (located at the end of the bus route), but am informed that "the mall closes at 4pm," and it's already past 5pm. Accordingly, I decide to not take this bus ride.

March 30: I'm accompanying an unknown young niece (about age 16) to purchase her first vehicle at a car dealership. She's extremely excited. At first, I was seen working there as a car salesman and was "closing a sale" with another customer. A more experienced salesman helped me to complete the transaction. 

Getting back to this "niece": My dad is also with us at this dealership, and we are constantly chasing after her--due to her high level of hyperactivity and raw excitement. She initially states that she desires a (non-existent) Sierra vehicle, but instead chooses an (also non-existent) Inspire. Dad and I run up a long, uphill, indoor hall just to keep up with her.. 

Located there is a sophisticated, futuristic heart scan machine. I'm concerned about dad's health, but he appears to be fine. At the top of this climb, there's a chute--similar to an amusement park water ride--that we both slide down. I then damage this chute while attempting to break free from it, as I feel constrained sliding down on it. A worker there quickly replaces the broken chute part that was apparently missing. 


Immediately afterwards, my "niece" is chatting with another salesman about her decision to choose the Inspire vehicle.

Now, I'm alone with this niece at her mother's home, in the garage. As we talk, she turns to show me her new car--and at first I see an image of an old black Pinto. But when I look again, It's clear that there's no car there at all.

Next, we are casually lying outdoors on lounge chairs and she tells me she has a crush on the actor Zac Efron, so I ask her: "Isn't he gay?" She chuckles, and we have a lighthearted discussion regarding the actor's sexual orientation. I ask her, "who do you like?" And we talk some more. We clearly enjoy each other's company.

Just prior to having this conversation, we were watching a reunion TV show of a late 1990's "boy band" where each member sings, but only of average quality. Mediocre, I think, for their being professional entertainers.

March 31: My entire body feels paralyzed. Is this actually happening, or am I dreaming? I can't move and this all seems shockingly real, lucid.

I'm assisting a small business customer outside to her vehicle: she apparently just purchased two computer tablets. We discuss a current Verizon TV commercial.

I'm riding a bike through a park, with old friend Kevin and his dad. There's something strange about Kevin's hair, though: it's almost electric-looking. We then talk about how he hasn't lost much hair in the 10 years since I last saw him. He recommends a (non-existent) hair product called Blaze. He and his dad are in town to watch a Las Vegas sporting event.

A Three Stooges show/play: They are eating cheese "donuts" for the first time and have no idea what it is they're consuming.

The show then changes to a virtual pornographic movie featuring actor/comedian Rainn Wilson and my friend Jenny. I feel disgusted by this pairing. 

I'm at the Safeway corporate offices, job hunting. I'm fondly reminiscing about my years having worked for that corporation (during the early to mid 1990's).

April 1, 2012: My mother is sitting on a recliner, half asleep.

Superman costume, large outdoor event, my friend Joel. Costume is intended for me, but I refuse to wear it.

Walmart Neighborhood Market at closing time: I leave some books behind there, and it's clearly a hassle for the store employees to recover them; however, many other customers have left other personal items behind there as well. Robotic equipment and other machines are moving rapidly around the store's back warehouse. The store crew at first clearly dislikes me, but appear to soften up a bit by the time I leave. A young man who is re-stocking the pet department merchandise suggests that I apply there for a job.

I'm in the old trailer (where I spent much of my youth) on Dwight Ave. It changes color. My friend Jennifer's boyfriend ("Matt") is also there, as we peruse through a stack of old vinyl records. I miss my car. Mr. Broom (the neighbor from across the street) appears much older and heavier than how I remember him. My father is there too.

April 2: We're snowed in at the corner of Fair Oaks/Kifer, right down the street from my childhood home. I attempt to drive my car over that crossing's overpass, but am unable to because of the snow. It's so cold that my car then fails to even start. 

In real-life, the last time significant snow fell at this location was in 1976!

I'm amongst a beautiful outdoor Christmas "wonderland" display. These individual homes' "wonderlands" are being set up by myself and Jim, a friend from high school days. We discuss combining all the homes' "wonderlands" into one giant neighborhood display. We lightheartedly converse amongst a snowy environment.

I'm with Jane (another high school classmate) in a student dorm, just prior to high school graduation. Fellow student Carlo is also there. We're looking over a schedule of events for the last week of school. I intend to clean the dorm, but decide to instead hire a maid to do it. 

I hug Jane, but she's reluctant to show any affection in return. Nevertheless, I feel as if we're close friends. I'm aware that I have money and the other students do not.

April 3: I'm working at a small General Store (rural setting) with former co-worker David N., and one other employee: there are 3 cash registers. I am unaware of how to operate these registers, so I tell customers that "the computer is down." This group appears to be growing exponentially in numbers, and is becoming increasingly upset. 

Police confront me, but I'm unafraid--and, specifically, not worried about losing my job. David N. was about take a coffee break--but reluctantly agrees to postpone it--and instead helps me to ring up the customers. 

April 4: Dad falls down multiple times in a warehouse.

Mr. Broom (from across the street on Dwight Ave.) is looking old and chubby.

Betsy (My T-Mobile district manager) hugs me.

May 16: Flood, car, Santa Cruz. I don't panic.

May 17: Fremont High School bleachers, yearbook, kids with facial hair, and everyone has a girlfriend/boyfriend (but not me).

A missile strikes Los Altos in the middle of the night. A strange UFO--a lighted flying disc--appears. 

I have exceptional night vision.

It's graduation day at Fremont High School.

June 5: I'm in a small room with former best friend, John.

I've just rear-ended a police car, but the officer is compassionate and mild-mannered: He even "opens up" and reveals many of his personal problems.

I have a premonition about rear-ending another vehicle. When it occurs, I'm driving through downtown San Jose.

Back to the small room: I'm roommates with John (as I actually once was), and I feel compelled to purchase a vacuum cleaner. John then shows me a large amount of cash, which he earned from his job. 

He estimates that it may cost $20,000 to fix my car after a recent accident. I tell him that the car only cost $19,000--but I lied to others and "told them that I paid more." 

A thin, pale blonde woman with sad, baggy eyes--about 35 years old--appears as a ghost. John is unable to see her. She communicates with me telepathically: "My eyes are the window to my true self."

I'm at a store, shopping for a vacuum cleaner. 

Police airplanes are flying low, and are about to apprehend some men on the street. We avoid the planes and sneak into a recreation hall to drink beer.

David




Sunday, June 21, 2015

Dios y Satanás

Dios Santo, por favor, librar al mundo de todos los seres humanos. Porque todos ellos viven sus vidas en completa burla de su autoridad.

Incluso los muchos profetas que vinieron cerca de redimir su buen nombre en ultima instancia quedaron cortos debido a la gran y emergentes de energía, el orgullo, y la fuerza que acompaño a su amor por ti.

Lo que usted desea será pronto sucederá. Pero, ¿por qué lo pregunta este favor? Ciertamente, te das cuenta que sin los humanos en el mundo, su existencia tambien debe venires su fin. ¿Está usted preparado para el estado de no existencia que le espera?

Papá, la manera en que he elegido para vivir mi vida está mas allá deplorable, y merecen que sufrir el castigo más duro para mis innumerables malas acciones. Aun así, mi nivel de comprensiónes es microscopia en comparación con la suya. Usted es el único Maestro del Buen y del Mal.

En breve voy a enviar un virus al mundo que matar a todos los seres humanos dentro de lo cuarenta dias de su comienzo.

Monday, May 4, 2015

Prediction: Silicon Valley will return to farmland within 100 years.

Right now, in 2015, I know of no one else who is predicting what I'm about to predict: That within 100 years, the part of California currently referred to as Silicon Valley will return to a largely agricultural economy--as it was for a prior 100-year period, roughly between 1860-1960.

On a map, "Silicon Valley" more or less translates into being one and the same with Santa Clara County--an area that, essentially, includes all South (San Francisco) Bay Area cities from Palo Alto to the north, and down to Gilroy in the south. This area includes the large (about 1M population) city of San Jose.

Why will this change, a change that will see the world's most celebrated high-tech Mecca revert back to its agrarian roots, come to pass?

For a few reasons. Firstly, California is drying up. Not only are dozens of current "before and now" photos of the state's once full and flowing lakes, reservoirs, rivers, etc. providing concrete proof of this extreme environmental change: but I see it too from personal experience. The Silicon Valley I left in 2001 (for a 12-year stint in Las Vegas, Nevada) was an area that received plenty of rain, was seemingly blessed with year-round moderate temperatures, and was a place where lush lawns and landscapes were not only encouraged, but often insisted upon by snippety landowners, real estate managers, and Homeowner Associations.

But those days are long gone. Rain is scarce, and many of those same Associations are now encouraging (in fact, some are paying) homeowners to convert those once lush landscapes to...desert landscaping. California has always endured droughts, but nothing on record quite as severe as what's going on here now.

As bleak as this scenario may sound though, the stage is being set for absolutely ideal AG conditions--specifically, for large scale fruit tree production to again flourish in Santa Clara Valley, actually known in years past as "The Valley of Heart's Delight." Those once pesky floods (which sometimes ruined an entire year's crop) have been seemingly replaced by ever more abundant sunshine, critical for abundant plant growth.

Add to that ideal environment some of the planet's most fertile soil, and a burgeoning world population that is currently over 7 billion--and expected (according to one UN estimate) to possibly reach 16 billion by 2100--then it becomes clear that Earth's most fertile lands must be used for AG, in order to most efficiently feed our (mostly) yet-to-be-born 100-year descendants.

Those who are not locals may be skeptical as to just how fertile this land is: So I'll offer an example. Last year I bought a dwarf D'Anjou pear tree and planted it my backyard--as a sort of tribute to the vast pear orchard that, up until around the 1960's, once occupied the North San Jose land on which I live. Typically, pear trees require two specimens in order to thrive, to cross-pollinate; however, I only planted the one. I rarely water it. In fact, I may have watered it three, maybe four times during this entire last winter. Yet sure enough, it was loaded with blooms last month and has now sprouted dozens of tiny green pears. So many, that I am having a difficult time imagining how that modest tree of about 6 feet tall is going to endure the August/September weight of all that mature fruit.

The fact that California is slowly drying up further adds to my hypothesis. Decades ago, when the states's large scale AG production shifted from this valley to the state's Central Valley, irrigation was thought to be the cure-all to counter that area's known arid conditions. After all, rainfall to the north would always be plentiful, right? Sadly for us, wrong.

This prediction is not necessarily bad, nor good--but it will come to pass. Feeding the world's massive population in the year 2115 will require doing so in the most efficient ways possible. Dry conditions and average quality soil (such as those which exist in the Central Valley) simply won't suffice in the not-too-distant future. Drive out that way sometime this summer and you'll see billboards which flat-out declare the current state of their "Congress Created Dust Bowl." Or, just think of that tiny, solitary--neglected, even--pear tree that's currently thriving in my backyard.


Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Las Vegas, Nevada

When describing their hell-like summer temperatures, many local residents will tell you that "it's just a dry heat." But then again, so is that of an oven.

If windy, wizened, frigid winter weather too is not to your liking--then before you move here, you'd best toughen.

Those who are wise with their earnings will certainly proceed through life rather far. But if vices are your weakness, then you'd better stay much afar.

God-like thunder can rip the sound out of a summer's day, and it's accompanying apocalyptic lightning can coerce even the most stoic to take a knee and pray.

But for those who can endure, a majestic, heavenly sunset awaits you. Here in God's country, a desert oasis that you're certain to take to.

Thursday, February 19, 2015

The Morning Beach

The morning beach is surrounded by a natural beauty.
Yet a sudden burst of wind can transform this heavenly setting into one that's foreboding and gloomy.

Thieves, murderers, rapists, drug dealers, prostitutes and perverts patiently wait there for some prey.
The first strong rays of sunlight though typically put an abrupt end to their play.

Was that evil-looking and wild-eyed clown real, or make-believe?
Either way, wishing it away didn't cause it to leave.

It's during this time too that miracles sometimes occur.
Just make a wish as the ocean's thick fog causes your vision to blur.

Believe in the tranquil promise of this sand, sea, and air and yours will become either riches, power, talent, or your heart's finest affair. 

Thursday, January 29, 2015

An April/August Romance

You're younger.
I'm older.
And though it took considerable courage to at first approach you,
you're now the bolder.

I've shown you that there's more to a man than what you previously thought.
You've shown me that romance is alive, constantly evolving, and could never be bought.

My favorite thing is when you speak of your ambitions.
And then when your eyes light up, it's as if you can will them all to fruition.
But I wouldn't dare reveal my suspicions, for then skewered would be faith in your own intuition.

The biggest difference between you and the older version of you is that you're less cynical.
Perhaps that's why I favor a romance such as this, atypical.

Thursday, January 15, 2015

A Conversation With Chloe (The Neighborhood Cat)

You're innocent.
I'm evil.
Who does God favor, 
me or you?

When you're angry, 
you show it.
And everybody knows it.

I however must remain calm.
To the point even of impressing others with my aplomb.

Do you stare deeply into my eyes because you
Love me?
Hate me?
Are intrigued by me?
Want to eat me?

One moment you're like a cuddly little angel;
the next, like a crazy hissing devil.

I'd wager all nine of your lives,
to know which of our kind in the distant future most thrives.