Month: December 2015

We are robots (just text me)

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Is anyone alive anymore? Why text when we can just call? How many people have perished behind a “lol”? How many relationships have been severed by the Facebook samurai sword? What happened to the phone booth romance that I used to cherish? Is it possible that this post or “blog” has been penned by a robot that has taken over my precious website?

How would you know sweet readers of words?

Some of you who still rely on the cognitive parts of your brains (oh shit here he goes again) can recognize my writing voice and the hellfire candor that lies underneath the murky waters of originality and good taste.

The rest of you don’t care because this writing is devoid of pictures, besides the Han Solo pic I used to lure in my geek friends.

By the way, books with pictures in them are reserved for those who are less than 5 years old because their imaginations aren’t that complex and they need pictures to help them.⚡️⚡️😉

The billions of folks who subscribe to Facebook and all the other social media sites are fooled into thinking that in some way they are behaving “socially”, this is not true chickens!

I’m sure I could copy and paste a definition of the word “social” to make my point but that would not change a damn thing. When I first engaged in social media many moons ago I thought foolishly that this would be a perfect forum to give freely of my humorous writings. Not for the sake of ego did I pursue this idea, but for the sake of solidarity in a world consumed by greed and despair.

In this sad world we live in, humor may be our only refuge. When the modern human is consumed by fear and regret, life seems hopeless.

Overwhelmed by pressure and unending feelings of shame and incompetence this modern human self medicates or seeks spiritual refuge.

Since pharmaceutical sales have zoomed past our closed universe it is plain to see that most of us self medicate.

What does that mean Daniel?

Alcohol, drugs (especially those scratched out on those small Rx note pads) are what most of us use to escape the pain of modern life.

There are numerous strange behaviors that accompany fear; over eating, gambling, hoarding, facebookeritis etc etc.

There are medical professionals who say that obsessive behaviors and the consequences of those behaviors are only the results of a collective spiritual malady.

To make it plain, you can take any social problem or deviance and apply the same prognosis; we are full of fear and we put shit in our bodies to not feel fear, we need Jesus. (I’m serious when I say that)

“You keep eating rocks. Rocks are not good for you, you should stop, we all love you. Here is my friend Dr Phil ” and so on.

Please understand, I’m not judging anyone, except those who text for a living.  I myself have engaged in self medication without my Ph.D and became one the most infamous pleasure monkeys to wear a skin suit.

It is clear to me that we all need something or someone outside of ourselves to feel complete (hopefully it’s not texting) The thing or person that we choose to need may be our demise or greatest triumph so to speak.

This brings me back to humor; it is the tool I use to deal with reality and I believe it has been given to me for that reason.

I choose to share it with anybody who will engage in it. It is not my business whether they choose to read or not to read, I will continue to write humor.

It is my purpose.

That was a Matrix moment sweet readers.

I say all of that to say this, I see that texting does have a purpose but let us not forget that we are human beings, we are all unique and filled with passion, love and hope. I know this seems silly to go on and on about the texting world but I’m passionate about remaining human and I miss the ten cent phone booth romance speech with my Amorcita back in ’96 when there was nothing to do but listen to each other’s voice and talk about Love.
Goodnight and Goodluck

Your Humble Literary Servant

D

Ain’t nobody home

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Ain’t nobody home,

she said and pulled her nightgown

into the shadow of the brown wooden

door frame.

I used to live here,

I said and tipped my baseball cap

as I stepped off

the stone porch

into the nightlight

that kissed all of my grandfather’s plumerias.

Then it began to rain

all over my face

as I walked the down the streets

of my hometown.

Millie’s new blues

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(TO THE TUNE OF TOMBSTONE BLUES BY BOB DYLAN)

Ode to the Lit-up Losers…..

The Hamburgular and His Heroine hold down the hoe stroll

While Disney and Facebookers are draining your soul

And the whole wide world is under control

Of the Signal’s hum and It’s power.
Newton and Tupac have left us alone

With gravity’s consequence on the Sickest third stone

And Adam is sleep walking, missing a bone

Holding hands with the snake in the Garden.
Mama’s in the whorehouse

She’s looking for booze

Daddy’s yellow pillbox

Says he just can’t lose

I’m in the jungle

With the blackball blues.
The symmetry of Venus is on the newsstand

Laughing at the candy bars “this must have been planned!”

The Nuts and Diabetics just whisper, “Isn’t this grand?”

While the clerk sifts the dope in his apron

Modern man’s sickness is smiling tonight

And the seeds of my saint’s day just doesn’t seem right

But the Jolly Green Giant has forfeited the fight

For his rights to his beans at the flophouse.
Mama’s in the bathroom

She’s cooking up chris

Daddy’s on the borderline

Holding his piss

I’m in the Desert room

In a blacked out bliss
The Joker and Robin both have gone home

Leaving Batman and us sad folks “like …seriously alone”

Tell me My Captain in the most solemn tone

Is it better in the hellish here or the hereafter?
Footballs and teen spirit are holding us tight

Wearing their numbers and fighting to fight

I think somebody better turn off the big light

And send Babe Ruth to the gallows for his hanging.

The bar rooms and gun shops are stretched the seams

The stars on the playground are grinding their dreams

With Cheswick and Kobe on opposite teams

Still the crowd screams for blood from the chickens.
The Queen Mary and the Love Boat are losing their shine

While Julie and Isaac are cooking up swine

The Muslims are angry but Doc says “it’s fine,

can we please get some courage for the lion?”

Aww Mommas at the courthouse

She’s Lying with men

Daddy’s got the top bunk

At the old state penn

I’m in the liquor store

With my bottled best friend
the best things in life are lost in the breeze

Faith, Hope and Virtue are down on their knees

culture vultures hover, spreading disease

In our mission streets in San Francisco.
Cindy and Bobby Brady are getting their fix

While Rerun and Potsie are plotting bank licks

The magic is gone all that’s left is light tricks

Is there a drink for me in the kitchen?
Mama’s in the whorehouse
She’s looking for booze
Daddy’s yellow pillbox
Says he just can’t lose
I’m in the jungle
With the blackball blues

 

Scene from “The Party” (2017)

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SCENE 13 FROM “THE PARTY” BY D.A. MEDINA

Small clean kitchen in a downtown hotel in the middle of winter in San Francisco, cigarettes fill the ashtray as Antonio rolls a joint, Mireya is dancing to house music, It’s 3 in the morning and they are both a little drunk. 

Antonio:  You asked me earlier how you cut people off so easily…you know (lights the j and inhales deeply) In my heart…you know, what I mean… people I have loved. Whatever you were there…you fucking remember

Mireya: (still moving her hips to some trance music) Yes – I did- I was (laughing) how can I help you?

A: I have been up late…thinking and writing until the early morning…

M: (still dancing) …like always

A: A valve …I use it. I mean I fucking have it!

M: (interrupting) Valve? Wait…ok go…(they both start laughing)

A: Yes love…please let me finish- OK in my mind there is a valve…fuck! This sounds so fucking stupid (Mireya is looking him in the face as he stares out his small window) I turn it in my mind, I mean when I’m trying to disconnect baby…see? this sounds so lame 

M: Please …(grabs her drink) I have to hear this…

A: (Looks Mireya directly in the eyes intently and gravely) When I turn the valve shut I have no feelings for that person anymore, I don’t need to speak with them…I just do not care about them anymore no friendship, no coffee, no updates…none of that. My own Father, I shut the valve on him, I don’t hate him, I don’t care it’s like…. 

M: I mean I’m sorry Antonio…you know how I feel about you, you are my best friend… 

A: (shrugs and forces a fake smile) You know the sad part Mireya? 

M: (slowly) Hmmm? 

A: I have never been able to open the valve once I have closed it…it’s a damn curse! It’s like a mechanism just like writing….it just is…I have been proud of that! ….for so many years (looking down) 

M: Baby…I love you (smiling drunk)

A: Yes Mireya…let me finish, I always thought…..shit Why am I spilling my bullshit all over you?

M: because you love me (smiling and still moving to the beat) 

A: (smiling with his eyes) umm I have always thought it was a just a tool or a way of strength to deal with life’s sorrows and…you know… let downs…disappointments , sounds so cheesy right? 

M: No its not cheesy baby…I mean …I am not so strong 

A: Part of it is because I am a Libra… 

M: Holy fuck! You lost me

A: Libra is the only inanimate sign…inanimate means…

M: (interrupts) I know what inanimate means, without life? The scales?? The balance and order all that bullshit…are you saying…(Antonio is shaking his head yes) …you feel like you don’t have life? Fuck Antonio you are one the most…

A: (cuts her off) Yes I am saying that is exactly how I feel ….. or don’t feel.  

M: (takes a long drink, sits up in her chair, grabs his face..) Well then you are lucky baby! I wish I could do that. 

A: Yeah (takes a long drink and looks down) 

M: So…I mean I have known you in the biblical sense of the word ( Antonio laughs)

A: Hey fucker that’s my line! 

M: I mean we have been friends and lovers for so many years….why haven’t you… Why are you telling me this Antonio? 

Long pause… Camera is on Mireya’s face 

A: Well this is the fucked part…Mireya…two…two reasons…I’m telling…you (sits up in his chair and clears his throat) I have cancer in my bones…. I have cancer Mireya…(looks up at Mireya) Jack ass doctors…they say I got like 6 weeks…(Mireya is sobbing, Antonio holds her long hair in his lap) 

M: I…I love …(crying softly she loses her voice…) 

A: Don’t you want to know the other reason?…Mireya? 

M: (barely audible) Sure mi amor 

A: (lifts her head from his lap and holds her face)Because Mireya , I could never turn the valve on you my love…(Mireya weeping uncontrollably) That’s why I always called you….(his voice cracks)…I mean I tried to…but I couldn’t do it baby, I have always loved you…from the start
…

Mireya crying loudly as Antonio holds her in his lap….Antonio looks out his small window as the rain begins to fall….END SCENE 

Rise and fall of a relationship

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I really feel that I have an advantage writing these papers about relationships, children and parenthood; that ‘hood that you never leave. I have been in my relationship for over 19 years and can speak with both experience and intelligence on this particular subject of relationships.
I really like the title The Rise and Fall of a Relationship , because of the glaring fact that most relationships do not last and it’s easy to find a plethora of information on reasons why they don’t stand the test of time.
The initial meeting stage in Backman’s four stage model is typically the most exciting time and some folks are fooled into believing that their relationship is dipped in the stars and baptized in the waters of heaven. Actually in most cases, propinquity is the key that unlocks the door to newly found relationships.
Of course intimacy is the foundation to all relationships because it involves disclosure and more importantly vulnerability. These I believe are vital to building that arch upon which all good relationships are built. The trust involved in that infancy stage of romance is inimitable and some find when they used sand to make mortar; their foundations are dodgy at best and when the world gets in the way and reality rears its ugly head, the relationship collapses. Conversely, if the bricks are in place and the foundation is solid, relationships can weather any storm and are stronger because of it.
Needless to say, this foundation will determine which road will find four feet, the long road to maintaining the relationship or the short walk to dissolving that which was built on frivolity and lust.
I really like The way Levanger’s model is described in this section, it definitely holds water in my experience.
After 19 years with the same lovely and strong woman the attraction that laid the groundwork is still there and over the years of building and continuing to build thru trial and error I have found that our success was due to physical intimacy, lack of jealousy and communication. We have had times where we both felt our relationship was deteriorating, most couples do.
To pull my skirt even farther up my thigh(gross), our relationship ended for a short period of time but was renewed fairly quickly. Today we are more in love than we were 19 years ago (barf) and I will say that sexuality and burning down the bed from time to time with variations and role playing has solidified our sexual relationship over the last two decades. 
Of course, this is all bullshit we fight like cats in heat. 

If it wasn’t for my god-like dexterity I would be missing a limb or two, eating out of a straw, sniffing drain pipes and reciting the alphabet with Big Bird. 

Misery loves company and I’m her huckleberry hound. 
That’s not completely true either, the truth is actually somewhere in between, but I will never tell.
D.A. Medina

Snow White and the balanced self-monitoring dwarves

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Psych Paper Fun….

I have written numerous indictments against the Snow White story including fair and unbiased appraisals of the sub-text to humor my chick and two daughters, warning them, in my own whimsical way, about the dangers of conformity, being too pretty and living with seven men. In an effort to kill two scales with one Apple (hahahaha) I will attempt to incorporate the answers in the exercise into my reaction which according to my Self-Monitoring Scale seems to be quite balanced.

After living on earth for more than forty years I have gleaned some wisdom from poor decisions and have made a firm resolution over ten years ago to strive to become a fine specimen of manhood, a true human being, a devout reader of books whilst completely disconnecting myself from the “Watchbox” and Its subtle trickery.

These choices have led to a new found balance in my life I had never experienced in the prior 30 years of life. Teenagers, in my humble opinion, are faced with the internet and the television land where the truth is hard to find and creativity wanes.

When creativity wanes it is usually replaced with cheap forms of sex and sexual innuendos leading the youths to believe that pop songs about mounting one another in some unknown club where women with bubble butts sip champagne is reality and will somehow, someday manifest itself in their tiny world of texting.

Of course there are some youths who shun the modern schema and form their own opinions about the way they look and the way they feel about sex. (They usually don’t fit in)

Personally, I have conceded to good health letting the wrinkles lay where they may. My intellect has taken the baton from my weary frame and flesh intent on becoming a complete man; body, mind and soul.

D.A. Medina

On the deep grammar of the White House Correspondents Association Dinner 

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Friends, White House Correspondents, countrymen lend me your ear…pass me a beer and a small plate of fear. The rotten part of me loves the hypocrisy of folks running around the District of Columbia with “Press” badges on. If it wasn’t for all the social lubricants in the rooms and after parties the entire experience may as well be Chaplin flick with ragtime jazz playing in the background. The White House “Elite” rubbing elbows in a silent movie where everyone is smiling and not one soul dares to flick the “mute buttons” off their collective lapels as the whole show would go from Barnum and Bailey to Bobby and Whitney (which in my humble opinion is/was the only real reality show).

It is very difficult to behave as a journalist at the White House Correspondents Association Dinner when your mouth has been sewn shut, your arms have been chopped off and you need an IV in your neck to get anything into your body that resembles a “spirit”.
D.A. Medina