uncorked

I don't think I'll ever cut it, neither as a priest nor bartender. This, despite my trusty "Do not mess with Drunks" rule by which I faithfully abide. A rule, I might add, that has served me quite well; call it self-preservation-through-conflict-avoidance.

Each morning I peel the kitty cat off me and tell her to behave as I head out in search of dragons to slay. I ritualistically join fellow caffein-aholics at our neighborhood watering hole with a cheery greeting from Wally, Fred hollers a slightly accusatory "You're late!" capped with a polite nod to the breakfast club. Regulars notwithstanding, one never knows who might slide up alongside ya at the bar. Judging from his innocuous chatter, my neighbor today appeared friendly enough; or so it seemed. For some, the ring of a cell-phone also summons an imaginary cone-of-silence; think reverse-elevator-silence. Personal laundry is splattered, Gallagher-like, in grievously stark detail to all within earshot before being dispatched over the airwaves. My affable counter-mate is suddenly transformed into something possessed; a seething, ranting, bitter ex-something forecasting grand malevolence for that (once cherished) person on the other end of the phone line. I felt like a reluctant voyeur to this one-sided, insipid tirade.
For others, it seems neither alcoholic nor cellular catalyst is required to trigger an unprovoked, uncensored marathon confession. Is it me? Last night, exhausted to the verge of tears, I flew home beside one such individual. His depth of objectification (and some derision tossed in for good measure) of the opposite sex bordered on being unfathomably comical. No amount of hail marys would've helped this poor soul. Have we no inside-voice no more? While typically non-confrontational, I was seriously at risk of running afoul of my own rule. Sadly, I must take this opportunity to apologize for being a wuss and not HTFU in front of the raving lunatic in 17F.

In either case, it felt like I was being flashed and merely stood there, mouth agape, rather dumbfounded....(rant off)

Truth in advertising; just musing

Last night, as I was being lulled asleep by the president's speech in Tucson I couldn't help but feel just a splash of national pride as the swell and heave of his words rallied the sad, weary people to applause. The power of words, be it claim, assurance, or comfort is impressive..... Barely an hour earlier I had assured a friend of the structural soundness of a certain product emblazoned with 'Made in Malaysia'. My shaky delivery was backed by the feeble touch of true conviction......

Enroute to Tampa, I bumped into a couple from my native land. We chatted a little about the weather but, curiously, your typical reminiscing didn't ensue. You know, the kind of "You're from where?", "Remember this?", "Is whatever still there?" conversation. Not that they weren't nice or nuthin'; but sometimes you just 'let it be'. They retreat to passing commentary in cantonese while I traipse off to harass the lady at the smoothie counter. Oddly enough though, the next fella I talked to declared himself, rather proudly, a WVU alum and a paisan moment was to be had; he was picking up what I was laying down. We were practically high-fiving, perhaps to the chagrin of the airport-worn travelers about us. Funny how in the former, the claimed kinship rang hollow while in the latter, well not so much a stumble.

It is far too early for me to wax nostalgic; really, really I'm barely through a mid-life crisis! But in these battle-weary days, it was easy to succumb. Yes, yes...looking back not forward. I told my new friend about my (catholic) high-school science project back in the early 80s. With the help of dad (miss you), I built an artificial heart. Jarvik 7 it was not but there was plexiglass, atriums, ventricles, mitral valves....the works. It impressed me. Yet the kid who won the fair had a far simpler, yet more engaging display. He, with help of family from across the border in Johor, had brought vats of latex and a clothesline adorned with cylindrical, porcelain molds. His subject: "Condoms can stop AIDS". It was technically trivial, slightly provocative but superbly timely. Over the years, I’ve had the lesson repeat itself (again and again), perhaps it has finally sunk in.

In a moment of emboldened, unmitigated surge of self-worth, I quietly declare myself “Not so bad”; after all I’m still a Libran.

So to my new pal Lilly, “Buatan Malaysia”, have no fear; it’s pretty teguh !