Quoth I a Valley-girl "high"

OHmiGAWDDD!

Just handed in my official essay.
Nice..................

so what now? yammering on the keyboards....
my shoulders are skittering, because of some peelage on them.
That's what happens when you kiss the sun for wayyy too long...

Kewl! Truckker TANs! Sleeveless Ts are nice, but the funny thing about them is that they have no shoulder-rags to wipe yer chill on, yup, look ma: no sleeves! I don't mind, it's the shirt-tail wag for me, but really, is that a ploy for the Calvin Kleins out there??

Okay, picture this (don't do it if you are easily turned on/off)

You have some cool trickling down your face, so what? down you swipe up the hem(p) of your T, and do a quick dab. okay. what shows?

Your FReakin Belt Zone, is what.
So if you are like them chillahs and playahs and gots yer pants sliding down past yer hips, then your undie is showing, and what do you read?
Calvin Kleins, Jockey, Joe Boxers , Tommy Hilfiger and What have yas...
And you do yer Kardio exercises just right, you might sport some abs, and suddenly the mid-riff is a signifier/signified for SEX, and the undies and the intimates et cetera et cetera...

some people call it unconscious flirting
some people call it wiping of sweat
some people call it gross

i call it "product placement".

damnit... Fucking Calvin Klein owes me at least a few grand for that kinda product placements, if you ask me. Is them more insidious than a Darth Lord of the Sith, hey?

but then again, the body is nothing more than an abstract site for advertise-ments... but at least billboards get rent monies, I don't. okay-okay, could be worst, i could be paying those undies... what?!
just cuz my aunt works at a Duty-Free place in a transit lounge, and gets good deals, you gonna rag on me?!

get in line baby.
heheheheheheheh

I actually am amused at the Superstore Ads and London Drugs ads that they throw at my door-step. It hit me quite suddenly -- the fact that I felt like a nameless john going to go a-whoring.

What?! you said... yeah, look at it this way... I was flipping to the kids' toys section of the two flyers and I found that they have these semi~utterly cheesy concrete surfboards on sale...that's 19.99 to 49.99... I mean, the graphics aren't that bad... buyt there is no sense of Personalization, right?

I went to town and went window drooling, and they have all these kick-arse rides but they are all so expensive -- like getting into a long term relationships and commitments( can we say "mortgage?") ... so suddenly, all these generic b(r)oards hanging by the aisles of those Consumer Bazaars ( okay, bizarres), suddenly felt... accessible...

(Cue: Belly dancers in the background, the exotic incense, and Middle eastern music)

I feel like I am in some ancient Arabic world somewhere between Constantinople and Bagdad, under the Ottaman empire, and all these purpled veiled women with khol-ringed eyes are trying to sell me a night of pleasures... yeap. those cheap concrete surf jobs are all there beckoning me.. they're saying "c'mon...take me fora ride, i'll guarantee a good time... i'm a nine-ply baby with good wheels.. and if we crash and I'm scrapped it's okay... it's only 29.99...i'm..economical"

before you come crashing down on my head and call me a misogynistic piece of sex-starved dick... don't. What I have just illustrated is the way how the sk8 culture have become so crass and commercialized, and there is no respect for the spirit of things.

I want passion and ecstacy that is prelude to a meaningful meditation, a conjugal consummation with the city and the neon and the techno-pulse of this Concrete Samsarah... I want to be ex-stasis-tic, to get some real Air.

I'm lookin' for love, baby... not a temporary high.
But tell me, who can afford true love nowadays?

sigh...

fuck it.
I'll ride the gulag of a public transportation, slum in the galleys with the wage-slaves.
Pigs with sticks on the banks of the downtown SUV rivers, all that tow and flow of cars and bikes...but I just wanna surf. No secret and lost lagoon... this is the tragic romance of embodied character.

Or as Cassius would've said:
Why, now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

I just wish, somedays, y'know?