How I Flirt With Death

I flirt with death every day of my life. This afternoon I walked through the Venice Canals enjoying the sounds of children playing, ducks quacking, and the schizophrenic man asking people a random assortment of requests. I passed happy groups of 30-somethings ignoring each other while texting other friends from iPhones in the beautiful 75 degree weather. I had just breakfasted with Arnold Schwarzenegger and life felt dandy. I happened to take a picture to show what I was seeing at the exact moment Chopin's Sonata No. 2 trumpeted over my iPhone.


Close your eyes and imagine what the Grim Reaper looks like. You probably have a picture in your head of a hooded figure in tattered black robes holding a scythe with bones for fingers. I am here today to say this is not accurate. The Grim Reaper actually looks like my mom. Please don't mistake the last statement as me saying I believe my mom is the Grim Reaper. I know she is not. My mom simply has the misfortune of the Grim Reaper often using her form as a decoy. If I were my mom I would take this as a complement because once the Grim Reaper figured out he was getting nowhere by having people run at his sight he had to figure out a different look. By changing to the form of a caring mom he can now sneak up on people and fuck with their heads. The gentle look of a mom is very practical wouldn't you say? I have a picture for you to see. Study it closely and don't let the pink antenna throw you off because I agree the fuzz is cute but that's not my mom, its a decoy. Notice the eyes...shifty, calculating, and pensive. This is actually a picture of the Grim Reaper.

When my phone rang I answered full of life and spunk. It sucks to have The Grim Reaper look and sound like your mom because you never know who you are talking to. By now I know in order to keep my ideas, dreams, and perhaps life in tact I must throw out upbeat decoys to keep the Grim Reaper at bay. For example, when you are talking to the Grim Reaper you never want to use phrases like, "I'm tired", "I did not eat breakfast today" and "I'm hungry" because those phrases are energy to the Reaper and make him grow stronger. The Grip Reaper is highly skilled in questioning and can easily trap you if you are not always fully aware. For example, if the Grim Reaper says "Did you have a good day" you always say "absolutely". Never say, "yes" or "it was OK". In GR language that is translated as a red flag for illness or depression and he goes in for the kill. If the Grim Reaper asks, "are you feeling well?" the answer is obvious, you always say, "I ran 5 miles this morning and I have never, ever felt better". If you say "I feel fine" you are one foot in the grave.

Sometimes The G.R. simply watches the news and derives conclusions beyond your control. For example the formally hooded figure may call and say "I was watching the news and it looks like you are going to be SLAMMED with a hurricane. Where are you going to retreat?" The worst thing to say is "oh, I don't know...If it does hit, my friends and I will watch it from the safety of some one's condo and have a party". Power up! Its on! The GR is in full swing and we are now playing ball. Your death is imminent and the Grim Reaper is there to make sure you know it.

Today when I received the phone call I made the mistake of mentioning wanting to live in two different locations, Florida and CA. My three year boyfriend lives in LA and we have been commuting back and forth to see each other and it is time to step up the relationship. The following is the conversation The GR and I had:

Me: I am thinking of spending more time in CA.
GR: Why?
Me: I want to see Seth more and I like it in CA. There are lots of cool people doing cool things.
GR: I don't like it there.
Me: When did you visit CA?
GR: I have not been but I know I don't like it. The Southside, the traffic, the smog, yuck.
Me: Really? Its really pretty and there are lots of people my age building really cool ideas.
GR: What is the weather like?
Me: Today its a little chilly.
GR: Its warm in FL today and you like to be warm.
Me: (noticing I was not on the phone with my mom I simply said) I have to go.

It was a close call but the GR did manage to fill me with some doubt and fear. The fear is not too crippling but the seed was planted. All day my asthma acted up because of the smog, wild fires are burning a little brighter, and traffic was worse then ever. There is something in my constitution that tells me The Grim Reaper is not trying to make me anxious so I kill over with a heart attack. In fact I think the Grim Reaper is there to protect me. Something tells me the Angel of Death is simply misunderstood on its intentions but I certainly understand where he got a bad rap. However, I do wish he would leave my mom out of all this madness.

On another note...my sister announced her pregnancy last week and we are all very excited and I am really looking forward to meeting my nephew. He is going to be a Taurus just like me. However, I am a little worried for the tyke. I discovered this picture and I'm afraid his mom's form has already been copied. I can see it in the eyes.

Who's Your Daddi

Rachel and I may never find righteousness. You would think by the crime fighting underworld we live in we would be as calloused as a naked cowboys ass. Before you roll your eyes you should know they do exist and I have a picture to prove it. For the most part Rachel and I are very hardened but today we added a layer of rough skin that proves we have seen it all. Without doubt we lived an entire life of debauchery packed into the hours of 7PM and 7AM on Sunday night.

The day began with the sun rising and me stretching my arms to heaven. I kissed the blue birds that flew in my window and whistled with them for only a moment because on this day we had a lot to do. I shooed them along while Rachel and I strapped our fanny packs around our waist, tucked our shirts into our khakis, buckled our braided leather belts, clipped our cell phones in a locked position and met the day with a mighty smile. We did not feel right about dressing as traditional ninjas on this day because we just wanted to fit in for once. "The Big Boss" lead us on a difficult scavenger hunt through the city where we had to find clues which lead us to Lombard Street, The Golden Gate Bridge, and concluded at The Antique Arcade Museum in Fisherman's Wharf. There we found what we had been lead to San Francisco to learn...the art of execution. Although Rachel felt it was a waste of our time I was very excited to take part in executioner training. I am not as skilled in the subject as Rachel so the refresher was helpful. We recorded a video to let rival Scooter Gangs know we really mean business and its a good thing we did. Later in the afternoon we found some rouges in a new form of transportation. This is a picture of Rachel threatening them.

By the end of the day it was time to paint the town red and after digging we found Folsom Festival. Folsom is a fetish festival and anything goes. We agreed we would be silent observers of the festival and the night began with a simple glass of wine at a cute wine bar named Blush on Castro then the party moved to Club 440 (a leather bar) where we watched the The Biggest Bulge contest. The rules for the biggest Bulge are simple.

1) Wear a jock strap or any underwear of your choosing.
2) Dance in front of a room full of ravaging men.
3) Have a large penis.

Oddly, Rachel won the contest but only because she blew our cover and showed our execution video to the announcer.

The night concluded at 4:00AM by Rachel allowing her new slave to be be untied...then she left with a porn star. A text message the following morning commanding me to call her by her new drag name "Tara Fie" let me know she was OK. I, on the other hand, woke up chained to an improvised toilet stall in a garage with a red bearded dude yelling I was his new bitch. After he took the leather underwear out of my mouth I explained I was already a bitch of Rachel's/Tara Fie. He is pictured here.

I can't remember the entire night and thankfully I met a new friend named Donnie Madden. Donnie, a leather daddy, and a cute military dude hung out with me and if my memory serves well we had a great night together. Donnie is one of LA's hottest photographers and was payed to photograph people of the festival. He has A LOT of photos of the event (not for the weak at heart) and you can see them all at www.DiegoFeliz.com. I have posted some from my recollection of the evening here.

Today was the first day I don't have the taste of leather in my mouth and the hand prints have dissipated from my ass. I remember asking Rachel not to slap so hard but she kept screaming "you have been Tera Fied". It all makes sense now.

I am back in my San Francisco office and it just so happens Rachel is in town too. Although we told everyone in Sarasota we were on vacation we're actually using this time to stratgize the future of our Scooter Gang. As far as the gang goes we could not be doing better! We continue to rise as natural bad asses pillaging enemy camps and leaving no mercy where ever we go. We have our turf marked and for the most part no one messes with us. Sure, there's the occasional "rough guy" who tries to harm us and only four weeks ago we had to participate in one of the most high risk combats known to the gang. It was absolute carnage because the most notorious rival gang member from The Eastside Pickle Kissers came to town without warning. Notice his pink scooter, basket, and smug grin. Don't let any of that fool you because he is as dangerous as they come.

Anyway, Rachel and I are taking this time to rethink our home city, Sarasota. At one point the city thrived. Sarasota government needed us. Now that we spent years working around the clock (not to mention the expense of buying a scooter and ninja training) insuring safety for everyone they have forgotten our commitment to the fine people of the city. Its seems the more skilled we became the less we were appreciated and now the new city commission has countless phone calls from residents asking why a giant ninja and her sidekick are patrolling the streets. These signs have started to pop up around town and we are alarmed. I am not sure what will become of us but the city seems to have prioritized the placement of these signs over their decision on parking meters.

This morning I was in Vegas reading the back of my Anti-Viral medication and preparing for another winning streak in Craps. My phone rang Chopin's sonata no.2 (my Mom's ringtone) and I decided it would be bad luck for me to hear "The Death Toll" before I rolled the dice. "The Death Toll" is what my sister and I refer to as mom's hit list of recently deceased and sickly from our hometown in NC. Although its helpful to hear the latest news and gossip, it's bad mojo to hear of the demise of former teachers, friends, and neighbors while gambling. My mom can't help being paranoid and although I have tried to talk her out of her crazy thoughts she is always paranoid of unavoidable danger. This is a picture with her and my dad in a helmet. They are staying safe.

Because I did not answer the phone the first time she called back. I hit ignore again she called back again. Fearing The Death Toll was including someone in my family I answered to have my mom say, "I think you should phone a doctor". I knew what why she was telling me to phone a doctor but I was clueless as to how she saw the video. As it turns out she knows how to use the computer and I suppose she only plays dumb when I am trying to teach her.

On a really good note I am out of the incubation for Swine Flu.

Why does God smite us?

No one really likes being sick. Well, let me take that back, there are those insane Munchausen people who actually like ailing but not me. There is not a day in my life where I don't think to myself "I hope I don't get sick from touching that __________ (fill in any number of words here money/counter top/rim of the glass/public restroom)". I have this neurosis because of my mom whom I think may have Munchausen By Proxy Syndrome, a disorder that forces other people to think they are sick. My sister and I worry about illness because there has never been a conversation with my mom that did not include all or some of the following statements, "Are you sure you are feeling well", "you look depressed", "you will never guess who died", or "That will make you sick".

Yesterday God smited me and I have been sitting in a Park Slope coffee shop all day wondering what I did to deserve God's blatant smite. You see, I am pretty sure the girl sitting next to me on the plane ride to NYC gave me Swine Flu. It's true, I can feel H1N1 divide in my body as I type this and I am quite anxious about the whole thing. I clicked WebMD on my toolbar and it says I have to wait up to 7 days for incubation.

I took this video of the girl on the airplane and for 4 hours all I could do is sit and wonder why she got on the airplane. Why? Why would she touch the arm rests I shared with her? Why? This lady was seriously sick. At mid-flight the attendant called for a doctor who ended up laying her out of the floor. When we landed she was escorted off the plane by a stretcher. I am truly sorry she is sick and I hope she is ok. However, the lesson in this whole story is DO NOT get on an airplane if you have Swine Flu. Its not fair to the 200 other people who are sharing the air with you.

There was a sign when I got on the plane that specifically stated, "if you think you have Swine Flu don't board the flight". Its in all the airports. I attached the picture of the sign at JFK.

My Bad Ass Gang

This is Rachel and she's my friend. Well, let me clarify, she is an "in person" friend but not yet a friend who follows my blog. However, she is a Friend on Facebook and I feel certain if Rachel had Twitter we would follow each other so that makes us pretty close. Here we are pictured in plain-clothes holding a balloon on her scooter (mine is in the shop). Rachel makes a terrific friend for many reasons:

1) Her last name is Jean-Pierre which is wildly fun to say.
2) She is pretty tall but to accentuate her glory Rachel's mom asked her to stand
out by wearing high heels so now she is amazon height.
3) When she sings "Man In the Mirror" at late night karaoke there is not a dry eye in the room.
4) She is my back up in our scooter gang.

#4 is very important and before you laugh I need you to understand scooter gangs are a very risky business. Sure, we all have to act "urban" and "yuppie" but underneath it all we are actually dark souls. The streets are filled with us. We appear to carelessly sit perfectly positioned upright with blissful smiles on our face but in fact we are pretty bad ass. Plus we are trained ninjas - its a requirement for our gang for various reasons. Rachel is a WAY better ninja then I am. Its a fact, Rachel is my backup and I am her bitch. Here we are pictured.

My First Friend

I'm day two in my journey as a blogger. My San Francisco office, The Nook on Hyde street, is filled with the usual suspects listening to underground house beats with 16 other people (15 of which have a computer and are surfing the net). There is this guy (pictured here) who has taken the seat next to me every day. I don't know his name or too much about him - I know he is a coder (because I can see his screen) and he must think of The Nook as his office too. A few days ago I tried to engage in conversation with him. He barely looked at me. I thought he was rude but now I know he is busy talking to his friends that live in his computer and he does not need me.

There is one guy without a computer sitting by himself and trying to make friends with real people. He is a fresh face to our office and reminds me of me on my first day. He is a handsome fellow next to the open window and probably remembering a yesteryear when coffee shops were places for exchange and not the computer driven hubs they have become. I bet he also wishes he brought a computer to work so he could socialize. He is in the wrong place if he wants to get to know people here. This room is filled to the rim of people ignoring each other and taking deep ganders inside their MacBooks. We are talking to the friends that live inside our glowing screens. We don't have time for him.

Smartly dressed, pretty people are editing, writing, sipping chai, and ignoring each other because the real action is inside our computer. See, the guy by himself has probability stacked against him if he wants to make friends. As I see it there are 6,706,993,152 people on the planet and 1,668,870,408 of those people have internet access. That's right, EXACTLY 1,668,870,408. Thats a lot of opportunity to meet new people...and more importantly that's a lot of people that can read my blog. The handsome new guy does not know the ropes in this joint yet. I'm sure he will quickly learn the glowing boxes we are all gazing in are how to meet people here.

As a new blogger I am hopeful millions of people will read my posts and want to share in my life and based on internet usage stats the probability is stacked in my favor. I got my first virtual blog friend today. His name is Rich and he did not stumble on my blog looking for information. No way, I emailed him and told him to follow me and he did. I was hoping for someone like The Travel Channel or a reality show producer but for now Rich will have to do. I have included a picture of my new blog friend Rich. He is hugging a giant nurse leg on a statue in Sarasota. He is a winner. I am on the road to blogger fame.

Its popped...

Before a trip to Japan in 2004 a then nobody but now famous blogger (pictured here before her glory) said to me, "Matt, if you are going to overseas you should start a blog. You're funny, always meet people, and seem to find the best hidden spots. You can be a travel writer and see the world". It seemed interesting and the word "blog" was catchy so I bit the bait, "whats a blog?". "A blog is a place on the internet where you can share your entire life with everyone in the world - kind of like a diary". My reply - "fuck that - that's dumb. Diaries are private and come with locks for a reason". She spent the next 15 mins yammering about things like "social media, connecting, everything's changing, its the future, blah blah blah" I tuned her out and sat for 5 years blogless. Today I sit and read my now famous blogger friend (who is way less interesting - just an early adopter) travel the world and get featured on CNN on someone elses dime. When she types her fingers make people money and her life is easy (excluding public transportation in certain cities).

I have given in. We live in public and my business partner is forcing me to start a blog for our online media. Maybe millions of people are interested in me or maybe my parents will be the only ones who care. None the less, I sit in a coffee shop in San Francisco with 14 other people all working on MacBooks, listening to punk music from the 80's.

Oh, and about my blogger friend. I am not going to mention her name until she gives me some love on CNN.

P.S. I am going to try and upload a video from YouTube of The Nook. Why? To see if I can figure this out.