Today, my Apple died.

I am beyond upset right now. Trauma has set in.

My poor little Apple Shuffle just quit on me at the time I needed it most. Dammit, I'm about to board a plane for gawd knows how many hours??? and how many effin' layovers with NO MUSIC! NOTHING TO LISTEN TO!!!

Beans tried her best to help me. I mean, she stopped whatever work she was doing and tried troubleshooting the "factory restore" (sync) issue that I was having when I tried to transfer some CD music files to my shuffle, and for whatever reason, I had wiped out my entire music library and the damn thing refused to load any new material. I was absolutely devastated. I've been plugged in for the past few days; STRESSED, bypassing conversations and human contact. Now I have a belly ache.

I liked my (temporary) serene musical world. Just having the safety of those little white earbuds tucked into my lobes gave me a sense of anonymity. I didn't need to make airplane friends. I could ignore perverted porters and the stares from strangers who think I'm someone I'm not.

I was able to pick up a new read that I've been waiting for: Magical Thinking along with a few leftover trashy Enquirers and Globe magazines from my Mom. Along with these, clutching my Pepperidge Farms Brussel Mint cookies and whatever energy drink I can find, dressed in a gray track suit and oversized shades I'm going to look homeless on that plane. Or like a star.

Rest in pieces, little Apple Shuffle.

For you I dedicate: the lyrics to Chasing Pavements (because I've been singing this song all day, and now it's all I've got...)

I've made up my mind / No need to think it over, If i'm wrong I aint right / No need to look no further,

This ain't lust, This is love but, If i tell the world, I'll never say enough,

Cause it was not said to you, And thats exactly what i need to do, If i'm in love with you, Should i give up,

Or should i just keep chasing pavements? Even if it leads nowhere, Or would it be a waste? Even If i knew my place should i leave it there?

Should i give up, Or should i just keep chasing pavements? Even if it leads nowhere, I'd build myself up, And fly around in circles, Wait then as my heart drops, and my back begins to tingle, finally could this be it...

More of my writing - I've been a little bit inspired lately.

Beach Visit - (by me!)

Dirty ocean water
licked quietly at the shore
soaking the salty residue
well into my pores
I inhaled the stale fishy smell
deep into my nose
meeting the sandy Venice beach strip
that eagerly greeted my wiggly toes.

With my hands grasped firmly
between my father’s huge ashen fingers
and my mother’s clunky rings,
we strolled together
down the paper littered pathway
amidst a carnival of things.

No higher was my sight
than several feet above the sand,
my child-sized view gazed in place
observing with curious admiration
the adult knees and paper popcorn sacks
that greeted me soundly in the face.

Sights and sounds cluttered the air
and teased my five immature senses
I stared wide-eyed and swivel-headed
Dizzy with anticipation
At the defunct street performers
Who juggled with glass and cast-off trash
Street vendors, freaks of nature
And those partially clothed strangers,
with puckered souring sweaty flesh
bound by tourist I heart blank t-shirts
And fake leather fanny packs, en masse
Sweating from the glaring rays
This beach boardwalk had seen better days.

Colorful graffiti animals danced across
huge stucco tiled Spanish walls
and cracked clay arches.
Broken neon bulbs hung low with dread
yellowed beachfront apartments
winked their weary curtained eyes
with flower pots and laundry lines
trailing from window to window
like intricate cotton hemp woven spider webs.

Block long storefronts flashed
their magical market wares
as gypsy merchants call out
flaunting their goods in an attempt
to trap the tourists and snare
a traveler’s check that was far from its lair.

Somewhere, among there on the ground,
littered with receipts and cans,
people and sand, scraps
garbage from a once well thought-out plan
a beggar’s delight of glittering translucent bottles
shiny kite remnants, strings and things that blow
crinkled foil balls from hot dogs long ago
sat an open violin case
sparsely sprinkled with dull pennies
maybe a rare silver coin
even rarer to spot, a green paper gem.

An extra-ordinary beach prophet
strummed an inaudible tune
on a rusted, two-stringed guitar
in the shape of a hula girl –
The most exotic Hawaiian goddess
I had ever seen
with a full coconut cup bra
she gazed at the man with admiring eyes
swaying her hips in a grass lei jade green
and appeared in further detail
to look more like a dulled tattoo,
peeled from an unknowing sailor’s back,
her pride as a kept woman showed through.

The both of them, together
appeared to be a couple of misfits
made for each other, quite clear
in their distant dream world,
where no stranger was let in,
played the sweetest melody
no one would ever hear.

A song for every mood

I went for a long walk today. Lots on my mind as usual. My best bud Ferd isn’t talking to me for whatever reason. I didn't do anything wrong for once. A lot of people around me seem to be acting haywire, no fault of their own.

Guess things just build up after a while.

(Listening to: ‘Any Other Day" – Wyclef feat. Norah Jones)

I walked along the perimeter of my work building. It was really nice outside. Beach weather. Too beautiful to actually be cooped up under fluorescent lighting for nine hours without a lunch or a stretch. It’s almost 4:00 pm now. The wind was blowing slightly. I twisted my bangs away from my face and pinned them in a faux-hawk, I didn’t care if it got messy. The walking trail was light. Just me and petite lady in a huge straw visor, sunglasses and gloves. She was ahead of me about five yards. I closed in quickly, clipped at her heels, then easily passed her by.
Damn Ferd made me question my friendship with him. I take my friendships seriously.

It weighed heavy on my heart. I slowed my pace and strolled the parking lot close to the concrete wall. I preferred to stay between the parking cinder blocks and the freeway retaining wall. There was annoying comfort in this cushion. The buzz of thunderous semi's and rattling cars was noisy and dull. Familiar. White noise, just far enough away to where I could still think. I walked with my left arm outstretched, elbow crooked so as not to scrape my fingertips. I’ve got long monkey arms.

(Listening to: "The Seed" – Person L.)

I’ve known Ferd almost 20 years. Never a fight, argument or anything more than a football disagreement (sorry man, Jets still suck, I don’t care what you say– I'm a Philly fan for life!) Why he’s bitching out on me now is just weird. I guess everyone outgrows their friends, maybe not all, maybe not all at the same time, but it’s seemingly rare to stay buddies with the kids you’ve known since kindergarten. Ferd is the last of the gang for me. The last member of the high school posse that I still stay in touch with. The last memory I have of my best friend Gabe. He knows some of my dirt and I know almost all of his.

I edged my way from the parking lot onto the unevenly paved sidewalk near the street. It was shady and serene. I love being surrounded by trees and grass. Right then, a beautiful yellow and black spotted butterfly darted by; too pale to be a Monarch. It looked like a girl’s barrette had come to fluttering life. Christ, my simple walk turned into a scene out of a Disney movie. A breeze kicked up. I smiled to myself. A car drove by and honked loudly, rattling me out of my daydream. Invasive fucker. The driver pulled to the side ahead of me and began backing up slowly. I kept walking. "Excuse me," said the driver of the dusty red Kia Sephia. He coasted along evenly with my stride. "I just wanted to tell you you’re very pretty." I glanced in his direction, nodded, then pursed my mouth into tight-lipped acknowledgement. ‘At what point do you offer me candy, sir?’ I thought. I’m really hungry. I might just take it.

Un-phased, he let out a guttural grunt then peeled away from the curb. The lawnmower engine strained furiously. He might as well been driving a golf cart. My walk was tainted. My bubble, slightly dented. There is so little sanctity in simple pleasures anymore.

Ferd, stop acting like a dick or I’ll tell everyone about what you made me help you do for that chick in San Diego.

Listening to: "Chasing Pavements" – Adele (Wow, this woman gives me chills. New girl crush alert!!) If you’re reading my blog, and if you love me, you’ll download it.