Part of him wanted to lay her down on the bed and hold her and make passionate love to her the way they do in romantic movies. Part of him wanted to get his clothes on and get out of there as fast as possible. And never look back. And never discuss this moment. Ever.

They were covered in soapy bubbles, standing close to each other in the shower of her Fort Lauderdale townhouse. Steam crept down the bathroom mirror.

“Does that feel OK?” she asked, running her fingertips through the lather on his shoulder. He was a burly man, a merchant marine in his 40s who’d spent most of his life at sea. The only woman with whom he’d had any relationship was his mother, who was both religious and abusive. She’d often reminded him that sex was a dirty, sinful, unspeakable act.

Catherine, the woman touching him in the shower, was the first woman who’d ever caressed him.

“That feels good,” he said in a shaky voice.

“Now I’m going to rub the other shoulder,” Catherine said. A slim, modest-looking woman with straight, soft hair and a smooth, warm face, she was calm and reassuring. “That isn’t too bad, is it?”

Before they got in the shower, they’d talked a bit, getting to know each other. They started with soft touching on the hands and arms. Eventually, they were standing naked next to each other.

All the while, Catherine encouraged him to talk about how he was feeling.

He said he was frightened, tense. He couldn’t stop thinking about what his mother had told him so many times. He couldn’t help but feel that what he was doing was wrong. But it also felt good to be touched. It felt good to connect with someone, even if it was just temporary.

Catherine continued rubbing him and speaking in a soothing, caring tone.

He extended his hands to her body. First to her hands and arms, then her shoulders and stomach, and soon her breasts. As his hands moved over Catherine’s soapy body, he gulped. His eyes turned glassy. His hands shook. He felt a twisting deep in his chest.

Soon it was too much for him. The merchant marine was overwhelmed by the experience. He began sobbing.

“That’s all right,” she said, still covered in bubbles. Catherine’s voice was like warm syrup on a cold morning. “Stay with your feelings. Talk to me. It’s OK.”  (more @ NewTimes)

My neighbor, Mr. Brown, has quite a way with words and hurling insults - especially when they are directed at children and pets. This is why he is one of my favorite people in the world. Recently, Mr. Brown has been on fire with his heckling of small children as they ride their bikes up and down the block. The little kids love it though. They go out of their way to get Mr. Brown’s attention because if Mr. Brown insults you it means he likes you.

======

A little nine year-old girl was riding her pink BMX bike down the street and, before she even got to Mr. Brown’s house, he was up and out of his plastic chair yelling at her.

“Get on outta here!! This ain’t your block!! You don’t live here!!”

“Shut up, Mr. Brown!! You a bald-headed old man.”

“WHAT?? You need to take yo’self back up to that Korean store where you got that wig at and get your money back.”

“You a crazy old man!! At least I got hair.”

“You’re a bum. Get offa my block an’ go back down to Carroll Street where all the rest of them bums live at!” (more…)

Riding my bicycle along
Hollywood Boulevard today
I saw him in the crowd - noticed
him instantly. When we reached
each other, I said hi and asked
if he would mind if I took his
photo.
“You want my photo?”
Yeah, I said. There’s nobody
like you.
“I know.” And he smiled for me
-although his face was
evidently destroyed by something-
and his mouth reconstructed.

I asked him what happened.
“Shot,” he said. “Shot in the
face.” He motioned a gun
at close range being shot
directly into his face.

And you survived that? I asked.
“No,” he said with a smile.
“I’m dead.”
I apologized for what was
a stupid question, but it
was hard to fathom - gun shot-
close range - into his face. And
he lived.

So what happened? I asked.
Was it an accident, or did
someone mean to shoot you?

“I did it myself. Tried to kill
myself.” (more…)

Imagine you are able to fulfill one lasting wish–the wish of all wishes, the one wish that those you love get to live with you, through you. Who would you be? Where would you go? What would you do?

It’s an almost paralyzing dilemma, isn’t it?

Now, imagine you are 8 years old. How could you possibly know how to wish a wish so all-important?

My guest wished to be the President of the United States today. And so he was, from first thing in the morning to late in the afternoon–and no part of the reality of this wish was omitted–not the 30-person security detail, nor a complete motorcade, nor a police escort and a pool press photographer.

Part of his day brought him to my restaurant for lunch, a private lunch that I had helped to plan. And I am quite sure that I will never have such an extraordinary hour at work again.

In the midst of so many busy shifts this week, and taking on new part-time assistant duties to the event manager, I had almost forgotten today was the day the “President” would visit. When this dawned on me mid-walk to work, I was already a half hour later than usual. I made up time by skipping breakfast. (more…)

This won’t be whimsical stories of yore; this is just stuff that is happening.

So there’s this dude, we’ll call him ‘Fan’, whose birthday was last night. He invited me & LJ out for this a few weeks ago, as well as the other two white dudes in this city (who we are friends with). Anyway since the other two white dudes in this city are heading home for the holidays, our mutual friends decided to throw a last minute party for them.

So anyway this puts us white people in a bit of an awkward position… We’re at another dinner with our friends while Fan is expecting us to be at his dinner. By the way, nobody really likes Fan. I’m pretty sure he only likes us because we’re white and he wants to show off that he’s got foreign friends. At basketball yesterday he was kind of being a jerk to me and trying to force me to talk to these random girls. Regardless, my position on the whole thing was that since it was his birthday we’d let him have his big day and let him show us off to his friends… but now we’re at another party.

So anyway we get really drunk on Baijio (which is this disgusting fermented rice wine, it’s about 55% alcohol and is just terrible) and everyone’s getting loud and noisy and we keep text messaging Fan telling him we’ll be late for his party etc, etc and then, miraculously, a lot of beer shows up. Last night was the first night that I actually felt like drinking since I’ve been here, and now there’s beer, so I just assume fate wants to take the wheel and I go all out.

In China the rule is that when someone cheers you (which is plenty and often) you need to drink the same amount that the other person does. And while our friends at this dinner can probably school me with Baijio, there are certain things you should never do, one of them being trying to out-drink a Canadian when there is beer present.

I’m already pretty drunk so I start with the biggest guy there and basically I get him so drunk that he falls down an entire flight of stairs. Then when I chug another quart of beer and this other dude can’t do it, his friends hold him down, pry his mouth open, and nearly drown him. It was actually kind of scary. The night’s going pleasantly enough. Our friends make a big speech while I’m in the bathroom about how nobody likes Fan.

Anyway pretty soon people switch to orange juice, which is a sign that we’re all ready to go. We assume we’ll be able to go to Fan’s party pretty soon. We leave the hotel and then suddenly our friends decide to come. I’m a bit wary, but way too drunk to speak sentences. We get our driver to pull around front with the van and all pile in, and we’re off to the next party.

We get there and there’s Fan and like 20 of his gangly little friends. They all look about 19 years old (Fan’s 20).. tiny little kids.. all of our friends are in their late 30s or 40s, so they’re pretty much grown up. There’s this giant beautiful birthday cake in the middle of the table. Fan looks really happy. We grab all the beer available and sit down and then one of our friends basically just reaches into the middle of the table, picks up the cake, and basically just fucking smashes it into Fan’s face in front of all his friends! And then we all basically just get up and leave with all his beer! I felt kind of bad.

Then we all drive to KTV, which is Chinese karaoke. We rent out a room and I don’t remember very much of it because I was drunk. I remember screaming out a song at the top of my lungs and singing like there was no tomorrow. I vaguely remember getting lost in the kitchen, and I remember the beer was ridiculously expensive.. Technically I guess 12 quarts at that KTV was probably about $22US, but to give you an idea it was like paying $150US for a case of beer, comparatively speaking.

After someone found me in the kitchen of that building I think it was time to go, a bunch of people drove me home, I tried to say ‘I WANT TO TAKE YOU ALL OUT TO DINNER NEXT WEEK’ but apparently what I shouted out in the street was ‘I WANT TO TAKE YOU TO DINNER - I HAVE NO MONEY’ (according to our translator), and everyone outside burst out laughing and then I had to be escorted up the four flights of stairs to our apartment by like 5 guys.

I blacked out pretty quickly afterwards but this morning when I woke up I blew my nose and a ton of food came out, like noodles and mushrooms and shit which is just disgusting, and since that means I puked after blacking out I had to go find out exactly where in the apartment I threw up and fortunately it was on the floor. I now feel ill and went outside and bought a bunch of these wrap things that this dude makes and bought some water and I think I have a lunch to go to in 2 hours. (more…)