Monday, April 13, 2009

People: Niki Gomez

I'm very interested in how people make themselves. I have found myself reading resumes and bios of people who do things that I am interested in. Maybe something will come of this interest. For now, here is the webpage of someone I found interesting recently. Check it.

Niki Gomez - http://www.nikigomez.com/Niki_GOMEZ_CV.pdf

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Who is he? Who is Jack?

This weekend his mind abandoned his body. Heaped onto a twin sized mattress, his body laid heavily between winter sheets that were too warm for the spring weather. Hibernation manifested itself in human form as a result of heavy late night consumption of calories, fat, and sodium. The effects of this diet were apparent, the mechanical quality of breathing, the preservative inspired positioning of the limbs, and distant clicks emanating from the bowels were unnatural and slightly unnerving.

10 hours of bed rest. No movement. No interaction. A puzzle prevented the mind from returning to its normal state. A suit needed to be purchased. Needless to say, dress shoes needed to be worn in order to evaluate the aesthetic appeal of this acquisition. However, dress shoes would prevent the employment of simple kicks. The lack of kicks would reduce the feeling of hip and the feeling of hop. The reduction of energy would lead to a less fulfilling day and there certainly couldn't be any break dancing in dress shoes. Finally, shorts and a t-shirt for running should have started the day. Only 20 minutes are necessary to complete the circuit, to increase health, to feel great. To make the body feel alive. However, the mind resisted exercise. The mind resisted dress shoes and slacks. The body retreated to a hibernating state. 12 hours dissolved between the winter sheets of the mattress.

Zubar. Zubar. Greenville Ave. He walks to the bouncer. "I want to be a regular here. This is my favorite place. Hi, I'm Jack. What's your name?"

The bouncer replied , "Tibbits."

"Tid-bits?"

"Tibbits", he repeated. This time more slowly. It was clear from his expression that he did not enjoy repeating himself.

"Tibbits, its nice to meet you. I love your bar."

Tibbits looked blankly at the young man standing in front of him. He looked like a child, but his ID indicated that he was at least a few years older. With a slight twist of his neck, Tibbits motioned the young man to enter - and so he did without hesitation.

Zubar was one of many bars along the lower strip of Greenville Ave. It's facade was clearly hip, though its most basic elements could be found in a simple garden. A forest green wrought iron arch with ivy wrapping around it to give it an organic feeling. A small patio with cushioned wooden benches and tables were illuminated by warm friendly lights. The source of which remains unclear. The plush Hotel Capri and the more raw Garage .

Jack entered the bar from the patio. A DJ booth on the ground level was only a few feet to his left. There were people dancing in an open space in the front of the bar. Small U shaped booths lined the walls on the left and an unadorned bar was ready to take his order on the right.

"One bud light please." The bartender fished the brew from a cooler behind the counter and opened the bottle with professional precision.

"$4.50 please"

That is too much Jack thought to himself, handing the bartender $10. He wanted to give a good tip, he took his change and left a $1. Under his breath, "I could have bought a pack before I came...."
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