Sardines.

*****
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Amica Paige.

*****

If you open a can of sardines, there are mothers and children there. But the phallic man is hungry and loves his fish and game. He forces his way through fame with his arms and jeans, and devours elephants and whales in his suit and tie. He sheds blood, except his, and lusts for the rush of adrenaline. His currency are folks and beasts dispensable and meek as fish. He craves the flesh of the young and the female, but her mind and heart are inseparable from her hips and much stronger than he could ever be—yet, she has suffered greatly. For if you look long enough in this ravaged land, half the children are men, and the other half—most of them are hunted, along with the unicorns and dolphins. Will the boys heed a mother’s call or only be sons to their Father? We wish all sons of earth would hear the cries of their daughters. But unlike dogs, most men are mere testosterones and phalli. Worse than the swine they savor, their savage hands slaughter lambs and bleed the land for glory. Still, we’d like to believe that the womb is later joined by her true lovers and reunited with her real sons and daughters at the sea beyond this. For now, she continues to fight for the fate of earth and weep for the rape of it.

Decrepitate.

Decrepitate. Define it, you say, being a person of youth. Well, may I say that I've trodden the sands of time, marching through my childhood years-hopping, skipping, dashing, involving some fists at times, sometimes sobbing...all the way to manhood, braving its tides, to taste and savor all of life's nectars, including matters of the heart, which can prick one's soul with a thousand needles, and that's just for starters, an endless appetizer, if you will. Because should you delve into the heart's affairs more deeply, you'd soon find out that the heart has swords for teeth; it cuts and grinds as sharply as it exalts in exceeding and inexplicable ways one can hardly believe sometimes. And if you fear a thing called love, as others may call it, which I rather refer to by its very act—of care, compassion, or affection—you might not want to go there, that is if you expect your beneficiaries to reciprocate all that you extend. But you might miss something so simple, yet so profoundly significant at once, should you skip over it.

I, however, am in my third act, traipsing on this stage called life. I've seen a thousand moons and witnessed stars shine and recede into oblivion, if not first immediately ushered out by the depths of time, which spares no one, like stars that merely fizzle right after birth. I've climbed the highest peaks, each attempt maims so severely at times, one falls in the deepest valleys with such dismemberments unheard of in still callow, incubated minds, and you ask me to define decrepitate. I've bathed in the sun's radiance and roasted in it all the same; its luminance stings, like salt to a worm in a slow burn. If I crackle when I roast in fire, I can't possibly hear the sound of my anguish, as I languish inside, can I? So, you tell me—do I crackle and pop when you see me roast in fire? I've seen and heard of unnumbered souls, both young and old, suffer unspeakable torment. Deprived of any means of protection, they are powerless, and their lives are all they have until their blood is shed by savages. By the way, did you see it too—the endangered species on the news last week? The harmless rhinos do naught but roam the fields in peace, unsuspecting of predators, and still, they're poached and bled to death for their quaint horns. Such horror reminds me of the pink dolphins and human nature, and makes me wonder which animal is the real beast on earth.

You ask a decrepit man to define 'decrepitate'. I say, stop searching too hard for meaning in mere words. Look and observe around you instead. Perhaps you'd discover something, if there be any road worth traversing, a wave worth riding, or a meaning to derive from life at all. Then tell me what you find. Hear me now, go on. Live.

It was my fault

by amica paige



*2011 Writer's Digest November Pad Chapbook Challenge - Day 10
Prompt was to write something from a totally different angle.
This examines the thoughts that might assail a person victimized as a child by sexual abuse.

How did I get there?
I just went for a ride.
Mother okayed it,
she worked late on most nights.
Coach was always so kind,
Dad was nowhere in sight.


How did I get there?
I just went for a ride.
He was being so nice
for nearly no price.
Except for the dark times
when he did me much harm.


But I just could not say things
that would ruin him, dear.
I've had to consider
the more critical things.
Should be easy to do that,
if I swallow my pride.


Tried to push them away
from the back of my mind.
Yet the nightmares resurfaced,
as my dreams dissipated.
I've grown from a mere boy,
fed with guilt, shame, and pride.


I've tried to move on with
the rest of my life.
Yet the nightmares continue,
as my dreams disappear.
I try to forget it,
but mother sinks in her grief.


How did I get there?—
I still ask myself this.
Why should anyone fault him?—
no one fed me those fears.
It must have been me,
I must have been sick.

Killing Unicorns is killing dolphins is killing innocent lives

Killing gentle dolphins for bait is just like slaughtering horses and feeding them to pigs to fatten them up for our consumption. It's just so WRONG. These fishermen don't think about the damage they are causing to the region's ecosystem. Whatever happened to the plain old cast-your-net to catch the fish that you massively consume. Greed and ignorance surely go hand in hand. And these twits commit this evil act because nobody's stopping them. I hope that the smarter people in that region step up immediately to stop this heinous crime. Or does the government there find catfish extremely irresistible too?—I don't even want to know. It would also be horrible to imagine what bait the twits will resort to next should they ever run out of the unsuspecting creatures in the future. Click on the following image released by the INPA for the full story from the Associated Press.

Teen Spirit?

Makes me wonder how a teen could get to a point where he likens a child to a piece of burger, or how another could be so curious about how it’s like to take a child's life. At what point did sanity cross over the threshold to insanity in their minds? What happened to these adolescents’ psyches, or consciences?

Happy-Go-Lucky

For one to still manage to cheerily chant “Ding-dong, dilly-dilly, da-da, hu-hu” as a chiropractor rearranges your bones is positively ever so slightly happier than the rest of us sordid creatures going about our seemingly mundane lives. Or you’re just a silly grown-up. But for this 30-year-old elementary school teacher, her days are as easy as flapping her arms with a bunch of bird masks donning children, raucously squawking like birds, and pretending to fly. And this lady “trampolines”.

“Happy-Go-Lucky” is a curious and surprisingly engaging ride with a perpetually happy lady who consciously takes on her days with a bowl of cherries. Seriously, the lady wears little yellow bird earrings in some scenes. At first, you might doubt Poppy’s integrity and take her for a naïve nutcase who giggles incessantly through her jolly whims and over her own remarks. Unlike most of who she encounters, she finds her jokes and most things in life funny and doesn’t hesitate to show her gaiety in any situation.

The opening scene immediately paints Poppy’s character, superbly played by Sally Hawkins. You see her easygoing face ride her bike through town, browse through a book store, and attempt a repartee with a morose man behind the register whose facial expression clearly says that he can’t be bothered unless you’re purchasing something. After repeatedly failing to stir any type of response from him at all, she finally heads for the exit door chuckling and muttering still to the man what he clearly doesn’t care for, to be happy. Yet, she shows neither the slightest sign of humiliation nor irritation of the man’s blatant rudeness. Next, she finds her bicycle stolen. But when open-jawed with surprise, she merely musters a slight reaction of grief over not having had a chance to say goodbye to her beloved two-cycle. And as you follow her around, you want to shake, smack, or strangle her relentlessly blithe and bubbly persona for her light, almost feeble, approach on things, unless you have had a drink or two with her and her more normal, flat-mate, Zoe, coolly played by Alexis Zegerman.

Then, something bizarre happens. In an indeterminate turn of events and as if the earliest scenes have all been a pretense to mislead you entirely, Poppy suddenly grows on you. You’re baited, hooked, and reeled in, though oddly. The more time you spend with this chirpy chic, the more disconcertingly endearing she becomes as you get to know her. Actually, you can blame this uneasy change of heart on the bicycle thief, whoever he was. Better yet, blame it on the director’s cunning for laying the plot right were he did.

Now that Poppy’s without her bicycle, she decides to take driving lessons. This is where the conflict starts and where the story really begins. Without this particular incident, the film would be nothing more than just a bland sequence of the tedium of life even for the most optimistic person, which certainly wouldn’t appeal very much to us, voyeurs, though Poppy’s outfits and shoes are certainly cool enough to feast on.

Scott, the relentlessly glum and grumpy driving instructor, is a walking, breathing epitome of anger and intolerance trapped in a middle-aged man’s body dressed in an 80’s garb and all repressed in a continuously ticking time bomb of massive hatred that could blow any moment at the slightest provocation. And it does one sunny day, when Scott gets aroused with rage over Poppy’s new beau. Prior this finale, he takes the ever so jovial teacher through her driving sessions a few Saturdays, during which Poppy definitely gets more than just driving lessons, but also an earful or two of Scott’s long list of grievances and lifelong neuroses about people, the world, Poppy’s boots, and ultimately, her character as he deems it.

Though Poppy’s unswerving cheerfulness could be quite irksome and seem unbearably shallow and surreal to a more cynical, critical, expectant, and impatient audience, serious moments become more discernable, poignant, and revealing against the kind of inexhaustible optimism like Poppy’s. Apparently, the more she smiles her way through life, the bleaker the opposing characters around her seem to be. It’s the classic light and dark juxtaposition. And yet, you see her deeper aspects. Her depth, resilience, and sincere compassion for people lying just underneath her smiley skin only get clearer.

Simultaneously subtle and sublime, this is one of the best films I’ve seen thus far. It is witty, well paced, down-to-earth, authentic, and an enormously effective experiment on the highest forms of human emotions—love, compassion, anger, and hatred—that move us and affect the way we interact with each other, and on whether or not we learn from our experiences, good or bad. As Zoe simply put, “Well, you make your own luck in life, don’t you?” Surely, it’s the choices we make that make us who we are. But Mike Leigh isn’t preachy about life matters, although one of the main characters in the film most certainly is. Instead, Leigh shows us by presenting these personalities, their situations, and surrounding elements in a light and natural way, though the effect is ironically forceful, and leaves us to our own conclusions. He offers us twisted ironies. But then, we are left contemplating if our perspectives are the ones twisted. Don’t get fooled by Poppy’s and the others’ seemingly one-dimensional, stereotypical characters, because there’s more angles to them than what Leigh would have you perceive initially.

Though this film might not stop you from cursing and spitting at the most obnoxious person next to you, it might make you want to take a breather before you lash out like Scott under provocation. Eddie Marsan’s powerful portrayal of the immensely disturbed and demented man Scott, reminds us about the ugly wretchedness that anger and intolerance can turn a person into. The added bonus of watching this film is that it can make for a very inexpensive therapy, if you’re willing to face the threatening truth about life, which is sometimes thorn-ridden, unfortunately. But Poppy chooses to see and smell the roses, without ignoring her wounds. Eventually, she encounters love without desperately seeking it. And that is something beautiful and inspiring. If we could only all get to a mindset like Poppy’s and drift through life with her optimism and not “miss the boat completely...”

If you’re looking for a formulated Hollywood box-office movie full of bang served in a huge bubble of empty laughter, loud action, exaggerated drama, and excessive sex that pervades today’s movies and TV shows, this is definitely the wrong flick for your DVD collection. Otherwise, your movie collection just wouldn’t be right without this smart film. And for additional enlightenment by the director, Mike Leigh, and the main casts, Sally Hawkins (Poppy), Alexis Zegerman (Zoe), and Eddie Marsan (Scott), feast on Happy-Go-Lucky’s Bonus Features.

Hilarity highlights:
The Flamenco Teacher’s outburst: “Your boyfriend…betrays you with a 22 yr. old bitch. You want to kill him. You want to cut off his balls. He’s such a bastard. I hate him!”
Scott’s “En-ra-ha” chant
Scott’s first outburst: “Poppy! Let’s go! We’re on a bend! Now, let’s go!”
Scott’s 2nd outburst: “En-ra-ha!!!”

Baffling Disparity: Hunger and Obesity

Photos from dailykos.com

"This photograph, also taken in Sudan, won the 1994 Pulitzer Prize for South African photographer Kevin Carter, who subsequently committed suicide.", and

"A well nourished Sudanese man steals maize from a starving child during a food distribution at the Medecins Sans Frontieres feeding centre in Ajiep, southern Sudan. by Tom Stoddart."

Meanwhile, according to bettertimes.cc,

"The incidence of childhood obesity is rapidly rising throughout the world. The obesity epidemic is especially evident in industrialized nations where many people live sedentary lives and eat more convenience foods, which are typically high in calories and low in nutritional value. In just two decades, the prevalence of overweight doubled for U.S. children ages 6 to 11 — and tripled for American teenagers. The annual National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that about one-third of U.S. children are overweight or at risk of becoming overweight. In total, about 25 million U.S. children and adolescents are overweight or nearly overweight."

Starvation, apathy, greed, and gluttony at its worst. I'm at a loss for words.

Sweet Security

Ah, the sweet assurances of Social Security. Hope you’ve been receiving your periodical Social Security statements too. SS is simply splendid.

Here’s a glimpse of the heart of its splendor.
(An excerpt from the Social Security statement, with emphasis added in italics)

You and your family may be eligible for valuable benefits:

When you die, your family may be eligible
To receive survivors benefits.

Social Security may help you if you become
disabled—even at a young age.

A young person who has worked and paid
Social Security taxes in as few as two years
can be eligible for disability benefits.

Social Security credits you earn move with you
from job to job throughout your career.

Isn’t it just great—that it (the credit) stays with you throughout your working life, or basically until you’re just about ready to hit the sack, literally and permanently. Oh, but you’ve been working out at the gym, so being strong and healthy will allow you to enjoy the fruits of your labor. And your family may benefit too. But only when you’re dead. However, if you become disabled now, you may get assistance, even if you’re young. Now, why do I feel like this is starting to sound more and more sinister than beneficial… Maybe, it’s just my neurosis.

I'm Asian and Michelle Obama's Vogue-ing, but where are the Whites?

As the economy continues to crumble and people receive pink slips at their jobs, fashionistas only continue to strut their style ever so fiercely. And speaking of vouge-ing, the big talk of town is Michelle Obama's Voque cover. Which is pretty harmless per se. Don't get me wrong, please : I love clothes. But I just think it a pretty awkward time (to put it in mildly) to be overtly fashion focus (unless you're in the business of selling clothes to keep yourself and others employed, why not?) when most people are worried about how to cover their next month's rent. (By the way, did you hear that stamps are going up two more cents by May? While this piece of info may be inconsequential for you, not to affect you in any way at all, it may be bothersome to others who still prefer snail mail, and just when gas prices are creeping up again too. I just wonder how long it will take for New York to follow suit and hike its toll from the $8 current rate while the other costs of commuting, such as the subway, light rail, and tolls only continue to rise, in case you haven't noticed.)

While a first lady ought to present herself well in all aspects, and indeed in her appearance, it is perhaps more sensible for a person of high regard to apply tact...Esp. during this economic crisis. Show America that she commiserates with her people and is with them in spirit at all times. One could hardly show that kind of empathy when one of the first things on her agenda is to grace the cover of a style magazine. Again, I don't mean to offend, as I also occasionally flip through the pages of fashion mags. It's just that given our nation's economic condition, it seems so ungraceful, so insensitive, so wrong for the first lady to be so vocally candid about her fashion style during these difficult times in our nation, if I may be so vocally candid about her candidness. Besides, doesn't one's style exude anyway, without the need for an announcement? Leave all the unnecessary tooting to Hollywood. For when you zoom out and see the little things under you in light of the bigger picture, the frills just seem so pointless against our most basic needs... Like food, shelter, employment. (By the way, I had just picked up a nice pair of black, strappy, spring/summer platform sandals for $14.99. Yes, I did and am quite happy about it, as it is very rare for me to find nice and comfy sandals that fit well. And I'm not the first lady.) All that aside, something else struck me in the Michelle Obama interview. Here's an excerpt from AOL's news headline:

On entertaining in the White House: "We want entertaining in the White House to feel like America, that we are reminded of all the many facets of our culture. The Latino community, the Asian-American community, the African-American community.…Hip-hop, spoken word—we want to bring the youth in, for them to hear their voices in this."

Where is the mention of the White community? (By the way, I'm Asian.) I guess I have to buy the magazine to see if it follows the ellipsis...maybe between the African-American community and Hip-hop.? Hey, be nice. Again, I just noticed, and it's quite obvious unless some serious typo was committed.

Vote for Obama/Biden or McCain/Palin?...I'd rather wake up George Carlin from the dead and have a Happy Halloween.

Can you believe this? No wonder why George Carlin gave up voting. Our savings have literally disappeared right before our eyes. It's absolutely maddening and utterly revolting. Forget about who, what part, rather, of the ugly monster would you choose? Its heads or tails? Either choice(party) is insanity, with each of them spouting mouthfuls of principles that are nothing more than ignorant generalizations and unrealistic ideals about national security, retirement, health care, environment, and education. Every one of these politicians plays the blame game and spews out bloated promises, but none of them has ever taken the responsibility to say, "I'm part of the problem--me and my fat salary and undeserved benefits and bonuses while I busy myself exchanging fancy, empty words with other crooks like me", or as in the Clinton case, "...while I get busy receiving or being served..." Haven't the foulest beasts of earth always operated on the same premise of outrageous ideals and constant misinformation. These scums play with peoples' emotions by consistently using the plight of whites or blacks or low-income or homeowners or immigrants. Where is the sincere concern just for people, period. Where is the concern for their hard-earned livelihood? What about the ones who are faceless and voiceless? What about the young family of three who conscientiously work together to save, but still can't afford to purchase a home, since rent, gas, and every other expense that constitutes the monthly bills has gone up? Is there assistance available out there for the poor of the middle class? Thank Godness for a family who doesn't have cable. If not politics, it's mostly reality shows or ludicrous extravagance being touted on TV anyway. Plus doing away with cable saves a bit of money, but all for naked uncle sam to also squander. Just as the emperor really had no clothes on...uncle sam is naked too you know. And yet, he does wear nice clothes, and is driven around in fancy cars, and have his fine dining in swank hotels, and is coddled by both celebrities and other devious big shots, as they all bask in the same posh lifestyles.

Yet uncle sam isn't actually naked, neither are his celebrity sponsors. We might be the ones. Oh, this is all so confusing. But thank God McDonald's still offers its dollar menu... A family could dine out and have a their meal for $3 each--sweet tea, burger or 4 pc. nuggets, and 99-cent fries while uncle sam and his cronies have to pay more for their dinners. So McCain promises us $5000 for our health care... Regardless, some family should do okay. They always buy the $1.29 wheat bread, whatever Calcium-fortified juice is on sale for no more than $1.99, and half-priced day-old salad and rolls. They try to keep on top of these things via a regular review of store circulars for sales... It's the least a simple, sensible family can do while uncle sam and his parties are hard at work for our nation's welfare...

My point is what about stopping the rubbish talk and squarely acknowledging the government ills, fairly managing it with realistic solutions to problems, and neither spoiling people nor taking away their livelihood. Absurd hopes, huh? Maybe never in this lifetime.

Here's the problem: the blatant abuse of funds period. The funds get misspent and/or pilfered by greedy scums. In accounting, you were trained to trace the last missing penny to account for every item related to a company's operations: assets against liabilities, revenue versus costs, income against net loss, even petty cash. And that same process can also be applied to every expense a family incurs by matching receipts against the bank statements to monitor errors. The funds are there. But they remain to be uncovered for as long as corruption in the government and its people remain.

I'm tired of all the(ir) politicking. I'm left jaded and cynical I may just do a Carlin and not vote. But what would I tell my son who is learning to tune in even to the student council speeches? I am terribly conflicted. I'll have to think more about it, think it over on Halloween... Perhaps it is enough to make for a huge Halloween scare.