The Buddha Returns

In my dream it was a rainy day… Everywhere.
Not that we had noticed in San Francisco, it was often times grey this time of year, but the clouds covered everything.
I was outside, on a corner somewhere in the mission, when a beam of light broke through the clouds. It was like the curtains on a lazy Sunday morning. Behind the clouds was Buddha, giant and radiating light through the cracks in the clouds. He’s legs were crossed and he had the smile on his face of someone who is ultimately content, like he just eaten the perfect size burrito (not too much, not too little).
He was visible to everyone, everywhere, and when he spoke everyone could understand.
“Uh, hi… Hey, I don’t want to trouble you guys. I just wanted to thank you for all the offerings you’ve left for me, but I just really felt that I should let you know I don’t really like rice. Again, thanks, but I’ve just never liked it all that much. The fruit and stuff is good, and you know whatever.. I’m not trying to be picky, I’ve just never really cared for the stuff. I mean, if you have to leave rice, would it kill you to cook it first or something. Perhaps some seasoning. Butter, soy sauce, salt or something. Okay, so yeah, again thanks, but I’ve got more than enough rice.”
After some 2500 years, the Buddha had returned and his only godly words where about statues and rice. Needless to say, the result was mixed.
It sort of felt like the split between Judaism and Christianity, there were the Reformist Buddhists who would leave delicious treats such as Nestle Crunch bars and Pumpkin Ice Cream. And there where the ultra orthodox who felt this apparition was a hoax, perhaps a conspiracy orchestrated by the Atkins Center. Not only did they still leave rice at the foot of statues, but it was not uncommon to see an entire Buddha statue made of rice in the home of an ultra-orthodox Buddhist.
As for the rest of us, the world seemed unchanged after the return of Buddha. There were people like me who simply made a mental note not to bring any rice if I was going to a Buddhist temple and thought nothing else of it.
Wars still happened, diseases came and went, we were still at the height of progress or at the low point of civilization, depending on whom you asked.
Oddly enough, the return of Buddha had no effect at all on the world’s sales of rice. For every person not buying rice, there was someone buying twice as much. For every farm that decided to grow one less acre of rice crop, there was another farmer increasing his rice growing.
In the end, everything was just as well balanced as before.

Sexy Party

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

So last year I wrote about an Absinthe party I attended here in the city that had a decent amount of public sex going on. It wasn’t a sex party, it was just an underground party that sort of evolved into something a little heavy.

I had been back to the venue for several parties since then, but they remained primarily absinthe related with no signs of sex.

Last week I went to this same venue for my first fetish party. I have somehow gotten on a little more exclusive list where I can attend all of these underground parties for free, and often times get a good deal of free Absinthe in the process. I don’t know how I got on this list, I’m the biggest fucking square at most of these parties. I just know a bit about absinthe and stuff.

Anyway, I’m not into the leather and spandex fetish scene, but I felt obligated to go to one of these parties, at least once. It was a fun experience and it’s pretty much true that anyone can get laid at one of these parties, as long as your not picky.

Standing in line you might be passed by a woman on all fours being walked by her dom. Or maybe while sitting down and enjoying your drink, you’ll get into a chat with a co-worker that you bumped into. She tries a sip of your drink and asks a few questions about the fax machine at work seemingly oblivious to the fact that her skirt is hiked up and her date for the evening has her bent over and is smacking her ass. The rest of the room notices, it’s one of those sounds… Wherever you are in the room, you hear that “smack” sound and you know exactly what’s happening. A crowd forms and we are still casually conversing, “Sometimes you have to hit 9 to get the outside line-OW! but usually you just have to send the send transmission button.”

“Make her scream my name” Cat the bartender says, then she leans over to me and says “I love that trick.”

smack… smack… smack- “CAAAAT!”

I heard some of the greatest quotes while at this shindig (a few of the actual quotes are on the sketch). A few of the folks at the party where over fifty, you could say that I saw some pretty unattractive stuff, but when your in this environment you don’t really tend judge people. It’s their world, you have just stepped into it, so I didn’t really find myself imposing my rules of beauty or morality on anyone there.

The strange thing is, nothing there was that shocking. People were hung from crosses and spanked or humiliated. There where lots of exposed body parts. I guess sex was implied, and/or occurring in some places. But the whole thing to me was just comedic. I mean you see a guy in a leather vest, a huge black mustache, and those ridiculous shiny police officer hats and you can’t help but laugh. Really, it’s like somebody came up with the looks 40 years ago, and it’s never really occurred to most folks that styles and fetishes change. That stuff might have been shocking then, but I can’t imagine that it hasn’t changed in all these years.

For me at least, it’s far more exciting to see a couple ordinary people going at it in near the absinthe bar then a couple of costumed people going to such extreme measures to give the appearance of kinkiness. What it comes down to, is that I obviously don’t get it. I’m not saying what I think is “hot” is better than other peoples views. I just can’t get the appeal of the “Fetish” scene… and the Cure does not make me want to fuck.

I’m also assuming that this was a milder event than others, I’m not looking to go to some huge (and well publicized) fetish ball, I like ’em underground and grimy, so maybe I’ll check out another one and tell you what I think.

The Weather is Karen’s Arm

Monday, March 13, 2006

Friday night I was walking to my birthday party at Bender’s in the rain. Luckily I had grabbed my umbrella before I left the house, in case it started raining on my walk back home.

The rain started suddenly and seemed to be a surprise to most folks out on the street.
At the time, I was on the phone with my friend Karen, who was in her car 10 blocks north of me on Mission ST.
“I have to go.” she said suddenly, then adding “It’s hailing right now.”
I hung up the phone and walked up to the nearest stranger, a man in his forties with an umbrella identical to mine.
“Shity weather, isn’t it?” I asked him.
“Yep.” He replied.
“At least it isn’t hailing though.” Before he could reply a hailstorm burst out all around us.
I walked away in the storm, but I caught a look at his puzzled face before I left. That was priceless.

Thanks Karen, it’s what I’ve always wanted.

The Oldboy DVD is nice too.

I am hip hop

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

I made a coffee stop this morning, mostly because I needed change for the bus.

I stopped by starbucks and ordered a medium cappuccino.
Then I headed over to the Barista and wait. He called a couple of drinks and eventually called “Venti cap for (mumble mumble)”… He looked around a bit then repeated “Venti Cap For (mumble mumble)!”.
I stepped up and said, “My name is Doc, but the lady didn’t ask for my name, I think this might be my drink though”. He agreed, and I took off barely catching the bus.
Later I was staring at the cup and realized there was a name written on it, it’s what the Barista was saying that I couldn’t understand. The name on the cup was “Hip Hop”.
Hip Hop? WTFS?