"Engine Driver"

i have a memory of old honolulu,
and by that i mean honolulu in 2000.
so ten years ago when starbucks was kinda
sorta new, i discovered that soy chai lattes
are crazy delicious. one of the very first
starbucks was in ward. it's now nothing
more than a shell of a failed whole foods
but once it had an Island Snow, and a whole
bunch of other crappy little surf shops.

i remember this day because the way
that the sun shines today reminds me of the
way the sun shined that afternoon. my purpose
for being at that location and who i met is a bit
foggy. however i do remember grabbing my soy chai
latte, sitting with whoever i was supposed to meet
there and then leaving about half an hour later.
(i have a feeling it might have been speech and debate
related, before Jenny and Chad had their showdown)
it was one of many of those odd social situations
where i'm either bored or feeling out of place.
on that afternoon i felt quite out of place so i
walked home.

they're glistening like diamonds, go out and find them

we were on a field trip in some apocalyptic part of future tense, subconsciously mapped part of Oahu. this is the beach we get to after a really long drive. we pass mountains that are so green, they can't be landmarks in Hawaii. always wet lawns, like someone over watered entire portions of the island. gigantic waves that crash toward the road, no beaches for miles and miles. then i am instantly transported to this beach. sometimes i am breathing under water at this beach, letting the tide take me, no fear. sometimes i'm here alone at night. and sometimes i am actually drowning, no fear.

this time as i walk to the waves, five footers like Sandy's, i'm not drowning or swimming, i'm stealing diamonds. there are diamonds all over the place, jewelry that people have left on the beach and in caves and trees so that they're not lost in
the waters. i'm walking around and just picking earings and loose diamonds, i'm stealing. there are people around me, and they see what i'm doing but they aren't outraged or bothered. i notice that one of the diamonds that i've stolen look exactly like one of my mother's earings. i place it back in my pile then i walk up the steps of my elementary school and deposit the diamonds somewhere. i'm in a lagoon with someone else and we're digging through the mud with our toes, picking up quarters.

telephone call, wake up and the logic of dream linear narrative is gone.
damnit what does this dream mean?
can't help but hear "Don't Blame Your Daughter" by the Cardigans play.

On Being Lost or Errant, Whatever Sounds Better

despite my veneer of "i don't give a fuck!",
i'm actually a type A personality.
i just threw up my hands and legs,
got drunk and dunked in artificial
bodies of water and laid prone to stare at stars at night.
i have lived next to graveyards.
at some point
in middle school and high school my plans were fucked with
and therefore my self discipline/self assuredness
in certain things disappeared.

if my mother and father would have invested some time
in raising me, i don't think i'd be so fucked up.
however they are not to blame, it's mostly me. at some
point in middle school i lost God too and now the
higher power is teaching me quite a lesson for
my infidelity/blasphemy.

and now i'm lost in my life.
will be graduated after this semester and have
no idea who to become. guess i can only be me,
but my current self is not doing so hot in the
"making enough money to be comfortable" dept.
working sixty plus hrs and making jack squat
for the rest of my life is in no way appealing.

here are the things that i want in life:

1. Time for myself
2. Time for family
3. Time for friends
4. Time for traveling

The other night my friends and i played a game
called, "Let's Pick Mirina's Future Out of a Hat"
and the most viable careers were:

High School English Teacher
Journalist
Journalist
"Dear Mirina" columnist
Personal Stylist
Megatron

Megatron would be an awesome thing to become,
cause Megatron is big and awesome and a good guy
but i don't know how much Megatron eats or sleeps
or if he even has a family. Plus if i devote
my life to becoming Megatron, i'd have to spend
light years doing interstellar traveling, leaving
me no time to have family/friends. and i am not a robot

my problem is finding the motivation or mojo
to put myself out there. i'm a shy recluse or like
one funny ass bitch said once, " the artist recluse".
however as stated before, i don't feel like being
a big ass loser for the rest of my life. do you know
how long that is? i'm pissed off cause i should have
been dead a long time ago, but nothing
ever goes to plan. and here i am
in some strange purgatory- esque existence.
i can't understand the purpose, greater lesson this pain
is to teach me. maybe my head was getting to big,
maybe i did something heinous in a past/present/future life
or maybe none of this matters or makes sense at all.

On Pain

The last time was at St. Francis (for myself)in
2008 for an exploded ovarian cyst. At the time of rupture,
sitting on a toilet of course, i thought it was the
beginning of my monthly cramps. A few moments later it
was obvious this pain was something different.
As i shuffled out the bathroom with this intense pain,
constantly throbbing, slowly curling me into an upright
fetal position or as i would like to call it-- the grandma
with osteoarthritis- i told my bf to take me to the ER.
Normally he'd be skeptical and annoyed but this time the
"i'm not fucking around" look on my face made him move
pretty quickly.

so i get to the ER and i have to fill out a bunch of paperwork
which sucks but i'm admitted almost immediately because the look
on my face said "i'm not fucking around". A pasty ass face,
dilated eyes and cold sweating cannot be faked. Almost
immediately my nurse asks me, "are you pregnant?" Answer "No."
"Are you sure you're not pregnant?" Emphatically, " No!"
Nurse: We'll take a pregnancy test anyway, I'm going to need
a urine sample." Wait, my head is starting to hurt
"We're gonna take a urine sample?"
She'd better be holding my hand.

So after an hour and a half and my urine sample indeed corroborates
my story that i am not in fact not pregnant, the next line of
query is "Have you been doing any drugs?" Answer, emphatically "NO!"
"Please, we need to know if you've taken anything...blah blah blah"
This is really starting to annoy me. This line of questioning
stops once my blood work comes in an hour later and it's obvious
that i'm just in a lot of pain, something that's causing my
white blood cells to be sky high.

Then comes the 20K question, "How much pain are you in?"
Answer, "UhaA lot of pain?"
Apparently i was to use my non- existent elocution abilities to
describe the pain or perhaps i was to lose a bit of
control and cry like a girl to explain this pain. i could do neither.
So then we played the number game, "On a scale of 1-10, 1 being the least
and 10 being the worst, how much pain are you in?"
Answer, " It's an eight". This number of course means nothing
to my nurse who's probably seen people with broken limbs come in
and say their pain is a five.

My invisible wounds cannot be quantified-- so much for empathy.

Solution: A liter of yellow dye that tastes like lemonade,
four MRI scans that show an explosion by the left ovary,
and lots of painkillers.

So i come to the point of this long ass blog and embarrassing
story to say that i fucking hate being in pain.
Pain is acute, sharp, blunt, dull, stupefying, blinding but mostly
isolating. There are no meters or stress tests to show
how much pain a person is in. Despite the cliché "I feel your pain"
we cannot feel each other's pain. Some people cannot even
begin to fathom or consider another person's feelings much
less "their pain". Platitudes are especially annoying when
one is in pain, "You'll get through this. We've all gone through
it. I know how you're feeling." There's nothing like
physical or mental pain to make you realize how truly lonely you are.

Mana

i ka olelo no ke ola
i ka olelo no ke make

in words there is life,
in words there is death.

once i asked you in a drunken stupor if you had great mana.
you paused as if you didn't know how to answer my question
and then you answered, "Yes, i could say i have a lot of mana."
this was one of many lies you gave life to.

bernadette mayer spoof

Whole Lotta Crap

I am sleeping ~~~
Awake!
There are cashiers ringing,
Supervisors singing or squealing
My hands are blurring lines of flour on countertops
And counting bills, making change and bagging
Things I will touch once or twice but will be eaten,
Like the Pink/ Green Tipped- Dragon fruit that became the Emperor and Empress of Japan’s Breakfast, or the yellow soft brie that will be
Eaten their lunch. No Panic, Go Organic!
Next to me is the best/worst coworker,
She/He likes to ring things real slowly,
Always making long conversations and ringing and packing
really slowly,
If only, She or He would ring a little bit faster,
I would be less stressed out when I come home to my Mom, my Dad and my two sisters, friends, barbecues and ice creams…. Yummy Tahitian Vanilla, SHIT!
You are now staring at me,
I’m very sorry,
I forgot to push that little button, and now there is a line,
That forms and winds all along the isles,
You, Sir or Ma’am I am very sorry, I did not take your change
Or credit card, and I blanked out in the middle
Of The Transaction, You asked me a question
Like “How are you” like you cared about my well being,
And I stared at you
stupid,
Like “I hate small talk” and “You’re being way too personal”
I glare at you,
Like “I hate going through these motions”.
Sometimes In these situations,
I wonder if I have Aspergers or some other kinda disorder,
I really dislike, FUCK! I hate looking people in the eye,
It makes me uncomfortable and gives me the willies,
Like Banjo Pluckin, Swamp Rat- Hillbillies, and now
You are ANGRY because
I’ve been smiling but not paying attention,
Like I should be licking your face while I ring up your groceries and be your surrogate
Mother, who came with you free but unwilling.
Would you like to sample some chocolate?
Too many words, and not enough substance is being
exchanged here
Money is really dirty,
My God, is it really only three thirty? I get off of work in only twelve hours. People here are afraid of Canola and Corn,
They think it will give them cancer,
They do not like when their fruits touch the register belt, but they
Pay in cashes EBT checks in Express there’s nothing
Express about the elderly.
Would you like to purchase a reusable plastic bag
to forget in your car home trunk backseat other car?
You ask “How do they treat you here?”
I say “Very well Sir or Maam.” We’re all about team member empowerment here.

April was Oppressive

there's a student housing facility adjacent to my place
with really rowdy college knumbskulls and titas.
the sprinklers are always on, making me feel
liberal guilt for gallons and gallons of water wasted.
six a.m. shoes get wet,
ten a.m shoes get wet. when do my shoes not get wet?

i want to call somebody sometimes to
tell him that somewhere a whale is missing his
swimming pool. i saw the cutest thing last night on my way home.
the usual Nic ticks were not sitting on benches smoking cheap cigs
at the student housing facility.

behind the limey foliage, were a boy and a girl. they smelled like
freshmen: thin, fresh faced, smiling. boy was teaching girl to skateboard.
it was almost surreal. the air was super chilly,
they were back lit by harsh lighting and they were laughing
really softly. lots of smiles, including mine.

Sometimes i Procrastinate

Definition Poem that was due for P. Schultz a month ago.

Home as Defined by a Nerd+ the American Heritage Dictionary

Home (hōm) n.
The Milky Way Galaxy,
Just the right spot, the sweet spot,
Home: Planet Earth, the Pacific Ocean, Hawaiian Islands, Oahu—
the gathering place.
Home is in my head, so I’m home no matter where I am.
I felt at home in NY, all the crabby cabbies and cops.
I felt at home in San Diego, gaslamps and comic cons.
I felt at home in LA, little Asiantowns and hobos,
Everywhere Golden Retrievers and mini marts.

1. Honolulu, HI
2. Varsity Ave.
3. Coolidge St.
4a. Glazers as a Sanctuary
4b. Seoul, my heart and soul, Queen of Hearts, My Mother Tongue Tied Motherland.

A Home can be where someone is cared for.
I made a home for my sisters,
my mother, my father can repose.
A place to return to, I would cook for you.
For Me a bed,
lazy sofa or tub tile floor lying.
The year I moved out was the year I surrendered and decided to thrive.
And now, I too am alive in my own place, my own space, my home.

hw assignments to face humanity

Da Numbah One

Some sit, Some stand while waiting for the #1
Across Kahala Mall,
two boys make a mad run for it, weaving in and
out of traffic. i learned long time ago
never run for it, it's not worth it. Monster Beats
on my headset blaring, Geto Boys, "Damn it Feels to be a Gangsta"
i see Fasi's Limo, but i don't run, "Cuz real gangsta ass niggaz don't run for shit,
Cuz real gangsta ass niggaz can't run fast."

TheBus pulls up and picks us up.
TheBus is half full not half empty (Not for Long).
We sit, Some chat, some contemplate, i reflect,
loose my space. My eyes wander to ads spotty,
City Bus placards MIA (i remember stealing in my youth)

THIS IS A PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT: THIS AD WILL NOT STOP CRACK USE,
WIFE ABUSE, ABORTION OR SMOKING--
THAT IS ALL, RETURN TO YOUR PATHETIC LIVES PEONS.

My eyes move down to scarred windows,
Large and Rustycrusty Roaches, crawl, critter.
Mucus, Food, Gum Wrapper, Gum, litter, in this vehicle we are
all headed in the same general direction.

i see mouths move but can't hear a sound.

Thank You, Noise Cancellation Headphones.
i choose the music and pollution, the soundtrack to this scene.
Besides, strangers are best seen and not heard, especially adults,
interrupting my desire to be alone.
Long is Waialae. TheBus is full by Tamura's and the bodies hum.
Chitchat cell phones texting Clockstars and College kids in repose,
We're resting against plastic,
scarred windows, Sacred Hearts McDonald's and St. Louis Cigarettes
Litter the street. Two Public Storage Wastelands,
Welcome to Your Future Home, on top of King,
a Humane Society,

theBus in decline, hug the curve of him--
Get off on King and University. Walk up to Glazers.

In Fifteen

my body parts hurt so i am typing today.
maybe i am just a little bit lazy.
Nicole asked me what my vice is.
it used to be an occasional smoke,
booze every weekend,
excessive amounts of social networking/
currently it seems that WoW has taken over my life again.
and if my mouth would utter those words, "it's just for three months"
then i'd be lying.

there's a particular line from Sia's song that is on repeat.
it's from "Some People Have Real Problems" and the song is
called "You Have Been Loved".

"Oh will you ever know
That the bitterness and anger left me long ago
Only sadness remains
And it will pass.."

it's the month; the body remembers. no, that's a particularly
false thing to say. i must confess, i am experiencing some
psychic pains. my kid would have been two this year, this month.
time is galleons, is a poster posted in Sam's cafe.
it's this fucking chilly ass weather, it's the rain, it's this place.
i have to do my poetry exercizes by monday. otherwise i've failed
P. Schultz and esp. myself. it's nice to have people who believe in you.
i cannot imagine absolute isolation/lonliness.
whenever i can't take it, i just dial up a friend and make a total emotive kid
out of myself.

Hello Somewhere on a Higher Plane

We were in Banana Republic, a dystopic version of course,
looking for a new trilby or fedora for Chad. There lacked
a sense of urgency, and the quest was not colored by
our usual masochistic tendencies.
i sifted through a stack of brown hats on a white case display, finding nothing
that would match Chad. Channing and Emily also came up empty handed.

Our best guess was to get some coffee to salve the disappointing hat search.
This is where it gets good,
Channing went on the offensive and Emily the defensive.
Emily was yowling about the lack of quality, selection
and style in the hats and Chan made a comment about her.
Something like,
"Do you actually do Yoga or do you just like to wear yoga gear?"
To which Em responded in a low whine,
"Looking for a hat for Chad is like looking for my Yoga Pussy...."
In unison Chad, Chan and Em said, "It's non existent."
And we started cracking up,
and couldn't stop laughing.

time oh time, give me time

feeling blue over "funemployment"
more like "left to own devices"
idle hands will tear at my body
reading "loneliness as a way of life" and it explains all the peter pans
i've been attracting.

Samuel L Jackson in Chinatown

Channing, Samuel L. Jackson remembers us....
i cant remember how long ago the goon meet was.
did you know that he was a vietnam vet?
his wife died of breast cancer and he's 52 yrs old.

ironic things said tonight,
"this has been real"
"indubitably"

i am missing a certain somebody immensely at this moment.
one could say it's the slowwwwwww coals of love.
he lit the fire, kindled the wood and tended to it when it was necessary.
Chad was told that this man was the only man i feel so strongly
about atm that i would slap Him in the face if need be.
whether we are near or far it's the same. i love Him the same
and this is freedom. i will never love another person at the cost
of me.

He Ate from My Plate

our first encounter,
i ate from His bowl a
white porcelain moon half
served with spaghetti not very well
made or fashioned because
we were too busy pointing out constellations.
He stopped time for me.
rooms to be introduced,
photographs to be explained.
a test, for sure, he walked around; without a shirt
He traced his tattoo, poke poke hip to back.
Moo Oleo: Regeneration, Growth and Reality;
i brought to him my brightest stars in return.

He lined a plate with olive oil,
salt and pepper to taste
for some meat.
Cosmos made with his pointer and middle finger--
i turned away in embarrassment.
He wouldn't eat with me,
and he didn't dare touch me.
Clever seduction.

Our second encounter,
He ate from my plate,
the onolicious poi and meat i had left half
eaten and only because i offered these scraps to him.
fire water in warm bellies,
chili oil on well seasoned lamb.
he offered these things to me,
and i took it willingly.

it wasn't in the kiss,
it wasn't his material but it was in the first bite.
Canines into oatmeal chocolate cookie,
He is something to be felt not understood.
He had approached me
with reverence, looking for forgiveness
and i gave it to him we both knowing that i do not forgive
and i do not give my time so freely.

will continue this later when i have attention span...

IRREGULAR CHOICE HONOLULU

strangers have been fucking up my life
so i seek solitude but i wont get it until monday.
here's a list of things that i've discovered in
the past week or so in my times of solitude:

1. i hate routines but routinely seek the comfort of rituals and habits.
2. nobody is "normal" and if you say you are, you are a fucking liar.
3. Alice Smith is excellent.
4. i am anti- hype but i shouldn't have been so anti- Audrey Kawasaki.
5. your worst fears will come true; so somehow i have to learn how to let go.
6. kissing boys is lots of fun, this makes me a makeout slut.

Fail Marathons

here i am again. this is where it all began many, many years ago
as Sully Yu. oops! i've uncovered myself.

i can't be anything i'm not.
i am a writer; i am a poet, a writer of fictions and a college educated
person as denoted by the use of the semi- colon (<3 Vonnegut).
i cannot paint you something beautiful, although my doodles are expressive.
my singing is B+ at best and B- at worst.
my cooking is fucking awesome and i am your best friend.
watch your ass in Azeroth!

tonight:
there were firefighters and ER techs in my kitchen living room.
dad was stressed out and i was afraid he was having a heart attack
so off to the ER we go. stress will get to ya. his lungs are fine although
he's a heavy smoker. lucky bastard.

i've never seen my father's chest so heavy,
legends say he cried when he had to leave me in Seoul
to immigrate to the States. a few years ago
he said he couldn't live through the infidelity.
he too cannot live a half a life.
half on land, half at sea, he's weathered.

tonight
he said
he couldn't handle it anymore and that he cannot take my money.
it was pride that came before the fall!
then again it's pride that keeps the shirts on.
i will tell you what it's like to hold your father and tell him
you need him to be alive.