Memoir Outtake: Never Underestimate the Healing Power of a Super Soaker

Mariana and I sipped stiff cuba libres in our parents’ backyard. We stood beneath the patio roof as my brother-in-law, Rick, and my dad prepared the grill with lighter fluid and charcoal. The first drink I slurped down produced an immediate giddying effect. I’d slept for shit the night before which is why I thirsted for that caffeine-liquor kick. At some point, while we flashed the gab, Rick mentioned these Super Soakers he had in their car trunk. He bought them to shoot around with his four-year old nephew. He typically left the water guns in their garage but he figured I might want to have a showdown with him on a hot, summer afternoon in Fremont.

I said hell yeah.

Before long, Rick stepped into the backyard through the living room’s sliding screen door holding both Super Soakers. He looked like a Mexican Terminator with those big guns in hand, small backpacks containing water slung around his shoulder. Rick belonged at a pool party in Tijuana with that beer gut and white sun cap of his. He handed me one of the water guns.

“You can make it shoot like a shotgun if you pull back on it like this,” Rick said, pumping the handle on the gun barrel, then pointing it at the patch of lawn beside us. He pulled the plastic lever at the top of the gun. It shot a gorgeous gob of water.

“Whoa, cool!” I said, pumping the gun’s handle. I pointed it at the side of the house, a few feet away. I pulled back the lever and chortled with mischievous glee when I saw the splatter of water on the wall. Then I yelped as I felt a cold wet sensation on my side. I peered down at my shirt, saw a wet spot, then looked at Rick. He was grinning boyishly. His water gun was pointed at me. He hit me with another stream of water.

“Aaaaaaaahhh!” I screamed, raising my gun to shoot him in the face.

It was on!

We stood our ground, frantically pumping the handle on our guns while we soaked each other, filling the backyard with our screams and laughter. I retreated back into the lawn, bobbing behind one of the wooden beams that supported the patio roof. Rick rushed over in my direction, ducking and scurrying around a small table while shooting in my direction. I quickly pumped the gun a few times and ran over at him, stepping into his line of H2O-fire in order to blast him, point blank, with a shotgun blast to his chest. He groaned dramatically.

Rick scampered off, disappearing in the side alley on his way toward the front lawn. I dropped my gun, slung off the backpack, and managed to wrench off my soaking-wet T-shirt.

“Your ass is mine, Hernandez!” I roared, running out into the front yard. He was nowhere in sight. I crept along the side of the house, pointing my gun toward the driveway.

“You can’t hide for long, you cock fag!” I shouted. (Back then, it was one of our favorite inappropriate insults; it was the only time I used that “f” word—sober that is. In Life Outside Rick-land, I immediately dislike anyone who utters that word.)

He stepped out and into my line of water-fire. We retreated back to Mariana’s car, parked in the driveway. We blasted it out, ducking, bobbing around the car, roaring insults that could be heard throughout the residential street (mostly me), shooting rainbows of water over the car until we ran out of ammo. Rick fled, giggling on his way to the backyard. I darted over to the hose by the front door to load my gun with water.

In the backyard, Rick cowered beside Mariana. He was hosed—soaked head to toe. I continued to shoot him without dousing my sister. Vanquished, he stepped back, covering his face. I walked up to him and delivered a shotgun blast. Rick staggered away, his back to me, while I aimed low, drenching his rear. He flopped on the lawn and rolled up into a protective ball. “Stop! Stop!” he said, laughing, holding out a hand while I soaked his crotch.
It had been some time since I had laughed with abandon.

Memoir Outtake: Beatling

Lafayette/Moraga Regional Trail

Here’s a transition I excised from a chapter titled “Made Me Nuclear.” This cut comes between a perilous nighttime bike ride I took on St. Mary’s Road without my front bike light and Charlie Lustman’s amazing musical, Made Me Nuclear, in San Pancho. This is the extended version with 302 words I later pared down to 180 words, which I ultimately cut (boohoohoo!):


Once I made it onto the flat part of the trail, whose fissures and bumps I was familiar with, I turned my iPod on. I rang my bicycle bell a couple of times and made a tooting sound while I scrolled through my songs. A righteous Beatles tune to sing along to was needed. I picked one of my all-time Lennon faves, “I Am the Walrus.” I had memorized the song since I was seventeen when I became enamored with John. (Lennon was one of my first heroes. For his songwriting genius; the fearlessness he demonstrated in playing from his heart no matter how vulnerable or dark his emotions were; his open-mindedness; his wit; his self-deprecating sarcasm; and his belief that celebrities should utilize their power for what he believed were righteous causes.) I sang aloud to the song. I went to these noise-making lengths because that part of the trail had deer. They hid amidst the thicket of bushes, behind the trees that lined the path. During the previous school year, I rode the trail one night and nearly hit a deer that darted in front of me. Since then, as a precautionary step that happened to be joyous for me (though assuredly abominable to hear if anyone were around), I often sung aloud while I cycled through those deer-populated areas. That way, they knew I was there and wouldn’t freak out and jump in front of me once they saw my shrouded figure and the curious white light on my steering handle as I hurtled down the path like a glowing phantasm. (This strategy seemed to work because I never had another deer-in-bicycle-headlight encounter.)

And so, I goo goo g’joobed and hello-goodbyed my way onto the residential streets of Lafayette, beatling away. I made it to the station on time.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Beings - My 25 Favorite Animals

Photo by rasputina2

From an early age I have always had deep affection and fascination for all the animals we share this world with. When I was in grade school my mom would take me and my sister to the Irvington Library to load up on books and video cassettes to nourish us. I used to gingerly walk out of the library with a stack of books and tapes tucked beneath my chin. Back then, I almost exclusively read books about dinosaurs, Ancient Egyptians, and animals—especially sharks and predatory animals like hawks and snakes. Over time—though my parents didn’t believe me—I read all the animal books from that tiny library that interested me. My earliest career aspirations included becoming a zoo veterinarian, marine biologist, or archaeologist.



Last week Maria and I were watching Kangaroo Dundee on PBS. I had never seen an episode before. Our television showed Chris Barnes (a.k.a. Kangaroo Dundee) caring for two adorable joeys whose mother was killed in a vehicular accident. As we sat on the couch I mimicked the nurturing sound he made to the joeys while he held them on his lap in their pillowcases (which mimics their mother’s pouch). They also showed footage of Kangaroo Dundee slowly driving around Alice Springs at night, searching for female kangaroos who had been struck down by a vehicle. At one point, Mari said she could see me being someone who did something like that. I was touched. I could imagine myself being content with a simpler life devoted to caring for animals. I think I have always had far more compassion for animals other than humans.

Speaking of Homo sapiens sapiens, before I dive into my list of favorite animals I thought it would be worthwhile—since it’s related—to note my least favorite species. Here’s my top five in order:

• Humans: Like my homeboy Justin put it: we invented genocide. We also invented racism, homophobia, religious persecution, and enough nuclear weaponry to destroy most life on this planet. Sure, I’m solely focusing on the negative, but fuck humans. It makes me happy to think that someday we’ll be wiped off the face of Planet Earth.

• Mosquitos: There are few animals I will gladly kill but mosquitos are at the top of that list. I know that in the grand scheme mosquitos are important pests that spread disease (i.e. death) but I hate them!

• Silverfish: I don’t like them! Seeing them move almost always makes me squirm.

• Leeches: Ugh, leeches creep me out like few animals do. Years ago, I took a “hike” by myself at Khao Yai National Park in Thailand. (It’s worthwhile to mention that the park is home to wild boars AND TIGERS! Their roadside signage warn about cobras crossing the road.) I slipped on a ridiculously muddy “trail” near a stream and got a couple of leeches stuck on the anti-leech socks I wore. Back in my cottage it was incredibly hard to kill those little suckers. Watching them wiggle about in search of skin to suckle on made me shiver. They’re. Fucking. Gross.

• Cockroaches: I’ve been fortunate to live in homes that never attracted cockroaches. I’ve seen a few in my life. I think they’re kind of cool. They’re basically mini-tanks on six legs, but they’re still yuckers.

Fun fact: cockroaches can’t walk backwards—which is why, long ago some clever and wonderful humanitarian decided to use cockroaches as a form of torture; they would threaten to insert cockroaches into a captive’s ear since, you know, they can’t walk back out of the ear canal.

Like I said before, humans are supremely fucked up, man.

But anywho, let’s step back to the light. Let us step away from the squalid, the foul, the wretched. Let us bask with awe and wonder at these twenty-five creatures we are fortunate to share this planet with. My list is teeming with beautiful animals. Some are ferocious. Some are brilliant. Some are majestic. Some are ridiculously brave. Many of these animals have made extraordinary physical adaptations to their environments. I found myself particularly drawn to animals with unusual physical characteristics. (Surprise?) In researching these animals I watched my share of videos that captured these species in their daily grind for survival. My jaw dropped a lot of times. My eyes probably popped out a bit. I laughed out loud a couple of times in sheer joy at what I was witnessing from my laptop screen. It makes me happy to know that, as long as I live, I will never lose the childlike joy and wonder I feel when I watch these amazing animals in action, or read about what they do in order to continue on. I will always be profoundly humbled by all the diversity of life this planet of ours has created. (Consider this my shout out to carbon.)

Enough soliloquies. Here’s my list of favorite animals in no particular order:

1. Crow: A while back I took a silly quiz on Facebook that purported to have the ability to identify my spirit animal. I got a wolverine, which made me grin. I shared the quiz result with my sweetheart, Maria, and she told me a crow would have been more apt. I agreed. They are the most intelligent birds on Earth; they’re the only non-primate species known to make tools. A recent study by the University of Auckland found that crows have a reasoning ability that matches that of children aged between five and seven. Crows can be mischievous. And playful, too. I think they’re beautiful—and there’s something to be said about a bird family species that is found on every continent except Antarctica. Crows are masterful at adapting to various environments.

I hope crows survive the age of humans to evolve into the dominant species on Planet Earth.

2. Hummingbird: In recent months I’ve been crushing hard on hummingbirds. You will too if you watch this outstanding documentary:



They’re extraordinary creatures. Teeny ounce for teeny ounce, I humbly believe hummingbirds are amongst the toughest animals. From a design standpoint they’re astounding creations. During the day they are incredibly active, driven by a high metabolism and a body temperature of 40oC (107o Fahrenheit) that requires them to consume an abundance of nectar. At night their body temperature drops to 18oC, which allows them to survive cold nights. Hummingbirds can live a surprisingly long time; their average lifespan is 3-5 years though a few have been reported to live up to 12 years. One of the ways many of their subspecies survive is by migrating an incredibly long distance, especially in comparison to their minute stature.

The Mayans revered hummingbirds. I love those little guys a lot, too.

Photo by QImage Photos

3. Orca: If you ask me, orcas are the mightiest creatures roaming the ocean. It’s weird to think about that thanks to Sea World and the shows orcas imprisoned in captivity put on with their trainers, but orcas are not to be fucked with out in the ocean. Unlike solitary hunters like great white sharks they live and hunt in packs. And they’re amongst the most intelligent animals on this planet. With their simple swirls of black and white they’re beautiful creatures to behold.

4. Dog: A list of my favorite animals would be incomplete without dogs. I love ‘em, and they seem to like me! In my adulthood I’ve come to love cats for the ways they are unlike dogs, but dogs are incredible. They’re incredibly loyal. (I’m thinking of Hachikō the akita who waited nine years at a train station in Shibuya, Tokyo to be reunited with his owner.) Affectionate. And adorable (well the majority of them are). Dogs rule. We’re fortunate to have such trusting companions.

5. Flying squirrel: Remember that moment in Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight when Batman glides through the dazzling skyline of Hong Kong? Everyone loved that movie, and everyone loved that breathtaking scene. That’s just a typical day at the office for a flying squirrel:

Photo by Paul Jones

6. Gray jay: Okay, I didn’t even know gray jays existed until a few weeks ago when Mari and I saw a PBS documentary about winter life in the forests of Ontario. Not only are they beautiful, but gray jays are bad asses. They’re one of the few bird species who do not migrate south when the harsh winter envelopes the land. That’s hardcore in my book. One of their methods for surviving the long winter is by living off thousands of pieces of food they hide throughout the summer “behind flakes of bark, under tree lichens, or in any other nook or cranny that won't be covered with snow later on” according to a webpage about Algonquin Park in Ontario. Before it hides each food item, the gray jay coats the food with sticky saliva secreted from its enlarged salivary glands. Many months later, probably through memory, they fly about their wintry forest surroundings to unearth all the chunks of food they hid. It’s pretty impressive.

7. Mongoose: Mongooses are wild! Sure, they have immunity to small dosages of snake venom but I still think it’s crazy that Indian gray mongooses will hunt highly-venomous snakes like cobras. They’re ninjas of the plain, man! Just check out this “Matrix-style” move at the 2:25 mark. ¡Que locura!

Photo by Vittorio Ricci

8. Wolverine: Wolverines, man! They’re fierce motherfuckers! Pound for pound I think they’re in the top 1% percentile of animals with major cajones. There have been reports of a lone wolverine taking on an entire pack of wolves, even taking on a black bear. The dictionary entry for “brave” could have a picture of a wolverine (or badger, too).

9. Anglerfish: Man, deep sea creatures are gnarly. The depths of our oceans are truly our unexplored frontiers on Planet Earth. How could I not dig the anglerfish?—those nasty fangs adept at capturing prey, their profoundly grisly appearance, and the fact that they adapted to their pitch dark environment by developing a luminescent organ called the esca to lure prey to them? Dude, nature is whack. The anglerfish is proof.

Photo by Janys

10. Donkey: Most people would probably pick a horse instead but that’s too obvious of a choice for me. I’ve always liked donkeys because they seem like undercover buddhas to me (along with tree frogs). And I think they’re cute.

And they’re incredibly loyal to humans. Since young adulthood I’ve joked about growing up to have one or two and I’d never use them to transport any goods on their sturdy backs. I’d just one want to kick it with me.


11. Three-toed sloth: So I admittedly admire unusual animals, and sloths are a good example. Sloths have evolved from humungous, slow-moving land animals to languid animals that live up in the trees. Just watching sloths move makes me smile. What other mammal is like them, perpetually caught in slow-mo? It’s like they were built to chill.

Couple of cool facts about sloths: they’re solitary animals. Males and females primarily get together to, you know, get together. And sloths take a crap once a week—which is probably a wise evolutionary adaptation since it is a hazard for them to descend and trudge along the jungle floor with jaguars, snakes and osprey lurking. I have respect that sloths will go to the ground to take a proper crap; it’s like they have manners, or hygiene standards to uphold instead of just taking dumps from up in the branches.

Photo by Marsel van Oosten

12. Namaqua chameleon: There is something to be said about a species that can survive extreme environments like deserts and rain forests. As you probably know, chameleons can shift their coloration and pattern for the purposes of camouflage and to communicate with other chameleons. (For example, they tend to show darker colors when angered or when attempting to intimidate others.) And those eyes, that exceptional vision, and those long tongues. Chameleons are wizard lizards!

13. Siberian tiger: What would a list of my favorite animals be without one from the cat family? Few animals were built to be such masterful predators. The muscular, flexible bodies. The exceptional reflexes. The sharp retractable claws. The powerful jaws. And their excellent vision in the dark. Cats are beautiful killers. In my humble opinion, the Siberian tiger is the most beautiful. Check out this fascinating documentary of ecologist Chris Morgan trying to capture video of Siberian tigers out in the wild. They are amongst the largest cats. Their striped orange and white fur is exquisite. With the exception of humans, tigers are the kings of their land.

14. Grizzly bear: Speaking of exceptional killing machines, few animals can top grizzlies. They’re massive! And powerful. They’re the George Foreman/Sonny Listons of the animal world: one well-placed swipe from a full-grown grizzly can be game over. Adults can weigh over 500 pounds and still be clocked at speeds of over 25 mph once they gain momentum (which is why The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook advises running in a zigzag pattern if ever confronted with a bear).

With the exception of mothers and cubs, grizzlies are solitary animals. Few scenarios in life are as dangerous as encroaching upon a mother bear, which is why this video of ecologist Chris Morgan sitting within feet of grizzly cubs is absolutely intense to watch:



15. Beaver: Beavers are neat! They have incredible incisors and a natural tenacity to chop down trees that are significantly larger than them. And their tails are brilliant evolutionary mutations that allow them to be vigorous swimmers and alert their kin of danger. (Beavers will slap water with their tails to signal a predator, then subsequently dive into water for safety where they can hold their breath for up to fifteen minutes.) And their dams and lodges are strokes of simple genius, too.

I took this photo!

16. Llama!: This is where my Peruvian prejudice is apparent. Over a month ago Mari and I drove through Pescadero. I rolled down my window and yelled with glee the first time we drove past a farm with llamas chilling on the grass. Llamas are cool in my book because of their importance to Andean cultures. Their wool is exceptional. They’re hearty pack animals. And I really like that they can be surly, known for kicking and spitting when antagonized. I love you, llamas!

17. Mountain goat: Mountain goats are wild, man! They’re like a mammalian version of the flea, capable of leaping twelve feet in a single bound. Despite weighing between 100 to 300 pounds they willingly climb along absurdly steep, rocky slopes. With rough inner pads that provide exceptional grip and cloven hooves with two toes that spread wide for balance, they’re equipped to be the daredevil ninjas of the Rocky Mountains. Just check this shit out:



18. Jabiru: I saw one or two of these large storks stalking around a vast grassland while I camped out in Brasil’s Pantanal many years ago. With their large beaks they remind me of pelicans but they’re more elegant and beautiful.

And they’re huge, the tallest flying bird in Central and South America. And they have a cool name.





19. Aye Aye: ¡Ay caramba! What a peculiar creature! A nocturnal primate with one elongated finger used to tap along trees in search of hollow channels where yummy grub lie in wait. Coupled with batlike ears and an unseemly face, aye ayes are kind of creepy when they are hunting for prey, which is why I dig them:


(And isn’t it impressive how National Geographic put this footage together!)

20. Stargazer (not the epic Rainbow song): Stargazers are gnarly motherfuckers. The sucker punchers of the sea. If Gollum were an amphibian or sea creature he might call them “tricksy” creatures, burying themselves beneath sand to ambush unsuspecting fish who mosey past them. Their bites are venomous, and a few subspecies can deliver electrical currents.

Nasty motherfuckers, man.

21. Moray eel: Like stargazers, moray eels rely on surprise attacks to sustain themselves. Instead of attempting to appear like any typical patch of sandy sea floor these creatures hide within the nooks of a coral reef to strike at fish swimming by. The surprise attack is a common tactic in the animal world; several spiders and land snakes lurk in holes waiting for prey. It’s an excellent (but frowned upon) tactic in multiplayer shoot-em-up video games.

But giant moray eels—man. Reaching lengths of nearly 10 feet and weighing over 60 pounds, they are huge. Their jaws are powerful. In coral reefs, they’re the Boogeyman lurking in the shadows. Just see what nearly happened to this poor whitetip shark.

Gulp.

22. Whale shark: When I was a kid I loved sharks; makos, hammerheads, tiger sharks, and, of course, the great white were my favorites. Great white sharks are still the most captivating species but whale sharks are my favorite now.

They’re the largest fish in the world, capable of reaching a weight of 21.5 metric tons. With their spots and stripes and their languid swimming pace they seem so beautiful and majestic.

23. Black mamba: A snake had to crack my list since I’ve always liked them. (When I was a kid, I wanted a ball python for a pet but my parents said no.) With apologies to the Eastern diamondback rattlesnake, coral snake, spitting cobra (aah!) and the reticulated python, I chose the black mamba because: 1) they’re the fastest land snake, capable of reaching speeds over 12 mph, 2) can stand tall in a physically imposing manner, 3) can reach lengths of 14 feet (which is not shabby considering the king cobra, the longest poisonous land snake, is capable of reaching lengths that are not much longer), 4) their venom is crazy-potent (two drops can kill a human), and 5) I happen to think they’re beautiful creatures, especially with that vicious little smirk. This is all easy for me to write, far, far from Africa.

24. Kangaroo: With apologies to the koala and Tasmanian devil, kangaroos are my favorite marsupial. Most animal babies are probably cute but joeys are ridiculously cute with their disproportionately large feet. Although they derive from only one continent a mama kangaroo’s pouch is popularly known. Like llamas, I like how male kangaroos can be feisty bastards when full grown. Even when they’re “boxing,” I still think adult kangaroos are super cute.

25. Tarsier: “High bouncing gremlins of the jungle” is an apt description for these big-eyed primates, these bug hunters of the night, the only primates that are entirely carnivorous. Ninja Gaiden has nothing on these little guys!




What are your favorite animals? Please feel free to let me know in the comments section. I hope you enjoyed this gallery!

Memoir Outtake: Cycling through the Shitstorm

Here's the first of my memoir outtakes I am going to post on this blog. Like deleted film scenes, I thought it’d be fun to show what didn’t make the cut. Hope you enjoy this outtake from a chapter now titled "The Freak Show":


During our therapy sessions, I used a lot of analogies to explain myself to Akhila, the attractive woman with curly brown hair whom I had chosen as my therapist. For example, one day I tore out of my home on Dolores Street to make it to our evening session on time. I had less than fifteen minutes to cycle to their office in Hayes Valley, which was almost two miles away. A few minutes into my ride, it began to hail. Bicyclists were pulling off of Valencia Street, ducking beneath awnings, huddling in doorways with other pedestrians who stared out to the street. The pavement was doting with pebbles of hail. They thunked off my helmet. A few of them hurt as they panged off my knuckles even though I was wearing cycling gloves. Shit, I said, waiting at a red light as I got pelted from the icy mini-meteor shower. Once the signal turned green, I squinted and lowered my head to protect my eyes. I pedaled on.

Cold and sweaty with pieces of hail lodged into my sweater, I stepped into Akhila’s private study. I closed the door behind me. With a smirk, I wiped the sweat on my forehead with a hand towel.

“Sorry I’m late. I got caught in that hailstorm,” I said, nodding toward the window.

I dropped my shoulder bag and helmet beside my chair. I took a seat opposite Akhila, then stared out the window at the dark gray sky. The hailstorm had passed. I couldn’t stop grinning. Akhila watched me with a curious grin. Perhaps she sensed all the energy bouncing inside me like billiard balls after a thundering break. I felt like I could run for miles.

I chortled.

“That’s how the past year of my life has been,” I said, placing the hand towel on my lap as I tried to rein myself in. I explained that it was my first ride in the hail, that other cyclists pulled off the road. I brought up chemotherapy. “If I wanted to live, I had no choice but to just lower my head and keep going and going through that shitstorm, just like the bike ride I had now.”

I held my head high like a boy who just completed his first multiplication table. I was pleased with myself—how simple yet perfect the analogy was. Akhila nodded as though she was saying “Right on.”

Clown Without Pity’s 2014-2015 NBA Playoff Predictions!

Oh boy oh boy oh boy, here we go: the NBA Playoffs! The playoff bracket has finally been set, and I breathed a big sigh of relief this past Wednesday because the Spurs did not land the #4 or #5 spot, which would have meant an encounter in the second round with my beloved Warriors. Did you see what I did there? I’m already assuming that the Warriors and Spurs will advance past the opening round! Okay, okay—I’ve got to slow down. Getting ahead of myself here.

Before I go into my round by round predictions, here’s a couple of executive summary-like thoughts:



1) Two months ago I was not buying that the Warriors could win it all. I just didn’t believe they had earned enough Boy Scout badges to lead the troop. I’ve changed my tune since then. I think they have a really good shot. (Much more on this later.)
2) As a Warriors fan, there’s only one team I truly fear: the Spurs
3) Like NBA gambler Haralabos Voulgaris, I believe there are only three legit title contenders this year: the Warriors, Spurs, and the Cavaliers.
4) If I had to round out the top five teams heading into the 2014-2015 playoffs, I would say it’s the Clippers and Hawks—and in that order.
5) Unlike the 2013-2014 NBA Playoffs, which arguably had the greatest opening round ever with 5 of the 8 series going the distance and a record 8 games decided in overtime, I don’t think this year’s opening round will be as exciting. However, I think the conference semifinals and final rounds have the potential to provide a few epic series that will be talked about for years.

On that note, here’s my opening round predictions starting with the Eastern Conference, which will be less exciting like in recent years:

(1) Atlanta Hawks vs. (8) Brooklyn Nets

The Hawks are good. The Nets are not. Hawks in 5.

(2) Cleveland Cavaliers vs. (7) Boston Celtics

Ever since their record dipped to 19-20, the Cleveland Cavaliers have been a scorching 34-9. Nothing like a team-bonding event to a bowling alley in Los Angeles to change the landscape of the NBA season! Boston’s an up and coming team. Brad Stevens is a fucking jedi of a coach so I think they’ll pull off one win. Team LeBron in 5.

(3) Chicago Bulls vs. (6) Milwaukee Bucks

The Bulls won the season series 3-1 but I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if the Bucks push the Bulls to the brink in this series. Probably going to be the most captivating first-round series in the Eastern Conference. (That’s not saying much.) Kidd’s coached the Bucks to respectability but Thibodeau consistently squeezes all the collective will out of his squads come playoff time. Bulls in 6.

(4) Toronto Raptors vs. (5) Washington Wizards
During the regular season Toronto won all three of their matchups. Will the Wizards surprise again this year in the playoffs? It all depends on Bradley Beal’s health. With him the Wizards have one of the top backcourts in the game. But the Raptors have a pretty good one too. I think the Raptors will devour the Wizards in 6.


Western Conference - First Round:

(1) Golden State Warriors vs. (8) New Orleans Pelicans

Welcome to the playoffs, Anthony Davis! The Brow has the potential to be go down as one of the greatest power forwards ever but in this series he’s simply wading into waves and getting his playoff feet wet before The Splash Brothers wipe them out. The Pelicans are winning one game at most. Warriors in 5.

(2) Houston Rockets vs. (7) Dallas Mavericks

I know the Rockets have a top-10 defense but without Dwight Howard in the middle they’re one of the least daunting second seeds to come out of the Western Conference in recent years. Early in the year, the Mavs were a slightly scary team with a bonafide offense—and then they traded for Rajon Rondo. If he’s still around, the knight guarding the Holy Grail in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade would tell Mark Cuban that he “chose poorly.” That said, Rick “I Am Not a Bald Jim Carrey!” Carlisle is a bad motherfucker of a coach. Just ask Gregg Popovich and his reigning champions who almost went down 3-2 to the Mavs in last year’s opening round. This could be a tight series even with the Mavs sporting a point guard who shot a staggering 45% from the free throw line. I think The Big Battle in Texas will end with Houston in 6.

(3) L.A. Clippers vs. (6) San Antonio Spurs

Oh man, this can be a good one, too. Both teams finished strong at the end of the season: the Clippers have a seven-game winning streak and are 14-1 in their last fifteen games while San Antonio just had an eleven-game winning streak snapped by The Brow and the Pelicans. Along with the Warriors, these are the best teams in the Western Conference—and one is getting knocked out in the opening round. It’s kind of a shame. If I had a dream second-round match for the Warriors, sweet baby Jesus I would have loved to see the Clippers play the Warriors just so I can see more of this:



The Clippers have a mighty starting five but their bench is a joke (Austin Rivers! Lester Hudson! Spencer Hawes!)—and the Spurs are still a team that sports 9-10 players who on any given night can make a significant winning contribution. In a playoff series that’s a significant advantage especially for the greatest NBA coach I’ve ever seen. Spurs in 6.

(4) Portland Trail Blazers vs. (5) Memphis Grizzlies

Two months ago this would have been an awesome matchup. Now I’m kind of meh about it. Back then, the Grizzlies were a team I feared (as a Warrior fan) and the Blazers had a decent defense. Both teams have declined since then. The Blazers lost their best perimeter defender, Wesley Matthews, and Gasol just hasn’t been a dominant offensive force for Memphis like he was earlier in the year. I don’t think Stumptown will have another playoff victory to celebrate this year. The Grizzlies owned the Blazers during the regular season. I don’t think that’s gonna change in the playoffs especially with a banged-up LaMarcus Aldridge. Grizzlies in 5.


Eastern Conference – Semifinals

(1) Atlanta Hawks vs. (4) Toronto Raptors
Although Atlanta won eleven more games during the regular season, Toronto convincingly took the season series 3-1. The Raptors averaged over 107 points per game against the Hawks including a 126-115 shelling in Atlanta. I think Toronto is returning to the Eastern Conference Finals for the first time since Vince Carter’s Air Canada days. Toronto in 6.

(2) Cleveland Cavaliers vs. (3) Chicago Bulls
Thibodeau vs. LeBron. We seem to see this matchup every year in the playoffs. In theory, I think Chicago is the only team in the Eastern Conference that could beat the Cavs but way too many things would have to go right for that to happen. With Rose’s latest injury, I just don’t see it happening. Cleveland in 5.


Western Conference – Semifinals

(1) Golden State Warriors vs. (5) Memphis Grizzlies
Memphis’s frontline of Gasol and Z-Bo can pose problems for the Warriors, but the Dubs dominated the Grizzlies in Memphis a few weeks back. From a physical standpoint I think the Warriors will be tested, but I’m confident we’ll win this series. Warriors in 5.

(2) Houston Rockets vs. (6) San Antonio Spurs
Well goddamn, another big duel in the Lone Star State! Except I don’t think this will be much of series. [With an announcer voice:] James Harden, drives hard into the lane, and he meets a buzzsaw! Spurs in 5.


Eastern Conference Finals

(2) Cleveland Cavaliers vs. (4) Toronto Raptors
Toronto won their first match of the season in Cleveland but the Cavs went on to win the last three of their regular season matchups. This could be a high-scoring series replete with ESPN highlights but I don’t think it will be very close. Cavs in 5.

Western Conference Finals

(1) Golden State Warriors vs. (6) San Antonio Spurs
Dear god, this is the one series I have had the hardest time picking a winner for. I would be shocked if this series is ended in less than six games. The two most likely outcomes I see are the Spurs winning in 6 or the Warriors taking it in front of the Roarcle crowd in 7. It could be a truly epic series. This is where Kerr’s relative inexperience in the playoffs could be the deciding factor because we know Popovich and his staff will push all the right buttons to maximize their probability of winning—and the Spurs are the penultimate veteran team that have endured their share of epic playoff battles. Alvin Gentry’s presence on the Warrior’s bench can be huge in a series like this one.

In the end, I think it might come down to which team collectively wants it more. Last year’s Spurs squad played with great urgency and desire. They sought to avenge their uncharacteristic loss to the Heat in the Finals. They’re all-time champions so it’s in their nature to want to win badly. I don’t think there’s an on or off switch there, but I think the Warriors have the edge here. I think our best players have been around enough to know that an excellent opportunity to win a championship doesn’t present itself often.

Plus, as Tim Kawakami noted in his Talking Points blog back in late January, the Warriors historically good point-differential bodes well for winning a championship. Here’s a list of other great NBA teams with an excellent point-differential and how they fared in the playoffs:

(List of teams with a +10.0 or better regular-season point-differential in NBA history)
1. Los Angeles Lakers, 1971-’72…. +12.3. Regular-season record: 69-13. Result: NBA champion.
2. Milwaukee Bucks, 1970-’71…. +12.3. (Lakers were a few hundreths higher.) Regular-season record: 66-16. Result: NBA champion.
3. Chicago Bulls, 1995-’96…. +12.2. Regular-season record: 72-10. Result: NBA champion.
4. Milwaukee Bucks, 1971-72…. +11.2. Regular-season record: 63-19. Result: Lost in West finals to the No. 1 team on this list.
5. Chicago Bulls, 1996-’97… +10.8. Regular-season record: 69-13. Result: NBA champion.
6. Chicago Bulls, 1991-’92… +10.4. Regular-season record: 67-15. Result: NBA champion.
7. Boston Celtics, 2007-’08…. +10.3. Regular-season record: 66-16. Result: NBA champion.
8. Golden State Warriors, 2014-'15… +10.1

That's quite a historical trend. I think the Warriors will win in 7.


NBA Finals
(1) Golden State Warriors vs. (2) Cleveland Cavaliers

The Warriors have homecourt advantage throughout the playoffs so the central question for this series is a simple one: can the Cavs come into Oakland and win a game against a team that was 39-2 at home? With an all-time great like LeBron I think they certainly can, but I don’t think they will. Now, can the Warriors win in Cleveland? I think that will be an equally tough task. But I think they can: Warriors in 6.

Sweet jesus, I hope I haven’t jinxed the Warriors.

I can’t wait for these playoffs to begin.

How to Obtain Permission to Reprint Lyrics for a Work of Literature

Music has been an integral rhythm in my life so no wonder that was reflected in my memoir. Early complete drafts of my manuscript were littered with musical references, including beaucoup song lyrics. From the beginning my classmates at Saint Mary’s warned me that it was costly to procure permission to reprint song lyrics. I never doubted that, but I also received conflicting information as far as what lyrics I could use for free. Unless my memory is fuzzy—which is entirely possible—I assumed, for the longest time, that I could use up to three lines of song lyrics before I would have to shell out any money to reprint them. Although I was unable to substantiate this in Getting Permission: How to License & Clear Copyrighted Materials Online & Off , or through Internet research, I continued to believe this.

Call it wishful thinking.

Now that my manuscript is being finalized—and after I found out how arduous it can be to attain reprint permission, and how expensive reprint fees can be—I decided it would be good to write an article discussing my experience. I also wanted to provide some tips that can help other writers interested in obtaining permission to reprint lyrics for their work. Also, I found several articles and message boards online that were useful but I didn’t find one article or page that housed all that information. I hope this post can provide that all-encompassing help.

To chronicle my experience in obtaining permission to reprint song lyrics for a work of literature, let’s go back to my manuscript.

The manuscript I submitted to my publisher was peppered with song lyrics. Here’s some examples: in the second chapter of my book I used four lines from a Beth Gibbons & Rustin Man song; a later chapter had an epigraph with lyrics from a Langston Hughes poem; in another chapter I wrote one line from Led Zeppelin’s "In the Light.” In similar fashion I referenced one line of song lyrics from a Metallica song, Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” and Patsy Cline’s “Crazy.” And that’s just the beginning. I also had two chapters written in screenplay format which incorporated song lyrics into character dialogue. In total, my manuscript contained thirteen instances of song lyric usage. (And my editor, Elise, bless her, combed the entire manuscript to note each instance.)

She also informed me that most music rights holders would insist on charging for permission to reprint lyrics. This was no surprise, but I thought I still might be able to get away with using one single line of music lyrics without having to pay a fee. Although I was still naïve about what financial hurdles lay ahead, I knew enough to know that I was unwilling to pay for the right to reprint all those lyrics in my manuscript.

Once my publisher and I honed in on the song lyrics that we really wanted to keep, I went about crafting a letter template to send to the music publishers. I crafted my own letter from this sample letter template I found through The University of Iowa Press. (Their guidelines from their When You Must Get the Copyright Holder’s Permission and Preparing permission requests sections are succinct and solid; you can check them out here.)

Once I got my permission letter template down, the next step, naturally, was finding the name and contact information for the appropriate music rights holder. I figured it would take some work but be relatively easy.

Boy was I wrong.

In my experience, the most challenging aspect of this entire process was figuring out who the correct music rights holder was. Let me give you one example to demonstrate how challenging this was: The Misfits “Die, Die My Darling.”

Okay, so I sought reprint permission for The Misfits “Die, Die My Darling.” Good place to start—knowing the artist and the song title. From there the all-seeing Eye of Sauron—I mean, Google—directed me to a Wikipedia link which informed me that the song was released in 1984 through Glenn Danzig’s label, Plan 9 Records. Great, Plan 9 Records, here I come! A Wikipedia entry (god bless ‘em; and if you use Wikipedia as much as I do, do the right thing and throw some bones their way) for Plan 9 Records informs me that the label was discontinued in 1995. Its materials were subsequently distributed by Caroline Records—whoever they are. Okay, Caroline Records, here I come! But then the Wikipedia entry for Caroline Records states that their parent company is Universal Music Group. According to the article, “Caroline Records are subsidiaries of Caroline Music, which includes Caroline Distribution and is in turn owned by Universal Music Group.” Doobie doo, so methinks Universal Music Group is the place to contact to obtain reprint rights for The Misfits “Die, Die My Darling.”

Still with me? Good. Because we just got started on the trail.

According to the Eye of Sauron, I mean NSA’s bed buddy, I mean Google, “Universal Music Group is the largest music corporation in the world.” Great. Since I had already embarked on adventures through the websites of music conglomerates like Sony Music Entertainment and EMI Publishing I knew it might be challenging to pin down the contact information for whoever manages such permission requests.
In short, my attempt to obtain reprint rights for a song owned by the Universal Music Group took me to an outfit called Hal Leonard Corporation. Who are they? Glad you asked; according to their website, Hal Leonard Corporation is the world's largest music print publisher. What’s there relation to Universal Music Group? I don’t know. All I know is that you have to bark up their tree in order to obtain the music print rights ye seek.

From their Copyright page I was directed to their Copyright Department. It contains handy-dandy links for the types of permission they grant. What I needed was permission to reprint “Lyrics only in a publication.”

Long story short I submitted an online request to Hal Leonard Corporation requesting permission to reprint lyrics from The Misfits song. This happened on October 6, 2014. Their Copyright page states, in big bold letters, “PLEASE ALLOW 4-6 WEEKS FOR PROCESSING,” so I allowed it to slip from my mind. Two months later I received a response. They informed me that “the print rights to ‘Die, Die My Darling’ are controlled by Reach Music Publishing”—whoever they are. The person who sent me the letter was kind enough to include contact information for Reach Music Publishing. By that point, though, my editor and I had already devised a way to retain the chapter and refer to The Misfits song without using any lyrics. I saved myself that chunk of change.

So that’s one song I sought for reprint permission.

There were four other songs I was interested in obtaining reprint permission.

Attempting to find music rights holder can take you into an interweb wormhole especially when you’re dealing with corporations like Universal Music Group and EMI Publishing. Figuring out who owns who is a challenge on its own. Figuring out the proper contact information is yet another challenge.

Thankfully, I was directed to music and performing rights organizations like ASCAP, BMI and SESAC that have searchable repertories/repertoires that can help you identify the correct copyright holder for a song. ASCAP’s Repertory search found a listing for one of the songs I sought reprint permission for, Louis Armstrong’s “Someday You’ll Be Sorry.” Their website provided the contact information for the Music Sales Corporation, the copyright holder for that composition.
The initial permission letter I received from them granted permission for an initial print run of 2,000 cloth copies for $100. Not bad, I thought. But then, my publisher asked me to secure “the nonexclusive right to reprint lyrics from the composition” for up to 4,000 hardback, paper, cloth and electronic copies. The company countered with a fee well over $300 for a print run of 4,000 copies. It was quite a jump from their initial letter. I inquired about the cost if we lowered the print run. I was informed that their fee is dependent on the number of copies.

In the end, I paid over $200 for the right to reprint four lines of lyrics from Louis Armstrong’s “Someday” for a print run of 2,500 hardback, paper, cloth and electronic copies. If I need to obtain permission for additional copies—which I highly doubt—I will have to contact the company to negotiate that fee.

At about the same time I was negotiating this reprint fee for Louis Armstrong’s 1946 song, I was trading e-mails with Metallica’s management, QPrime. I badly wanted to incorporate lyrics from their song, “Bleeding Me,” into my manuscript.

Once I forwarded an e-mail inquiry to QPrime they got in touch with me soon after. Via e-mail we negotiated what I sought and how much a “lyric reprint fee” would be. Before long, I received an e-mail from them stating “confirmation of the client’s approval of the reprint of the lyrics from the Composition,…for gratis for the first 4,000 units sold, MFN with all other lyrics being licensed for reprint in the Book.”

I was beyond stoked. You have to understand that I am a huge Metallica fan. In my letter to Metallica’s management I gushed about how much their music meant to me—that I had been listening to Metallica for over half of my life (true) and that I couldn’t quite conceive of life without their music (also true). Metallica—“the client”—had granted their approval of reprinting lyrics from “Bleeding Me,” a song that still means a lot to me. I was ecstatic about that alone—that a member(s) from one of my favorite bands had presumably read the chapter in which I wrote about how much that song meant to me. And I was positively thrilled that they were granting me the right to use the lyrics FOR FREE for the first 4,000 units sold. I was so excited that I had overlooked that curious acronym,“MFN,” in their e-mail.

So what does “MFN” mean?

Elise, the fantastic Senior Acquisitions Editor at the University of New Mexico Press and her equally wonderful colleague, John (the Director of the press), explained that Metallica’s publishing entity, Creeping Death Music (ASCAP) was willing to give me use gratis for 4,000 copies unless I had an agreement with another company for reprint permission—and happened to be paying said company. In that case, QPrime required that I match the same deal with the highest amount that I was paying another company. In this case, ASCAP sought the same deal that the Music Sales Corporation struck in granting permission for “Someday.” That is what “MFN”—legally known as the Most Favored Nations Provision—means.

So that was a bummer. I should have known better. If something’s too good to be true, it typically is. That’s life.

In the end, I was unwilling to shell out around $500 for the right to reprint two sets of lyrics for 2,500 copies. That would have meant paying about .20¢ per copy for the right to include those lyrics. (Don’t they know I’m a fucking writer, e.g. I’m not loaded with money?) And that agreement was only for the initial copy run. If I ever sold more than 2,500 copies of my book, what would these music corporations charge me for additional copies?

Sigh.

But anywho, to wrap up this post, here are some tips and resources in obtaining reprint rights for a work of literature. I hope they’re helpful. Please feel free to include any other resources in the comments section.


Tips:
• Once you finalize your manuscript, really, really hone in on the lyrics that are indispensable—the ones you need to convey your story.
• If your manuscript will be printed for commercial purposes, figure out how many copies your initial print run will be. In all likelihood, the copyright holders will price the reprint fee based on the amount of copies.
• Give yourself ample time—more than two to three months—to obtain permission. It may take a long time to hear back from these corporations—if they ever respond. (I sent an inquiry to Document Records for reprint permission rights to an old Virginia Liston song. I never heard from them.)  

Resources 

Music and performing rights organizations:
ASCAP: http://www.ascap.com/
BMI: http://www.bmi.com/
SESAC: http://www.sesac.com/

Coping (or Why Do I Wake Up in the Morning?)

“We [human beings] are on a nice downward glide. I call it circling the drain. And the circles get smaller and smaller and faster and faster. And you watch the sink empty. Huish!”
–George Carlin, 2011

Why do I wake up in the morning
Nothing's changed since the day of my birth.
-Mike Muir from If I Don't Wake Up, 1988

Life is tough. Full of pain. Teeming with injustice. Coping is a life skill. As far as I know, our colleges don’t provide courses to help one cope with life in our modern world.

So how does one cope?


Our future is bleak. I think that’s becoming increasingly clear unless you’re one of those humans who believes that evolution is a fiction, that global warming is a falsehood created by liberals and scientists so they can obtain funding for their studies, or that racism no longer exists in the United States. The signs of our inevitable demise, signs that our cameo on Planet Earth is racing to an end, are everywhere; you can’t get much more of a warning than when astrophysicist-genius Stephen Hawking warned in 2010: "Our only chance of long-term survival is not to remain inward looking on planet Earth but to spread out into space. We have made remarkable progress in the last hundred years. But if we want to continue beyond the next hundred years, our future is in space.”

By now, you would have to be the human equivalent of an ostrich, with one’s head stubbornly entrenched in the sand in order not to see all the signs our planet is giving us. Here’s a sampling—and I’m just a hardly informed citizen who reads some online articles:
• The mass die off of bees around the world
• The decimation of our coral reefs at a worldwide scale
• The alarming decrease of plankton—a crucial source of oceanic substenance—in recent years
• The change in migration patterns of countless species throughout the world—in our oceans, in our skies, on our land masses
• The rapid melting of our polar ice caps
• The alarming droughts and subsequent issues of water scarcity affecting major population areas like Brazil and Western United States, which includes California, Nevada, New Mexico, Arizona, and across the Southern Plains to Texas and Oklahoma.

So how do we grapple with this? How can we live with this knowledge and continue to attempt to live some form of a typical existence without imploding, without succumbing to depression, without completing giving up? How can we go on?

Like anything in life, I believe there is no right or wrong. There is no template of thought and action that can work for every single individual. With over 7.3 billion people and counting, our diversity is far too vast for that.

The purpose of this post is to share some thoughts I have on this topic, to share some coping mechanisms that I am trying to develop and hone. Again, this is a haphazard assemblage. I wasn’t formally taught any of these skills, and, last time I checked, I’m not referred to as His Holiness the Dalai Lama.

Lately, there’s been a lot of ugliness in the world—or so it seems to be amplified since the Internet can almost instantaneously connect us to happenings in practically any corner of our planet. Ferguson, Missouri. The police murder of Eric Garner. The fact that these police murders of our black brothers and sisters continue to happen—and it seems like there’s always a new instance of it. The seemingly neverending conflict in Gaza. The 46 students from Iguala, Mexico murdered, in all likelihood, by the Federal police. The massacre of over 2,000 people—mostly women, children, and the elderly—in Baga, Nigeria. All the ISIS beheadings. The outbreak of ebola in West Africa. I could go on and on and on and on and on.

A few months back, when I developed a fleeting obsession of Joseph Campbell, I heard that he didn’t read a newspaper for 28 years. (He also saw few films during that time, which I consider appalling.) I have tried to find an interview in which he states why he chose to ignore the news in his time but have been unable to. Whatever his reasons were, I can hardly blame him. What is the point of keeping up to date with the news? I’m speaking for myself on this one, but do we really need to read the news or watch our daily newscast (which I equate with propaganda, or what Bill Hicks said about “the news”) to know that the world we shape is supremely fucked up? Do I need to keep abreast of our news to know that it’s hopeless to believe that we will ever learn to coexist in peace? The answer, of course, is “no.” For similar reasons, I’m on Facebook less (a.k.a. Bragbook, a.k.a. Shitbook, because people—including myself—use it to vent their shit) because I don’t need to log in and see my newsfeed to be reminded of how fucked up our world is.

Which brings me to George Carlin.

A few years ago I became aware of one of his famous quotes: “It's important in life if you don't give a shit. It can help you a lot.” I thought it was sort of funny, but I didn’t really get it.

But then the Occupy Movement happened. I saw how much effort our government and police forces expended to undermine and destroy that movement. Then George Zimmerman murdered Trayvon Martin. Reading comments in any online article about the trial was like glimpsing into a hell, so I don't do that anymore. (I have enough anger about how things are. I don't need to feed that fire.) And then Michael Brown was murdered. And again, our inherently racist criminal justice system protected its own and I was left, again, along with millions of other Americans thinking Has any racial progress ever happened on this land?—a land stolen from Native Americans, a land that played host to their genocide which our history books have done a neat job of glancing over, a land that eventually became the United States, a country whose economy was built by slavery. Though I should have given up on my species, like George Carlin wisely did years ago before he died, I finally did after all these recent injustices and atrocities. As Carlin said in his Archive of American Television interview, “the shit is too deep.”

This country is done for. We’re done for as a species. We’ll never change. We’ll never evolve past racism. We’ll never stop using religion or spiritual beliefs to separate ourselves because we’re humans. Despite our outward appearance, despite our modern wardrobe, despite all our fancy gadgets and technology we’re still inherently a tribal beast, and there will always be a human—or group of humans—that will think they’re superior to others. I don’t think that will ever change.

So I’m completely hopeless? Of course I still maintain the right to keep a glimmer of hope. Or, as George Carlin once said: “Oh, they say if you scratch a cynic, you'll find a disappointed idealist. And I would admit, that somewhere underneath all this there's a little flicker of a flame of idealism that would love to see it all—huish—change. But it can't—it can’t happen that way. And incremental change—it just seems the pile of shit is too deep.”



Nowadays I’m trying to cope by stealing yet another page from The Book of Carlin: I’m trying not to have a vested interest in any particular outcome regarding all our madness. Like him, I’m trying to mentally divorce myself from all the injustice and shit we will always have among ourselves. I’m trying to see myself primarily as an observer of how we as a species continue to treat this planet like a fucking rental. (Economist Lawrence Summers once said: “In the history of the world, no one has ever washed a rented car.”) As hard and emotionally impossible as it is, I’m trying not to give a shit. I’m trying not to give a shit about something I have no control over. I know this may make you idealists shake your head at me but I think a part of you can understand how it’s a practical and sane reaction.

That’s how I’m trying to cope. And, of course, love and laughter are necessary tonics. If we’re not living to be with the people we love, to do what we love, what’s the point in waking up?