Tag Archives: santa cruz

The Day My Cardboard Dream Came True

Leave a reply
 

my barefoot break dance gear

To school, I wore a shiny red sweat suit with white stripes running down the arms and legs. Back in the day, it was the raging style. In that boisterous outfit when the lunch bell rang, I darted off to the gym,  where I would bust some “fresh” break dance moves.

I could robot well, I could crab crawl, and I could even do front flips. But there was one move that I could never master. It was called the windmill. The break dancers of today still twirl it out because it’s a lovely move. The legs scissor overhead, then they swing down, and when the movement is perfect, they are shifted towards heaven so that the downward motion is transformed into a surging magical levitation, the torso pops a rotation and the cycle repeats. The magical surging levitation was the crucial part of the Windmill that I could never get right. Instead of gracefully swinging overhead, rolling down, then floating up, my knees would just bang on the hardwood floor.

Maybe it was  the memory of the thrill of learning to ride a unicycle at age 35 or maybe it was the retro bubble letters I saw on a Web page, but

I had this desperate urge to conquer the dang Windmill.

First stop: YouTube. Break-dance instruction video, check. Makeshift amazon cardboard dance floor on the living room carpet: check. Silly 80s break-dance music: Doug E. Fresh on Spotify: check. Determination to succeed: double-check.

Maybe my mind had never stopped working the mystical timing problem with the windmill break-dance move.  But something had changed. The decades of accumulated wisdom all kicked into action, for as soon as I attempted the move, success embraced me with her loving arms and my legs whipped around at just the right time without banging the ground and I, Mister Middle Aged Barefoot Runner, was doing the windmill like a feral teenager full of joy and hope! It was like that day my parents picked us from the last day of school and took us to Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk and my dad made us yellow painted skim-boards in the shape of rockets and we slide on top of the thin sheet of cool ocean water at high speeds and flipped into the oncoming foamy waves and the sun was out and everyone was happy and it all smelled like sweet Mr. Zoggs coconut surf wax. That thrill filled me as I busted out some delicious break-dance in my living room. Suddenly I was remembering  moves I thought time had eaten; I was doing the bronco, back-spins, snap-twists, and of course, the freaking windmill. Someone should have filmed it; it was so beautiful and I was sweaty and barefoot at the end, but there was a smile tattooed on my face the rest of night and I slept well and dreamed of apples.

The next day, my triumphant re-entry into the fabulous world of 80s break dance turned into a dull pain on my side an inch or so from my heart. It got worse as the day rolled on. The following day, I suspected a cracked or bruised a rib or maybe the popping of delicate internal organs; deep breathing hurt as did moving my torso in any direction, but I didn’t care. I conquered the dang Windmill and it was worth it.

Tout disparaîtra mais. Le vent nous portera.


HIT PLAY TO HEAR THE EPIC BREAK-DANCE SONG.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Related Posts:

5 Spectacular Barefoot Movie Disasters

1 Reply
 

Cold, dark winter days are upon us. In the freezing evenings, I like to blast some popcorn,  pour myself a tall glass of hot cocoa, snuggle beneath a heated blanket, and watch a movie.

Unfortunately, greedy Hollywood suits have put out some real Razzies. Here are 5 of the worst “films” I’ve ever seen without wearing shoes.

  1. Wicker Man

    Nick Cage tries to move his botox infested forehead and punches women in the face. He gets covered with angry bees and his legs smashed before he’s stuffed into a Giant Neo-Pagan Kewpie doll and burned alive for it. At least the movie has a happy ending.
  2. Surf Tribe
    The people who made this movie are so ashamed that it doesn’t even appear in the Internet Movie Database. I think I rented this on video. I am not sure how it came to me. I remember watching it in Santa Cruz with my wife when we lived on Seabright Ave. At any rate, this film has the heart rending sappy story-line about a dying surfer and of course it somehow involves the ever so popular Hollywood star of the sea: the much beloved dolphin. The amazing thing about this movie is not the boon mic that creeps on screen or the bad halogen lighting that casts the shadows of camera crew’s jeans on the walls of interior scenes or even the terrible acting, it’s the lack of stock dolphin footage. The whole premise of this movie rests on the dolphin’s dorsal fin, yet none of porpoises appear on screen.  In place of the noble sea beast, we get shots of a broken surfboard and the corpse of cripple surfer sinking below the big waves of Cancun: another movie with a terrifically happy ending.
  3. Titanic II
    Titanic 2

    Titanic 2 (Image via RottenTomatoes.com)

    This epic Fail was just crappy enough to make it into the internet movie database. I think the title for Titanic II is a good enough clue to the caliber of film making and amount of thought put into this movie.
    This flick will make you question the validity of open source CG. The fuzzy, blurry, “wake “of ship looks like milk and the deep ocean waters look like striped jello; it’s the kind of CG, you get from the freeware version of Bryce. I wouldn’t be surprised if the images were edited with MS Paint or GIMP (Oh, forgive me opensource-land. GIMP is barefooter’s image program if ever I’ve seen one. But I married Photoshop a few years ago and I don’t cheat.) In this meaningless remake, which is fobbed off as a sequel to James Cameron‘s epic film, the dashing captain who arrives on the ship via a giant whirling grey blur that is supposed to be a “helicopter” drowns saving the ships passengers and his lover, thus adding to list of happy endings.

  4. The Entire Twitlight Saga

    Stephenie Meyer and her Morman sensibilities have sucked the life from vampire lore and padded on a thin coat of white powder that doesn’t cover all of Edwards neck in the cafeteria scene of the first movie. Mrs. Meyer offers the dandiest, shallowest, de-caffeinatest vampires ever to sparkle and glow in the light of DAY!!! Yep. Her deadly creatures of the night look prettier in the sunlight!!!
    Stephanie, my dear, the entire point–a point that every other author respects about vampires and vampiric lore–is that Dracula and Daylight don’t go together!!!! Not only is the nocturnal nature of vampire a symbol of their devilish drift, but it also adds a critical and essential weakness. In the stupid world of Stephanie Meyers, there is NOTHING that can defeat the gaunt, lifeless vampires or dark, hunky werewolves. The deadly daylight bloodsucking demons can devour the entire world in shiny sparkles. How nice. The only thing this movie has going for it is the cannibalistic baby who feasts on its mother’s innards. Even the High Prince of Darkness would consider that to be a little twisted. Dear Stephanie, ask one of your husbands ex-wives for some coffee.
  5. Showgirls

    This movie was so lousy, my wife was forced to watch parts of it in class at UCSC. She was taking a course–this is NOT a lie–about the films of John Carpenter (Big Trouble in Little China, Halloween, Escape from New York, and They Live).  Her professor, who is a renown Chaucer expert, used Showgirls as an example of “naive camp”. The scene he showed was supposed to be sexy and serious, but really it was silly and hilarious.  What can I say about a movie whose main character has the high aspiration of professionally licking dirty brass poles as a Las Vegas Stripper? I suppose can say that Nick Cage should force his forehead to watch it, instead of botox.
Enhanced by Zemanta

Related Posts:

Running with Ghosts

2 Replies
 
The Ghost of Maria Marten, who was murdered in...

Image via Wikipedia

A few months ago I wrote about one of my many forest ghost encounters.

But I found an equally frightening one when I was clearing the boxes of old books from my closet.  While reaching for a box, an old journal I used to keep when I lived in Santa Cruz, CA tumbled down from the shelf. It popped open onto an entry I tried to forget. The penciling was faint on brittle pages, but the memory of the encounter was vivid and sharp.

“It happened around dusk along the narrow trails at Fall Creek.  My run took a little longer than I anticipated. Started too late. It was getting dark fast.  I remember hearing the wisps of air flowing in and out of my lungs, the drips of water gliding over the stones, the chirps of birds flitting from the limb to limb, and the creepy low groans of the redwoods bending in the wind. I think that’s how they speak to each other.

Up to that point, it was a great autumn run. The temperature was perfect, there weren’t any bugs or hikers on the trail. I felt really good, happy to be alive. But then something wasn’t right.  A bolt of fear shot through my chest.  It drained me; I felt empty, alone, and afraid. An image took over my minds eye: a latino man in overalls was running away. He was bleeding from a board to head or something; he was caked in pale, grey dust. I felt his panic. He was frantic. Trying to escape.  It was strange. I felt like my mind was being controlled, the images were being inserted into it. I had no choice but to look. When I closed my eyes the vision was brighter, when I kept them open, I could see normally, but the images were still there, simultaneous. I could see them and the trail, but they were separate.

Suddenly, I heard someone, someone REAL, running toward me on the trial.  I watched in terror as the bushes onto the trail spread open and the man who was in mind burst from them. He charged toward me, but didn’t seem to recognize of perceive me;  I jumped off of the trail to let him pass. As he ran, he kept turning his head to see behind himself. Soon, I knew why. Two men also in overalls and covered in the same pale dust were chasing him. They were thick, burly, men with strong jaws and crooked noses. One had a heavy bludgeon of some sort, the other a hammer. They too didn’t seem to notice me as ran past me. My heart was blasting, but I decided to run in their direction anyway. As soon as made it around the corner, I saw the two larger men standing over the latino. His head was was a mess of gore and bone. The two men just stood over him satisfied, there bloodies tools swinging gently back and forth. I said, “Hey! Hey!” But they remained where they were. I came closer, “Hey!, Hey!” I yelled. As they turned, piece by piece each one slowly merged into the scenery. The dark stains in their overalls became the weird shadows of leaves, mangled head resolved into the red moss and mud, the filthy hair became pine needles.

I sprinted the rest of the way to my car. Just as I got to my car the light was gone; the forest was black. It was good to be off the trail; those weren’t the only spirits lurking is the darkness. ;0)

Enhanced by Zemanta

Related Posts:

Ghosts of Santa Cruz

4 Replies
 

The Haunted Coast.

They say the California Central Coast is full of ghosts, that with the mists, clouds, and fog the sea brings apparitions. You never feel quite alone near the sea, especially when the hazy light fades.

I’ve felt the touch of spirits, good and bad. The good, on one of my trial runs at UCSC. It was mid day but a type of fog the natives call “pogonip” covered the sun. It filled the forest with cool drizzle. The damp charged the scent of eucalyptus and bay leaf. As I emerged from the tree covered path and entered the meadow, a burst of sun beams broke through the fog; they shined through the hole in the clouds above me. It was as if a window to heaven had opened up. I was stunned; I stopped running and just looked up in amazement at the mysterious portal. A rush of warm air blasted down. It smelled of fresh roses, strawberries, and mint. With the scent came an overcoming thrill of joy. I laughed. When I came to my senses, the portal had closed. I inhaled deeply, then continued my run. From that point onward, I had the distinct sense that someone watching over me. It was a little discomforting at first because it was so pronounced and lasted for weeks. I felt self-conscious taking showers, going to restroom, and doing other personal things. Either I got used to feeling or it went away.

A few days later, a daydreaming mother of three side swiped my Corolla. After the impact, I stepped from my car to find out if the woman who hit me was OK. She and her children were fine. I returned to my vehicle to retrieve my insurance information. Just before reaching into my glove compartment, I felt a presence tugging on my shoulder, urging me to step away from the car. I looked at the road, but it was clear. Nevertheless, the pressure to get off of the road overcame me. I left the insurance information in the car and walked to the curb. As soon as I got to the curb a huge SUV zoomed around the corner and slammed into my car, completely wrecking it.

The other supernatural encounter I had at UCSC was not so positive. It was downright frightening. And I hope it never happens again. It was about a week before the angel came to me. I was hiking across the street from family student housing. It’s an “off limits” hidden trail. The hike started out pleasant enough. I crossed a dilapidated bridge, then spied an inviting side trail. It was narrow had clovers and wild strawberries on the sides. Soon the vegetation gave way to looming redwoods, which darkened the path considerably. As I followed the trail, a growing sense of dread emerged. It got to point where I was in a panic, almost overcome with terror. I felt as I would lose my mind if stepped further, as if some malicious presence would take control. My hair raised, my heart raced. An alarm was triggered in me; it told me told me run, to get the hell out of there ASAP! But when I tried to run, I couldn’t. I was frozen in place. I tried to yell, but my voice didn’t work. Then I heard a branch snap near a ring of huge, ominous Redwoods. I know no one else was on that trial. Whatever had snapped the twig wasn’t human or animal. I knew I could not be alone with it. But I couldn’t move and I knew it was approaching. I forced myself to imagine a peregrine falcon (my totem animal) flying overhead. The grip of terror broke. I bolted off the trail and ran home.

A few days later, I decided to run an experiment, I took someone else with me to the same area, determined not to venture as far this time. I did not tell her what had happened to me the last time I went there. Sure enough, the person I was with had the same alarm signals go off. She turned to me and said, “This place is evil. We need to go.”

These are the places of power, some good, some evil. Their energy cannot be denied. Tread barefoot, it’s easier tell which is which.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Related Posts: