Posts Tagged ‘love’


Photo: Christopher Dunlea

When it rains it pours, shit runs down hill and all that jazz.  The last time I wrote something here I was rather optimistic about life and the world; my life specifically.  OPTIMISM!!! What word, what a dangerous mother fucking word.  It implies that with good thoughts, feelings and hopes good things will be brought about.  Maybe this works for some people. No one I know in particular, but some delusional idiot out there lives by this crap.

Even a pessimistic realist like myself falls into these optimistic ideals on occasion.  It always happens to me when my life starts actually turning around.  Then again had life really turned around for me or was I just starting to believe the lies in order to come to grips with the settlement my life had become?  There were the lies I told myself and the ones that the machine of conformity claimed would bring me happiness.  I am one for total honesty when it comes to oneself, but then again there are times when one needs to believe his own lies in order to accomplish certain goals and ultimately in this mess of an oxymoron a new truth may be achieved.

While I am at it let’s briefly touch on how I feel about the idea of happiness.  I have always subscribed to the thoughts of Aldous Huxley “Happiness is never grand…Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the over-compensations for misery. And of course, stability isn’t nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt…Happiness is never grand.”  This quotation is basically how my life has played out since birth.  If you have been reading here a while then you know.  If not, feel free to indulge yourself for I am not going to bore myself or my loyal readers with my own redundancy (that’s a fucking joke).  Shit I have not written anything for months so I suppose I need to make it count.


Ah the sweetness of adversity Photo: Christopher Dunlea

Now that we got all that philosophical crap out of the way lets get into exactly what has happened in my life over the past four months.  Believe me a lot must have been going on if I was left nearly speechless by it all.  Some one who existed briefly, yet had a major impact on my life recently said that she found it rather odd that I only share the good side of things on my social media.  Clearly she never read this blog for I am the anti-hero of my own story, a modern Sydney Carton waiting to give his life for his beloved Lucie Manette.  Fuck how often am I positive about myself here? To be honest the pain, misery and suffering I had been going through had me so mentally crippled I was for once in my life at a loss of words or at the very least decent words to delineate my situation.  I also have to blame El Nino as well cause if you frequently read the surflog or just surf in California you know how good it has been here in the 805.


Oh it’s been fun! Photo Christoper Dunlea

I guess the best place to begin my tale is in the middle of October.  At this point of my life everything was looking splendid and grand.  Things at work were going well.  I had recently got a solid raise.  My bosses were pumped on me.  I had the respect and esteem of all of my employees.  The food we were producing was in my opinion the best we ever had done in my six year tenure at the college.  I was working with my best friend Bizarro and watching him develop as a cook, which gave me a real sense of kin.  Life was good.

Yet there was something missing I just couldn’t put my finger on. Although production was at an all time high, quality good and waste low I still knew we could do better.  I live by the code of the samurai striving for complete perfection and mastery of whatever I wish to consummate.  “So many aspire to greatness yet so few succeed.”  Maybe I got too full of myself.  My ego can be a bit ridiculous at times.  I might have pushed the kitchen and management too hard.  I don’t really know how it all fell apart, though looking back now I have an idea.  We are not there yet and I don’t want to get ahead of myself.  I may not have wrote for a bit, but I think upon the conclusion of this piece you be happy I waited.


I will stand by my food with my life.

“Hindsight is 20/20” and in life I have always had eagle eyes.  Like I said work was good.  Life was good.  I was surfing a bunch and well. Biz and I were shooting tons of photos.  On the party scene I finally climbed to the top of my circle.  It certainly helped having a bit of disposable income around.  In my personal life I wised up to a certain entity that had been bringing me down for years.  It wasn’t her fault or mine we just kept ignoring the writing on the wall and our own good sense.  Certain instances took place that I am not going to mention, but opened my eyes and saw that as a couple we were never going to go anywhere and although we had found a livable groove that could have went on for another five years, I needed more.
party1I’m a romantic, a Shakespearean, an avid reader of Jane Austin.  For these reasons alone I could no longer exist in a relationship of convenience.   Finally after spending the bulk of September agonizing over what to do I took a deep breath and cut the cord.  I emotionally freed myself from the cage I put myself in two and a half years ago.  Man, it was scary.  As most of you know I am not a person who does well alone.  One thing I have always held true to is that I would much rather be alone for the right reasons then with some one for the wrong reasons.  Loneliness, vulnerability and depravity by themselves are not good enough reasons to pursue a life with another if there is no magic.  Thus I walked away standing tall and proud of the decision I made.

Once again I found myself single.  The dating world had changed quite a bit from when I was in the game.  It is very possible that I had changed a bit too, now in my mid thirties and having very different needs and wants then I ever had before.  For the first time in my life the thought a family crossed my mind when meeting a woman.  I wanted someone I didn’t have to save or constantly help get out of trouble.  I didn’t want to regularly have to turn negative vibes into positive ones.  I really wanted to learn from my past.  Luckily I analyze the shit out of my life and especially my romantic escapades.

I wasn’t perfect either.  In the past I had ruined more then one possible great relationship by being a total ass, selfish, immature or all three.  My temper has always been a problem.  I am Italian after all and we are very passionate people in all aspects of our life.  Temper is definitely a flaw  I am most guilty of.  Over the years I have made great efforts to control such.  There is still a long way to go. We are all works in progress till death comes knocking at that door, probably sooner then later for me.

Ultimately I wanted a relationship with more substance, a person with more substance.  I wanted someone in the industry.  People in my field constantly work crazy hours, nights, weekends, holidays.  This makes having a relationship with someone in the 9-5 world nearly impossible.  When you are off they are working.  When they are off you are working.  When you get off at 10 pm you want to drink a glass of wine, maybe go out, eat a meal. The 9-5’er is already in bed.  On the weekends when they want to rage most likely a member of the hospitality industry isn’t getting off till midnight. It becomes a real strain on both parties.

I thought about other cooks or chefs, but we all have egos and mine is heavier then most.  I knew unless I found the most passive chef  we would kill each other.  I put my sights on the front of the house, waitresses, hostesses, bartenders, managers, etc.  Also let it be said I wanted at least six months to pass before I met anyone else.  Even though my former relationship had been technically dead when we broke off our engagement nearly a year prior we still stayed together for another year of emotional dolor.  By all psychological accounts I needed time to heal.

Day in and day out I went upon my everyday.  As much as I hated the world of internet dating I got back on that horse again to no more avail then I had the first go around.  The difference was I had grown a thicker skin and didn’t really take anything too seriously.  If I met someone cool, awesome and if not at least I got out of the house and made a new possible connection.  One should try to make at least six contacts a day according to many very successful people at life in general.  I had a bit of fun with it all this time around.  Why not have fun? We only get one go around.

My life was good.  That almost brings us up to the fated  blog of optimism I published on November 17th 2015: “A Fresh Start“. Not quite entirely, not even a little bit.  During the aforementioned foray with dating through a digital medium I managed to meet someone whom I began to feel rather smitten for.  I believe she did as well.  The chemistry between us was about the best I have ever felt between a member of the opposite sex and myself.  We had enough in common to be compatible, though not so much as for it to get boring.   There were complimentary strengths and weaknesses existing among us as to be advantageous to both.  The two of us looked good together as a couple both having impeccable fashion sense and good taste (yeah mostly her, my tastes are still very much on the Guido side of things.  You know the saying: “take the kid out of Jersey, but never take the Jersey out of the kid”).


Like I said “Guido”

We genuinely got along.  With all of these aspects of a budding romance in play I decided to legitimately pursue the relationship breaking my six month rule I had set earlier.  There will always exist a spoiler to such rules in this life.  For that spoiler always has been if I think I met someone who could actually be “the one”.  Cupid doesn’t time when he shoots his arrows and I have let plenty of opportunities for love pass me by cause I  ignored his call in order to sort out a different directive.  The impetuous modern day version of Romeo I can be at times threw all caution to the wind and went for it.  By the time I posted “A Fresh Start” I was very much in love and in the midst of a torrid romance.

For weeks I was in a blissful rouse of jovial spirit.  As a matter of fact I couldn’t remember a time when I was more happy.  Its funny how amazing life is when you feel everything is going your way.  I didn’t have a care in the world.   Nothing lasts forever and as fast as love had come to me that was as fast the pitiful wrath of its ending also abounded.  How it all came crashing down at such a hastened pace was beyond me and the downward spiral it would cause was soon to be realized…


Photo: Christopher Dunlea

Stay tuned for more of this most recent saga of my life soon….

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Human existence is one of those entities I find so mysterious and utterly intriguing.  Everyone is so different yet at the same time so alike.  I just don’t understand anything about the world around me most of the time and as I get older care less to know.  It seems the more I try to figure out whats going on the more lost and frustrated I become.  Instead I try and go along for the ride and see how life unfolds around me acting and reacting accordingly.

That is exactly what I decided to do that faithful Thursday evening back in October and where we last left off a little over a week ago.  Camus wrote a very intriguing short story entitled The Stranger about a wrongfully accused and convicted man the night before his scheduled execution.  The whole premise of the story is him coming to terms with excepting the fact that he is powerless in his situation to alter his fate and that he is going to die.  Once this is realized he becomes rather at ease.

As I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, razor in hand, suit laid out on my bed that was just what went through my head.  I was prepared to except my fate no matter what the outcome may have been.  If I was to show up and meet Heather then I really had no control over what was going to happen.   In the end it was to be her call.  I needed it to be. I didn’t want to sell her on me, plea a case of why we should be together or persuade her to change her mind.  I wanted her to either want to be with me because she loved me and wanted to build a life with me or let it burn and we would move on with our lives separately.

No matter the outcome I was resolved to be strong for if she truly was happier without me then I would be happy for her.  It would be a bummer for me.  Such is life.  I had done everything I possibly could have.  The matter was finally out of my hands.  As I showed up at her door with me was my final poem to her, maybe the best one I have ever composed.  I coupled it with an orchid, the highest most sophisticated flower a man should ever give a woman and not one to be gifted nonchalantly.

This poem I planned to read to her personally from my heart with my voice.  That was just what I did.  She cried, we hugged and then we went to dinner.  I took her to this mellow little spot on Carrillo St., Roy’s.  The food is pretty average but the atmosphere is very inviting and rather intimate making it a perfect date spot.  Price wise it wont break your bank (by Santa Barbara standards) and they have a rather decent wine list.  It seemed like the perfect place for what was to take place.

I must admit I was really nervous, more so then I had ever been.  It took all my self control to keep from shaking at times.  Our conversation and interaction was palatable to give me some hope, although my instincts told me the out come would be not all I was hoping for.  I presented my thoughts and feelings.  When I concluded she handed me a letter.  I took it and put it in the breast pocket of my jacket to read at a later time.

She said she still needed more time, maybe till January or longer to sort things out.  This was the answer I was expecting.  At first I lost my composure.  I kind of feel like anyone with a heart would have.  I got a little defensive and a bit on the angry side.  The whole idea seemed prosperous to me.  We had only been together seven months and nothing catastrophic had passed between us that would warrant such a break.

The explanation was she needed to time to regroup and take her life back.  I told her we should make the most out of the night if it was to potentially be our last night together.  “Let’s pass this night together as lovers and then walk away in the morning as distant acquaintances”.    We enjoyed our meal.  There was some heavy emotion on both sides as can be expected of such.  Afterward I took her down to the beach.  I had gotten a bottle of champagne, one of my favorites and decided to blow my sax for her a bit.  Heather had never heard me play before.

My music is a very personal thing for me and ever since I got out of doing it for a living I tend to keep my performances few and far between.  When I do play, especially these days it’s in rather obscure instances, such as out on the beach at 12 am.  The air had a cold nip in it that night.  I wrapped her in blankets and played a few of my favorite standards and one of my own.  I do believe it had quite an effect over her.

The rest of the night and early morning passed slowly although not slow enough.  As I laid there in bed and she was sleeping on my chest I wished I had the power to stop time.  That I could stay in that moment forever.  It is not in the power of man to do such things nor would it be poignant to.  Time most move on.  Right before I closed my eyes I accepted this and knew that no matter what happened from there that I would always have that moment in my heart forever.  If I could remember the shrouded felicity that passed between us, then I could always look back on the time spent with her in a positive manner.

The next morning I watched her walk out of my life, possibly forever.  The plan was to meet at a certain location at a certain time on New Years Day if either of us felt so inclined.  Until then there was to be no contact.  If we were going to take a break it had to be a real break this time.   I stood in the doorway of my apartment and listened till I could no longer hear her footsteps on the pavement.  A sense of melancholy set in.  Sure, there was always New Years, but the reality was it was not a reality at all, but a fantasy to help deal with the pain.

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Chris Lisanti & Alfie

Well about a month ago I started to tell a tale about Heather and I in “Whats Been Goin Down in Lisanti Land” blog.  Since then I pretty much have fallen off the face of the earth as far as blogging is concerned.  Although that is not entirely true.  If you are an avid reader of the surflog then you already know most of what I am about to impart here. In that case consider it a more in depth recap of a very strange, emotional and trying month in Lisanti Land.  Those of you who have been on the edge of your seat I really hope you didn’t fall off.

When I last left off Heather and I had decided to take a break or more like she decided she needed more time for that break.  I did my usual grieving and spent the weekend at the Wild Cat finding my way to fancy town with Bizarro and the usual regulars.  I had by that point just about written the relationship off.  Fuck, I am a pessimistic person after all.  Its so much easier to figure you are going to get screwed in the long run.  This way if you do get screwed at least you knew it was coming and if you don’t then you are pleasantly surprised.

It all started at work on the Monday after the above mentioned Wild Cat romp.  I was lamenting of my pathetic situation as most despondent poets and love enthusiasts do in such a situation to my buddy Hugo.  Hugo to his credit has been with his girl friend for about a year or so and in his own way is rather romantic about it.  If he reads this he will probably shank me for stating that.  He told me straight forward “If you love her then fight for her”.  I didn’t really know what to do or how to do it.

She wanted a break and space.  How could I manage to make contact with her with out violating those wishes?  Then the gears started to turn in my head.  I immediately went to Shakespeare and re-read Romeo and Juliet.  Alas that romance would not do for it did not apply to us.  I thought harder into my archives and then it hit me.   As You Like It, was the perfect place to start.  Just as Orlando went into the forest of Arden to woo Roslyn I to would take up my quest to the West Side of Santa Barbara for my Heather.   I hate to say it, but I think I would rather spend a night in the Forest of Arden then on the West Side.

I know I denounced flowers and poetry years ago after failed attempts with both Adrienne and Vespera.  Then again that is the language of love.  At first you don’t succeed, try, try again.  With that on my mind I proceeded. It also helps to note that I figured I had lost her forever anyway thus what harm could a little courteous harassment do? I decided that at seven days before we were to meet I was going to leave her a flower and poem a day on her doorstep every morning.

Flowers in Victorian times, when matters of the heart and lust were done more discreetly held many different meanings to their beholder.  I started with a singe yellow rose for friendship on the first day with a small poem and elaborated every day after.  I was making custom bouquets, hand picking cards from this salvage shop downtown that went with the message I wanted to convey.  I even potted a small arrangement in her grandmother’s antique flower pot she had left in my yard.

Mentally I was barely sustaining through all of this. On one end the effort put forth gave me a sense of hope.  On the other a higher sense of despair.  We were suppose to get together on a Thursday, but a deadline at work had her unable to meet me.  Discouraged, yet not put off I rescheduled for that Saturday, 10/19.  An alarming email sent by her to me, which I may have looked into a bit too hasty caused me to cancel and reschedule for that following Tuesday.  That’s the problem with email its way to vague.  I hate technology.  Lets just go back to horse and buggy times.

Years ago I scored Santa Cruz with Mauriello.  This was Middle Peak at Steamer Lane.  On this swell it could have been just as good if not better

Years ago I scored Santa Cruz with Mauriello. This was Middle Peak at Steamer Lane. On this swell it could have been just as good if not better

Then I got hit up Sunday morning by Mauriello claiming quite the NW swell was to hit his way.  All signs pointed to Santa Cruz being epic.  If I was to go I would have had to bail Monday night after work and not bet back into the Barb till that Thursday.  The allure of scoring some of my favorite SC spots was very appealing.  I almost pulled the trigger on it.  If I were to blow Heather off yet again what kind of message would that have sent?  

After much deliberation I decided for once in my life to go with my heart and not my crazy surf addiction.  I regrettably declined John’s generous offer to score three days of what could have been some epic surfing.  My life has been full of amazing waves and as hard as it was to not grab a few more I knew there would be plenty more opportunities to get barreled in my life.  If I had blown off Heather that could have been my last chance.  To my devote surfing readers believe me the decision sounds crazy.  At some point in life surfing will not be able to fill your every need and want.

At this point in my life surfing although is still at the forefront of everything for me it is not my end all be all.  Consequently the surf was absolutely shit here in the 805 during the time span I was suppose to be scoring up north.  As it turned out Heather ended up canceling on me due to her not feeling so well.  I knew she was not blowing me off.  When you were with some one for as long as I was with Heather and as intimate, you know when they are telling the truth or not.  We rescheduled yet again for Thursday, 10/24.   At that point I was bummed I had not just pulled the trigger on the Nor’Cal’ trip.  While I stayed home and agonized John charged size-able Ocean Beach.

Ok, I dont think it was this unruly, but Mauriello lives for this shit.  Nothing but big cold closed out barrels !

Ok, I dont think it was this unruly, but Mauriello lives for this shit. Nothing but big cold closed out barrels!

Thursday came and I must say that I woke up with an air of calm relief that if was finally time to face my demons.  Yet at the same time I was as nervous and anxious as I have not been in some time.  Unfortunately my shitty boss roped me into working the early shift by pulling a dick move and putting me on the schedule for the AM shift with out telling me.  I work and have been working pretty much the same schedule for the last four years.  That being the case there is no point in me checking the schedule ever.  Since I didn’t check it if I didn’t show up it would have reflected as an attendance demerit.  After so many demerits you get a write up and after too many write ups you get fired.

At the moment I am on somewhat thin ice as it is.  One because I can’t help but flap my mouth around when things are bull shit.  Two because this whole Heather situation has had my attention and concentration highly diverted, not to mention my nerves and patience lacking.  Three my drinking problem which I developed post Adrienne makes me a liability at times.  All my higher ups need is a valid excuse to can my ass with out my being able to go to human relations and demand a fair labor hearing.  Isn’t working for a big corporation awesome! If I get fired I am going to have to move on to my back up plan which is sucking dick for crack and then selling the crack for a profit.  As glamorous as that life sounds I think I will pass on it.

I pulled myself through a shitty work day made worse by the feeling of the unknown of what the out come of the evening would be.  I am talking beyond butterflies.  I could not even eat.  When 3:30 came I planned on bolting home and getting prepared both physically and mentally for the evening.  As I was cleaning up my station around 2 pm I got a text from Ryan that Rincon looked fun.  No matter the verdict of the night I thought there no harm in bailing out of work an hour early to go score some fun Rincon.  Lets face it nothing makes me feel better then a good session at the Queen of the Coast.

No matter what life sends me its all left on the beach especially when that beach is Rincon.

No matter what life sends me its all left on the beach especially when that beach is Rincon.

I got a few fun ones up at Indicator and River Mouth and for at least an hour I was able to forget my problems.  Or lack there of respective to people who have real problems in life.  To each their own.  The starving kid in Africa wishes he had the scraps thrown away by a low income American, who intern wishes he could eat filet mignon.  Meanwhile the rich recollect on those bygone days when he was young and free and not so tied down by all his worldly assets.  Its all relative.  With a better mindset I drove home ready to face whatever my fate would be….

****To be continued.  I know what an asshole I am.  First I don’t write anything for over a month and then I leave you with a cliff hanger.  Well read the old surf logs from October and November if you really can’t wait.  Its late now and I’m tired.   The rest of the story is pretty good and I do promise all the feeling and emotion that may have been graced over in the surf log and even some hindsight looking back over the situation. In the meantime here is a cute picture of Alfie to tide you over.*****

Black Cat with Crazy Hair

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I got big things to say here really soon.  I know I took a break for about a week or so.  I must say it was well needed.  As everyone knows I like to stew on just about everything that happens in my life.  I finally have an explanation for that.  I am not going to give that out tonight.  Nah….  I am however going to write about this song “Somebody I Used to Know” by Gotye.  You will just have to hold your breath and wait for the next News From Lisanti Land for the big story.  Please don’t hold your breath I don’t want anyone to die on my account, although I am pretty sure unless you put a plastic bag over your head or a louse around your neck the human body will force you to breath.

This song was actually introduced to me about two months ago by a lady friend who despite all my attempts to make her become someone I used to know has managed to still stay an unhealthy part of my life.   Let me rephrase that.  She may actually be a very healthy part of my life at the moment.  I don’t really know and truth be told has been one of the many things I have been stewing on for some time.   Shit I have been stewing so long on this one it might have broken the crock pot.

She was obsessed with the song and after hearing it a few times I really did enjoy the groove.   After some research I found out apparently Gotye is doing all the work on the tune himself.  I have to respect a man who can proficiently play everything.  Since then I have heard the song in saturation, on the radio, at the club etc.  Still I found it rather enjoyable to listen to.  My cooking partner in crime and I always turn the shit up in the kitchen when it comes on.

Last week I actually stopped and listened to all the lyrics and realized how beautifully terrible they were.  Then I realized how fitting they were to my own life and most other people.  Nursing a broken heart is not easy as many know, although I feel these days romance has eluded the majority of the population, but that is another blog for another day.  When a relationship ends that maybe one thought was the love of his life it is a terrible blow.  Its only happened to me three times and as much as it stung it made me realize a ton about myself.

Its really hard to understand yourself till your are tested.  Ironically, and we all know how much I love irony, that was what the Christians always told me that short stint I spent in there rapture.  They  said I was being “tested”.  Their God was not for me, but once again I feel I have passed the test.   Here I am a year later still here and going strong.  For the first time in a long time I believe I know what I want.  You will have to wait a day or so for that answer.

Adrienne crushed me.  You know what I let her.  Not making any excuses for her behavior cause it was unacceptable on any level of human decency.  I never really expressed how I felt about her till it was too late.  That is where this song comes in.  “You can  become addicted to a certain type of sadness”.  You know I had become addicted to feeling sorry for myself  and the subsequent depression.  Everyone around me got tired of it so I ostracized myself.  Who lost out? I did.

Then the female singer comes in at the end and she presents her side of the case and it put everything in perspective for me.  While I pine over the good times we had, Adrienne looks back at all the times I was a son of a bitch to her.  Despite everything we had together it is over.  No matter how sad I get or how pathetic I am or whatever she will never be in my arms again.  In her head it was two years of misery.    In the end I guess she really is just “Somebody  I Used to Know”.

Thank you Gotye for putting everything in perspective for me.  Thank you everyone here for indulging in my ridiculousness.   Stay tuned for my new plan in life.  For now enjoy Gotye.

This is pretty cool too:

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As everyone knows I have been hurting a bit these days.  For a while I was puting all the pain into my novel, but as of late decided to take a step back from that project.  I was finding it hard to get pages finished.  A writer friend of mine told me I should leave it alone for a bit and then come back to it.  About three nights ago I was feeling rather depressed.  It happens to the best of us.  I don’t really know what happen next.  This Stanley Jordan song came up on my ipod’s shuffle and the words started to flow.  I have not written a short story in some time.  Maybe it is a pre-amble to something greater.  All I can say is putting it on paper really helped me to clear my head.  I don’t know if its any good, probably just a string of incoherent garbage.  You can be the judge.  I have not had too much writing on here as of late so I figured I would share something different as an apology for that.  Enjoy.

The Bitter End

 He heard the angry clacking of her heels on the sidewalk. The sound slowly got more faint as she walked off into the distance.  Why did she leave?  Why did he let her?  Why was he not the one to leave her?  Why had his heart just sunk into his chest leaving him feeling weak?  “You have so much potential, but I can’t sit here and watch you destroy yourself any longer.”

Those were the words that stuck with Joe. “I don’t love you anymore, I never really did”.  He did not say a word to that.  To any of it for that matter.  He just sat there and listened.  It was almost as if he was not there, but floating above the whole scene.  All the screaming, arguing and the crying.  He did not even feel the pain or blood slowly trickling down the knuckles of his steadily swelling hand.

No, all he could think about was the fact that he would never see her again, never smell her hair next to him when he woke up in the morning, never experience the warmth of her naked body pressed up against his after being satiated by the heat of the passion they once had for each other.  It was over, really over this time.  Not like all the others when she had walked out and came back a few hours or a day or two later.  He did not know for sure, but was almost certain.

There is this extra sensory that couples develop for one another after a sufficient amount of time passes.  They can just sense the thoughts and emotions of the other.  That is one of the remarkable mysteries of love.  He had pushed her limits too far this time.  Joe knew it.

She had loved him once he thought, even if she said otherwise.  Why is it when two lovers split up they always have to say the most hurtful things.  She had to love him once right?  Why else would she have stayed with him for all those years?  She was there when he was on top of the world and when it all came crashing down.  She nursed him back to health when he was bed ridden with an unknown illness.  She always put his needs first.

She had to have loved him at least once.  Maybe she still did.  He would never know now.  She would not come back.  He knew that.  And he would not go after her.  There he sat paralyzed on the dirty front porch of his apartment, their apartment at one time.  He did not care that the dirt would soil and possibly ruin the designer beige and cream pinstripe suit he had tailored for him.  He did not care about the fact that his hand was broken or the subsequent hole in the wall.

She would not come back.  One tear fell from his right eye.  Just one.  The tin man finally got his heart.  She never really knew how he felt for her.  He was never able to express it.  He thought at times his actions may have shown it.  What did that matter now? Water under the bridge.  She would not come back. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

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I know this is going to shake a few trees with this month’s Power of Ten.  First let me say these were some of the best lists submitted as of yet.  I had to literally spend the last two weeks on who I wanted to pick.  Then a new contender entered the ring and she came out swinging.  Maybe that is how the crowd felt when they saw Babe Ruth point to the left field bleachers and hit one out of the park the first time.  Fifi gets two points for her efforts, but then again not surprising when she dates UCB all star Mauriello.   All the lists I got this month were gold so if you did not get the win maybe tweak it a little more for next month.

1.  Your Hair: I assume she is talking about my hair since it is my blog and not just hair in general.  I have a vain obsession with my hair.  I should have been bald already, that did not happen.  I rocked long hair from when I was 14 all the way until now (well I guess my hair is still longer for most guys, but it seems short to me).  I have always pride myself on the up keep of my own hair.  Hair on your head does nothing for warmth or very little from what I have read.  It was given to us to enhance each and every person’s individuality.  As a result I have always had the utmost respect for hair stylists, artists in their own right.  I tend to be a heavy tipper in general but let me tell everyone your hair dresser is not one to stiff.  I leave mine 30%.  Despite my hairs straw like texture I would not trade it for anything in the world.

2. Girls You Think Are “The One” Then End Up Being Lame:  This could be an entire blog, shit it has been running around in my head for the last six months.  I have been bitching about romance and my pain for some time now so I will spare everyone for the moment, although I am in the process of formulating a piece on love that may be one of my best works since “One Last Perfect Day” and “Bowing Out“.  I love and truly believe in the whole concept of “The One” and that everyone is meant to meet their “One and Only” and when they do both parties male and female will know it.  There will be none of that stupid game playing bullshit.  For me I fall hard when I meet a woman that I find compatible, do everything in my power to keep them safe, happy and satiated.  In the end they are never content and always want more leaving me alone and miserable.   I would not call any of them lame though.  They would not have hurt me so badly if they were lame.  Things did not work out.  I was not the man for any of them.  All I think is that I hope they find all the happiness they are searching for and could not see in me.

3. People Who Don’t Dress Up When They Go Out: There was a time less then sixty years ago when peoples casual clothes were better then what we today call “dressed up”.  I love to dress up and I love to flash even more.  I have a closet full of threads and 13 pairs of shoes.  Still I am never satisfied with my wardrobe.  Dressing up is part of the fun of going out.  Picking out what to wear then wondering what everyone else will wear.  In today’s sad world I go out to the bar looking like class and more then half the crowd is is looking like trash.  Sure I can understand it at a dive bar, but if you are at an en vogue spot beach attire is inappropriate.  I wore a suit out the other night and was looking sharp.  Some guy came up to me in a t-shirt, poor fitting cheap Kmart jeans and sneakers then proceeded to give me a hard time on what I was wearing.  My roommate’s girl friend tried to tell me I look like I am trying to hard.  Shoots I just want to look good.  Ladies when you don a sexy but classy dress, designer heels and do yourself up all beautiful my outfit is then a complement to you.  It blows my mind when I see a woman dressed to the nines with some guy in a white t-shirt and baseball cap at the club.  What happened to class people?

4.  The Texture of Cat’s Bellies: Cats stomachs are gnarly.  They just sort of hang down all soft.  My Grandmother would not pick up cats cause she claimed it felt like she could feel their insides.  Plus when they eat too much their stomach expands to a strange little ball.  Its odd for sure but fun to pet at the same time.  My family’s cat Hercules is a conniving little bastard and will roll over on his back so that you can scratch his belly, but when you do he grabs your hand with his paws and bites. Cats are interesting creatures.

5.  Girls Who Make You Pick Them Over Surfing:  For me this does not happen.  I tell women that I am with as soon as things start getting serious that surfing has been with me before them and will be with me after them.  My whole life has revolved around surfing. With out it I am not complete.  If you really surf and are not just one of those “I surf once a month or less” types you know what I am talking about.  When I am not surfing or at work, my girlfriend when I have one always gets the rest of my time and these days if the surf is terrible she can have that time too.  Ask me to choose and I am leaving with my board in hand.

6. Wine Under $5: I must first address the fact that Kooky Kyle had this on his Power of Ten as well.  Normally that would make a list void, but I do not think Fifi saw Kooky’s list in the comments so I am allowing it and it is my blog thus I can do whatever I want.  There are great wines in every price range, but it is true the pricier the wine the better the quality if you know what you are looking for.  I personal at the moment cant spend more then $14 a bottle, that is because I drink about a case a week and am renovating the apartment.  I have a few gems I enjoy under $5 before tax.  The key is to look for sales.  I have been buying this really good Chianti cause it has been marking down from $18 to $6.  I am going to actually start a new edition to Recipe D’Jour where I will list wines I think are worth drinking cause it has come to my attention that most people are clueless when it comes to picking a nice wine and since I do go to a lot of tasting and such have a bit more exposure to the scene then your average bear.

7. Cooking for Children: I learned how to cook at very young age and as a result found a love for the kitchen.  I think everyone should teach kids some basic cooking techniques at age ten.  Maybe just simple things like how to boil water and cook some pasta, heat up a bit of sauce out of a jar.  Give them a bit of understanding of the dangers of being careless around heat.  As far as cooking meals for children I believe in comfort food, Hot dogs, chicken fingers/nuggets, ham burgers, pasta, peas and carrots, fish sticks, pizza etc.  Then as their pallets begin to develop try to slip in other dishes that have similar characteristics.  Chicken fingers can easily be made into chicken parmigiana, which is almost a combination off pizza and chicken fingers.  I see too many parents try to force their kids to eat adult food too soon and then turn the kids off to certain flavors and even entire meat groups.  It takes time for our pallets to develop.  I hated veal as a kid and now I find it quite the scrumptious culinary treat.

8.  Towels Out of the Dryer: I was just thinking about this one the other day as I was pulling my beach towels out of the dryer.  They are amazing.  There is something about taking a towel out of dryer and sticking your face into it.  It is sooo soft and warm.  Sometimes I wrap my entire body in it right there in the laundry room.  Back when I lived in the frat  my neighbor walked in on me enjoying a freshly washed and dried towel right there in the garage.  Our eyes met and she nodded at me in approval.  What kind of monster would not like a freshly dried towel?

9.  Girls That Look Shrimpy But End Up Having Amazing Bodies: For starters I think most women have amazing bodies.  Everyone is shaped differently and have to play to their strengths.  If a girl has an amazing body but is coming up short and looking featureless then she needs to rethink her wardrobe.  I am not a stylist when it comes to women.  I know what looks good and what does not.  All I can say is my ex girl friend Adrienne was very good at dressing to her strengths being a more petite woman.     Guys do it too.  I am a bit skinny for a man so I built a wardrobe that plays to my strengths.

10. Why the “Power of Ten” is so successful: Fifi is rather new to the Lisanti sphere of influence and so are many of my new Word Press readers.  Back in the Myspace days I used to regularly write these types of blogs where I would just rant or project my insanity on multiple topics.  Also it ups the ante on the UCB contest and challenges me to be short winded on a plethora of topics.  Initially when I wrote the first one “Your a Fucking Idiot But So Am I” it was  because everyone was dumping UCB topics on me in massive lists.  I wrote this blog to prove that quality is better then quantity.  Unfortunately in America where the opposite is embraced the blog back fired and became an instant hit.  I have always been a believer in giving the public what they like.

There is a cat belly to be reckonned with.

Its all about dressing to your strengths.

No woman will ever take me from the barrel.

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This week’s UCB makes a winner of Nick the Kook with an old topic suggestion of “Family”  from I believe way back in August.  I have been mulling it over in my head literally for the last two months or so.  That is how you know you dropped a good topic when I stew on it for months.  Then again I stew on most things.  I think my life would be much easier if I just stopped thinking so much.  Maybe I just need to smoke more pot.  Kook earns one point for his efforts. Remember everyone November is half over so get your “Power of ten” lists in asap.

Its funny I really did not know how to approach this topic.  Initially I had dismissed it all together under the premise that I had written a similar blog back in the myspace.com days and that was if my memory serves me correct (it never does) was also a UCB and a rather negative take on the whole institution.  Well these days my thoughts are a bit different thus warranting another blog.

Blame it all on Chicken Enchilada Friday.  Last week I had to roll 834 enchiladas for dinner (if you are lost I run a small Mexican Station at the college I cook at for dinner Wednesday through Friday for more on that see  What it all Amounted to). Since I have been working at Westmont Enchilada days have been like a family affair.  Everyone in the kitchen pitches in and helps roll a few helping whomever has to make it happen on their menu finish in an hour rather then four.  It was my time of need and everyone helped me and it warmed my cold black heart  just a bit.

My Genetic Family

I spent the greater portion of my life hating my family.  I hated living with them, hated visiting, despised large family  gatherings such as holidays, weddings, or party’s.  Distance really does in my case make the heart grow fonder, as the phrase goes.  These days living in California completely across the country from the family I grew to hate, I have now grown to love once again.  I see my folks about once a year, maybe twice if I am lucky.  Its on the fault of both parties.  I hate New Jersey, which is where they live and they hate California, where I live.

Since we are a bunch of stubborn backward Italians no one bothers to compromise.  So I in recent years have actually made a trip home for the holidays to see my folks and even participate in a larger family Christmas gathering.  Its hard for me cause December is one of the few months where epic west swells are possible.  One year I missed near epic El Capitan, Sand Bar and Naples to visit my parents in South Florida where the waves were barely waist high.

You got me I was  bit sour on that one, but these days I have in my current vintage have reached a slightly heightened level of maturity (don’t worry I still spent about 30 minutes watching a flock of sea gulls fight off a flock of crows for a loaf of bread and loved every minute of it the other day.  If that proves anything of my “maturity,” see the surflog for more about that.).  With this recent yet minuscule ontogenesis in mentality I have come to realize that there are some things in life that are worth missing the occasional day of surfing for.  Heck these days I miss more sessions to alcohol abuse then I can keep track of (that is a lie they are all accounted for in the surflog so I can loath myself for my stupidity at a later date).

The fact of the matter is I love my family and it took moving across the country to realize just how important all of them are to me.  My parents raised me well.  I know right now I may not  the man I could be, but with the morals and good teachings instilled on me by them, when I gather the strength to pull my head out of my ass and achieve greatness it will be my family I thank first.  I actually do look forward to the few opportunities I get to visit and spend quality time with them and that is what all that time is now since it is so short, Quality Time.  I think we as people take for granted the ones closest to us and never realize just how much they actually mean to us till they are gone.

The Court of Lisanti Land

I have always kept a small yet tight nit group of friends around me.  These people I consider family even though they are not blood.  I would give my life for any of them as I would any of my actual blood relations.  I do every thing in my power to make sure they are in good spirit. Currently I have Kooky Kyle and my buddy Ryan living in my apartment for cheap, while I take on a bit of a financial loss.  having them here has been an amazing boost to my mental health and that one can not put a price tag on.  Over the summer I felt so alone and empty.

Now instead of coming home to a vacuous home my lair is bustling with activity.  Whether it is the entertaining antics of Kooky while he is stoned, or Ryan and his girl Addy enjoying each other’s company, the family meals Kooky and I prepare for everyone on Mondays and Tuesdays or when I bring left overs home from work and they jump on it.  I even enjoy the chorus of snores that come out of their room.  They brought life back to my somber cadaverous existence I was eking out.

Then there are my friends that live afar now but  once were active participants of the  court. Fact of the matter is if you have been a member of the court  and you know who you are then you are my family forever regardless of what goes down.    I have a few guys that I regularly surf with as well whom I would also consider family.  To me family are the people who help you to advance through life in a positive way. People who only want to see the best for you and don’t want to see you fall.  In a world full of scoundrels its nice to know I have so many genuine people around me.

A Family of My Own?!?

Ten years ago I would have rather have been raped by an electric eel then even have to think about starting a family.  Five years ago still not a twinkle in my eye.  Two years ago I was adamant on the topic.  The answer was always absolutely not.  These days as I watch the juncture of time pass by me empty and lonely I think a bit differently on the subject.  A wife, kids, some type of normal established life seems oddly appealing to me and yet at the same time completely unattainable.  Nor should I be aloud another chance.  I had mine and it passed.  Maybe it is only fair.  If my fate is to walk the earth for eternity alone so be it.  I will always have my court and their families to watch over.

My amazing family and I this past summer in NYC

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First off let me apologize to everyone for the lack of writing this month.  In my defense things have been a bit crazy with the play opening, my New Jersey/New York trip/performance, breaking in a new roommate and some other incidents in my personal life I have yet to address here.  All I can say is I have been busy for me. This weeks UCB makes a winner of my boy Kiefer, whom I got good and shitty with Saturday night.  He asked, “What is the most awkward situation I can remember being in”.


Awkward situations! Awkward situations?  My whole life is a series of awkward situations usually brought on by bad decisions.  I never have been a very good decision maker after all.  As everyone knows when faced with a logical option I in most cases will choose the illogical.  The propagation being I always want to see, as I like to put it “what could happen”.  Thus is why we have so many entertaining stories and moments in Lisanti Land.


Believe me this system works both positive and negative. Back to awkwardness, I find just about every social situation I enter into to be an awkward situation.  It sounds absurd right?  Its true, my coping mechanism used to be to avoid them like the plague.  Then one day a few years back I realized I was letting life pass me by and decided to step up, dig down deep, find some self-confidence and grab the world by my hands.


I find my worst moments of awkwardness always seem to revolve around women I care about, particularly when I make a frail attempt at actualizing my innermost feelings.  During the end days of Adrienne there were plenty of awkward moments including when I found out she was cheating on me.  When I showed up and met the guy she was cheating with to see what I was losing out too.  When I decided to try and win her back while she clearly had already made up her mind.  There is nothing more awkward then watching the person you love walk past you, smile, say goodbye and then go off to be with another.


Truthfully I don’t really care to dawn on that moment of my life anymore.  Looking back I know it was silly to let another bring me to my knees.  Now my life is amazing and I am happier then I have ever been.  They have that expression “God closes a door and opens a window.  In my case he torn down a wall and I could not be more grateful.


Kiefer asked for a story of awkwardness and thus far I have just talked out of my ass.  I am going to tell about the first kiss between Sindia (my ex-wife for my new readers who have not been following since ’06, yeah this shit has been running for over five years now!!) and I.  Nostalgia is great and I think it may have been the most awkward I have ever felt in my entire life.


I had been hanging out with Sindia for about two months with the predisposed hope of us dating.  We were both really backward in the department of romance.  Myself I was still carrying a chip on my shoulder from the atrocities performed towards me thanks to my very first girlfriend and her because she had never really been romantically involved with another.  Strong feelings had grown between the two of us, but neither had brought them to contrition and things were getting very awkward as a result of the confusion.


Finally I had reached my breaking point and knew I just had to step up.  We met my father down in Trenton, NJ to go see this jazz combo play.  It was a fun show and a good time was had by all.  We drove back to the shore and the whole drive both of us were completely silent.  I was nervous the entire night and now full on in understanding that I had to tell her how I felt was a near basket case of nerves.  My hands were shaking so much that I had to clutch the steering wheel with them both in a death grip.


Sindia and I got back to the beach where she had parked her car. I think we must have surfed before going to the show.  We ended up having one of those lingering goodbyes where you basically say your leaving more then ten times but no one actually goes anywhere.  Conversation had hit a complete impasse and the both of us were just gazing into each other’s eyes.  It was a perfect moment for me to kiss here, that I stewed on for nearly 15 minutes.


In her frustration Sindia blurted out “so what is the deal between us anyway? Are we friends or more or what?”  “DAMN, she beat me to the punch” I thought.  By that point it was nearly 2am and there was surf.  I mean the whole time we were sitting there we could see giant walls of white water in the darkness.  My fight or flight instincts had taken over and flight was winning.


The larger half of me was pushing for me to jump back into my car, drive away and never call her again.  My face was so red with embarrassment that I had blown the perfect moment I could have passed for a turnip.  After about another very awkward five minutes I responded with some nearly inaudible dribble pertaining to the fact that I thought we should be more then friends, after which we hugged then had this terrible teeth knocking kiss.  That was followed up by an almost proper kiss.


We both sort of looked at each other as soon as it was done with a bit of awe that we let things get to that point.  Next morning we met up for a surf way later then we should have even though it was going off cause we kept each other up till 3am trying to express our feelings for one another.  There you have it, the most awkward I have ever felt in my entire life.


On a side note for anyone wondering: Sindia now lives in Whales, UK and is I believe a world renowned Scientist in the field of chemical paleo-oceanography or something to those regards.  I never quite got her actual field of specialization.  We broke up on mutual terms I guess around four years ago.  Our lives were just going in different directions.  We still keep in touch and from what I can infer she is doing very well for herself in both life and love.  I could not be any happier for her.


As for me well I don’t feel I need to fill you in considering I write about everything here on a daily basis.  If your lost there are over 485 blogs on this website alone and thousands on the old myspace blog.   Go nuts reading if you feel that inclined.  All I will say is that I too am happy.

Now that is an Awkward situation....

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Well this morning we have a very special UCB for all you little kiddies out there in cyber world.  John Mauriello wins this week or I guess it really should have been last week, but I dont really give a fuck cause its my shitty ass blog and I will do what I want to.  Anyway he asked about my new found passion for lurking.  Sure he posted it about a month ago, but it was very appropriate to the situation.  If this is a bit incoherent it is because I have a little bit of the bad medicine in me (rum).

I think first off I will start with the dictionary meaning for lurking and it reads as such: ” to lie or wait in concealment, as a person in ambush; remain in or around a place secretly or furtively”.  If that is what dictionary lurking is let me explain what Lisanti lurking is. Its really grand and super classy.  It also follows the same principles as the above definition.

Lurking is the derogatory name I deem to going out to the bar, club, party or any place for that matter with the sole purpose to pick up a chick and fuck her.  After which you will never see her again and most likely never even have gotten her name.  Don’t you know that is the best way to interact with your fellow humans of the opposite sex, especially ones you should be looking to pair up with and spend the rest of your life with.  At least in the animal kingdom the male just flat out rapes the female and gets it over with.

No, as humans we find ourselves more then superior to our four legged foes.  Instead we use our cunning intelligence to out smart the female using a combination of looks, intelligence and of course alcohol to achieve such desired results.  In all respect the female does the same.  Fuck she is probably a more ruthless predator then a man.  At least men are for the most part obvious about their intentions.  Women on the other hand act all innocent, nice and decent.  Then once you give them your heart they turn around and fuck you over.  That is because every last one of them is nothing more then a filthy stinking whore.  Fellow males out there if you have a girlfriend, fiance,  or wife and think she is happy guess again.  If she has not fucked some guy behind your back yet, well she probably will later.  Especially if you treat her well.

Here is how a lurk works.  I get dressed up in my best cloths and I go out to the bar.  Immediately upon entering I case the place out to see what talent lies with in.  Then I figure out the game plan that will work best for me to prey on some unsuspecting female counter part.  End goal: to get her back to my place where I can hopefully objectify her by fucking the shit out her all night with out ever getting her name or caring to learn a thing about her. If I can get her out of my house in time for a mid day surf  and never see or hear from her again even better.

How is that achieved, by saying and doing whatever it takes to make it happen.  Your kind of a con-artist.  If you have a good wing man then you most likely have an entire repertoire down.  It is like when lions hunt they pick out the weakest zebra in the heard coax it out and then nab it.  When you lurk you find your mark and basically do the same with out the eating alive part, unless your some kind of psycho killer.

Yeah I claim to be a gentleman, but I guess that is a load of bull shit!  I’m just a mother fucking scum bag like every one else out there trying to get mine before it gets me.  Except there is one catch I don’t lurk anymore.  I cant lurk anymore.  As a matter of fact it makes me nauseous even to think about such a thing.  I find that to be a funny fact because I used to thrive on such an act.

No, I think I’m fucking done.  I had my time and it passed.  I don’t want to lurk.  I don’t want to drink.  I don’t want to feel terrible anymore.  I’m tired and I wish my time here would end.  For some reason I cant die.  Believe me I have tried and wished, but here I am still breathing air.  I can not take my own life cause that would be too simple, but why cant I have peace?  Do I not deserve serenity.   I am exasperated with jumping through hoops.  Maybe I will just move up into the pacific northwest in the hills and become a recluse.

I have had everything I could ever have wanted in life already.  Then I lost it.  I don’t want anything else.  Why can’t you see how wrong this life is that you created for us.  I know your not happy. Stop lying to yourself and be what you always told me you were. My faith in humanity was small when I met you and now after it has diminished even more.  Fuck everyone.  I’m over  all of you and your shit.  Stop laughing at me cause its not funny.  It never has been.  While you laugh I cry.  Thats how its been my whole life.

What the fuck more do you want from me?  What more do I have to prove? How much more suffering should I have to endure?

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Adrienne and I finally decided to take a break apart from each other.  I know it’s for the best right now, but still it’s hard for me to not wish things could not have turned out better.  I tried to keep us together for as long as I could as hard as I could.  She was not ready to try and may never be able to.  I think now the only chance we have of ever reuniting is some time apart.

“If you love something set it free and if it comes back to you it was meant to be” is how the saying goes I trust.  If you’re lost revisit Bowing Out and Once Upon A Mattress for more details.  It looks like from here on forward you will be reading about independent single Lisanti.  Don’t get your hopes up for drunken tales and sexual escapades.  I don’t find pride in those stories anymore.  Before I close the Adrienne chapter of my life I would like to tell one last story about us, our last fun day.

This past weekend I took Ades up to Santa Barbara Wine Country.  Springtime is beautiful up there.  Everything is still green and luscious before browning out during the summer heat and drought.  I had been up there many times thanks to countless Jalama and Surf Beach missions that had went awry leaving me extra time to go poking around.  Adrienne had never been.  I knew my days with her were very limited and that if I did not act now I may not have ever had the opportunity to share one of my favorite places in California with her.  There are so many other places all over the world I wish I could have had the privilege to show her.

As an extra incentive to go I knew many of the 2010 vintages were beginning to be introduced to the tasting rooms.  I planned the whole trip out to go to two vineyards and do some valley adventuring.  Our first stop was Beckmen Vineyards in Los Olivios my current favorite estate wine producer in Santa Barbara County.  They grow mostly Rhone varietals (grapes that are grown in the Rhone Valley of France, Syrah, Grenache, etc), which are currently some of my favorites.  Syrah is considered one of the grapes that grow best in Santa Barbara.

Ades is the one who actually turned me on to Beckmen, buying one their earlier vintage Red Rhone blends earlier in the year.  It was one of the better wines I have had the privilege to drink.  Out of all the vineyards up there they were the must stop.  We get up there and it is just a beautiful vineyard with all the different varieties neatly trellised.  The grounds were nicely gardened with a little lake and rose garden.  There is nothing more aesthetically pleasing to me then a well kept vineyard.  Staring out at acres of pristine rows of vines is surreal.

We go into the tasting room and luckily just missed one of those large wine tasting buses thus had the sommelier all to ourselves.  They had a six bottle tasting for ten bucks and the guy threw in a tasting of the new 2010 Rose for free.  Adrienne is more of a red fan then a white, and I don’t really have a preference.  The 2010 Sauvignon Blanc was quite exquisite.  I ended up buying a bottle.  They did a Rhone white blend (Marsanne, Roussanne, Grenache Blanc) called Le Bec Blanc that just blew me away.  I bought a bottle of that too.

Then we tasted the Rose, which I found to be quite refreshing, Adrienne was not a fan.  Too sweet for her I think.  We tasted their red Rhone blend Cuvee Le Bec, but it was the same vintage Ades had bought that one time so it was not really special to me.  Finally we tasted their Syrah.  Usually when you buy a bottle they comp the tasting.  I bought two and the dude still charged me for the tasting.

Ades said it was because I was not nice enough to the guy, but the dude kept talking about how he was sick and was coughing all over the wine the entire time.  How nice could I possibly be?  Also I did not really care much for him.  Some people just rub me the wrong way.  I think it was something about his face.

After the tasting we cruised around the vineyard a bit.  I love to walk amongst the grapes, feel the dirt between my fingers.  Just imagine how it will look when I come back for another visit for harvest season in the fall.  If I ever strike it rich someday maybe I will get myself a vineyard and grow my own Rhone varietals.  I can be a Rhone Ranger.

Whenever tasting its good to take a break to give the body a chance to absorb the alcohol.  After all if you get too sloshed then you really do not taste objectively.  My absolute favorite spot in the Santa Ynez Valley is this little park called Nojoqui Falls.  Its this 60 foot limestone water fall that is more like a water slide then a fall thanks to years of limestone being deposited at the base of the falls.  It almost does the opposite of most waterfalls.

Instead of eroding the base, all the rich sediment builds it up.  It makes for a very breath taking sight.  There is all this great moss growing on the limestone and the water bubbles down like chandeliers of foam to a shallow crystal clear pool below.  Brennan and I came a across this gem two summers ago when we were doing our 101 Santa Barbara activities. I love it there and make a trip to it whenever I have some spare time.  I had wanted to take Ades there for months but never made the time.  It’s funny how I always wait till things are over to do something amazing.

After the falls I wanted to get over to Ostrich Land, this crazy ostrich and emu farm in between Solvang and Lompoc.  For $5 you get a pail of food and are let lose in the bird pen to feed these monstrous prehistoric angry birds at your own risk of course.  I have been here many times.  It’s a must stop whenever I go up north with someone new.  The place is like a petting zoo gone sadistic.  It’s a shit show that you have to experience to fully understand.  We both managed to survive the endeavor with all our extremities in tact.

They even had a handful of baby Emus that you could hand feed.  I was super pumped on them.  I wanted to buy some ostrich meat to cook up since I just recently found out in one of my classes that it is good eating. Unfortunately it turns out the meat has become super popular and is near impossible to get at the moment and they don’t slaughter the birds at Ostrich Land, a fact I always thought the opposite. Turns out the place is just for fun and not for food.

From Ostrich Land it was on to our next tasting.  Apparently most tasting rooms close at four and there were a few that closed at five.  We managed to luck upon a vineyard a few miles from Ostrich Land that was still tasting called Dierberrg, Star Lane and Three Saints.  Those were the three wine labels that are produced there and it was an estate vineyard as well (estate vineyard means all steps in the wine making process happens right at that vineyard).  We made the last pouring of the day and the sommelier was super chill and actually poured us a very generous tasting of each bottle.  Their pinot noir was very splendid and so was the syrah. I was rather happy with all of the wines poured.

Unfortunately I kicked my budget at Beckmen and the bottles here were a bit too pricey for me to buy one.  I offered to pay for the tasting and sommelier said it was free.  Well then I had to buy a bottle.  I was going to get the Sauvignon Blanc cause it was only $18, but then she pulled out these other wines called Three Saints that are their “table Wines”.  I bought a bottle of Syrah for $12.

Their vineyard unlike Beckmen was huge, too large to walk around.  As a last stop with the slowly waning sun I took Adrienne to surf beach over on Vandenberg Air Force Base.  Surf Beach is one of the eeriest places I have ever surfed and with the recent shark attack I have not made if back since last summer.  We got there and it was actually a beautiful afternoon.  The beach was closed by the military being that it was passed 6pm (surf beach is only open from 8am-6pm daily), but we could still mill around the parking lot.  Between the missile silos, strange non descript huge government buildings and the vast emptiness of the churned up sea it was a breathtaking site.

Ades did not think it was all that eerie, but of course she wouldn’t.  She likes creepy places.  We muddled around the area for about an hour or so.  I tried to do flips off this concrete pillar to no avail, although I did not break my neck so one may consider that a success.  I think it was some of the most fun we had together in a while and deep down thought we had a glimmer of hope.

I wanted to get dinner at this famous restaurant called the Hitching Post, but being it was Saturday and around sevenish there was like a two hour wait.  Im not about to wait two hours for any food.  I don’t care how good it is. We cruised into Solvang this tourist trap built to look like a traditional Danish village.  There were less choices then I would have expected considering the nature of the town.

We ended up settling for some Danish themed diner call the Little Mermaid Restaurant.  The food was plentiful, cheap and from what I could tell from a quick glimpse in the kitchen mostly heated up out of a can.  The dinning experience was great with a bus girl who for whatever reason kept her purse on her at all times thus accidentally clocking me in the head with it every time she took my plate.  It was a classic dingy Jersey diner with a Danish theme .  We ordered beer to go with the meal, after all that type of food is made to pair with beer.  Then Billy Jean came on the radio and I decided to get up a bust out a move or two.

It was a most splendid day.  Our last day together, maybe forever?  Only time will tell.  The situation is out of my hands now.  I have done and endured all any human heart could for another person.  I can’t force her to love me; she has to figure that out on her own.  Sometimes distance makes the heart grow fonder and I can only hope that after a period of time she will realize that she does still love me but has just hardened her heart towards me for the moment.

As for me I need to hang up my hat and walk off into the sunset gracefully alone.  She moves out June 1st and it’s going to be difficult but I cannot be the one to initiate contact between us.  If she wants to try again she knows how to find me.  For now I have to put my feelings for her aside and move on with my life.

A lot of good has come out of this.  I learned tons about myself and have went through a complete transformation as a person.  I think I have finally learned what it means to be human.  I wish Adrienne the very best in life and hope she finds the happiness I was unable to provide for her.

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