Water Lilly Alley

Sleepy Time Blues

Alvin Valles — 2009-11-09T12:44:58-08:00

Dear Sister La Cienega

Why is it I'm more alert when I wake up at 6 AM at least in the short
term? As I write this it’s 9:00 am and I’m groggy and feel like crap. I have just turned 50 and was wondering if this is a symptom of middle age and is it something I will have to look forward to on a daily basis?

Sincerely,
Zonked in Canada.

Dear, Zonked in Canada,

My child, this is quite normal for someone entering that I like to call ‘The Wonder Years’. You see, when you wake up in the morning, your are awake, and once awake life seems wonderful, peaceful, and in most cases, stress free, however, the body and soul have an internal dialogue going on that you may not be aware of. It goes something like this.

-Wow, awake.
- Hey body, good morning, but before we get started I would just like to remind you that in this journey of what fools call life, we have come further than we are going.
- What do you mean?
-Well, the path ahead of us is a bit shorter than the path behind us, take a look, it’s quite obvious.
- But what has that have to do with me?
-OMG, you’ve got to be joking.
- No.
- Two words: Scrunch. Time.
- Scrunch time?
- Yeah, things that use to take forever now fly by; things that use to fly by now take forever.
-Really?
- Yes, really, remember as a kid, it was mid-summer and you had that double scoop of chocolate chip mint ice cream and were in heaven for all of ten minutes and then it was, gone, forgotten and life went on. Well with Scrunch Time, you can choose to eat that sane double scoop now and will end up sitting on it for the next year.
- Damn.

So you see my dear, the body can be so naïve at times and it’s up to the soul to try and smooth things out. That is where the confusion sets in. Now revisiting your dilemma on grogginess, let’s apply the scrunch time theory here and see how this plays out.

Arising at 6:00 AM you are not groggy because you are awake and once awake, grogginess has a tendency to set in and if you remember with the ST Theory - things that use to take forever will now fly by- however you must be awake for this to take place, you can't continue to tire when sleeping, sleeping creates un-tired. That is why you went to sleep in the first place. Now with all this taken into consideration it only proves that once awake one instantly begins to get tired or groggy as scrunch time kicks in. Stephan Hawking would like to call this a Space Time Continuum but then again, he is such an attention whore and if I were you I wouldn’t pay him much mind.

To further elaborate my point: Christmas Day for a kid seems like such a long way off from the month of May, and just like summer vacation appears to last forever is because kids have little to associate time with. Time is relative to ones desires , for most don’t see time as now, but as something that has a starting point and an ending point. The ending point of course being somewhere down the line. The younger you are, the further the destination in question seems to be.

A child’s whole frame of reference is built on a couple years. Every increment is a bigger piece of their life. As you get older, every increment is a smaller piece, the denominator is bigger."

Therefore It is my summation that scrunch time works in the same way when one wakes up in the morning; one feels awake, feels great and then before you know it, bamn, and one is groggy. This is because groggy does not have any notion as to what time it is. So in essence you are going from awake to groggy in what I would like to call a Day Worm Hole. I know this seems to be a little complicated but in time once the grogginess passes it will make sense, or perhaps not.

Toodles
Sister La Cienega

Love Takes A Holiday.

Alvin Valles — 2009-09-02T10:02:30-07:00

- Good morning oggie woogie.

- Good morning Lamykins.

- Why don’t you go and shave and I will start breakfast.

- Right after a kiss, missy.

- <wet kissing sounds>

- Marrying you will be the highlight of my life Oggie-woogie.

- Me too, Lamy.

- Oggie, did you set up our wedding registry yesterday?

- Yes.

- Where? Macy’s, Crate & Barrel, Bloomingdales, Williams-Sonoma?

- Facebook.

- What!!!

- Yeah, on Facebook. So far we have already received:
3 Long Island Iced Teas
1 Apple Martini
5 Vodka Cranberries
1 Bejeweled Blitz
- A grape patch, a potato patch. a corn patch, all from Farmville. Aslo a lost cow, a roster, a pig, a goat and two apple trees, a peach tree, an orange tree, a melon patch and a swing set that we can place in the shade of the farm house that we will buy with additional purchased points.

- We also have four imaginary friends that will play scrabble with us for the next six months.

- From the Mafia club, we received an ice pick, a bomb, handcuffs, one knee-breaker and a snitch.

- From our friend over at Vampire Wars, we got the power of rodent claw, control over the night crawlers and a magical cape what will allow either one of us to fly upside-down.

- 49 assorted quizzes.

- Oh and there was a personal comment from Hayley W. that reads: Wait its not 100 degrees outside, I am cold!

- We also of this morning, have a lot of pokes and you have three super-pokes from by Dad.

- FACEBOOK? You REGISTERED us at FACEBOOK?

- Are you some kind of fucking moron?

- No, I’m a burp. I took the What Natural Body Function Are You quiz.

- Get the fuck out of my house… RIGHT NOW!

Instructions

Alvin Valles — 2009-08-29T13:36:42-07:00

Back in 1958 or so, we didn’t have babysitters, nannies, or maids. We had ‘Instructions’ For instance, when my mom had to go out to the market, or to run mom chores we kids would be left home alone. Me being the oldest, 8, I was the one to be given ‘The Instructions’

- -Alvie, while I’m out keep an and eye on your brother and sister, no fighting, and don’t use the stove, stay out of the fridge, you don’t need to be eating anything, I don’t want you choking again, especially if no one is here. Don’t be using your slingshot to be shooting birds from your bedroom window, and most of all: DO not, do not open the door for anyone other than me. Got it?

- -Yes,

- -What did I say?

- -No Fighting, don’t use the stove, stay out of the fridge, no eating, no slingshot stuff and don’t open the door for anyone?

- -Ok, back in an hour.

<One hour later.>

- (knock-knock)

- -Who is it?

- -It’s me, mom, open the door.

- -How do I know it’s you?

- - God damn it, open the door or when I get in there I will knock you into next Tuesday.

- - John, check the back door, I don’t know who it is but they have the evil power of time travel.

- - Dee, go lock all the windows, this could be dangerous.

- - Alvie, open the door.

- - How do I know you’re who you say you are?

- - Open the God damn door now!

- - Ok but first you will have to answer a few questions.

- - What did we have for breakfast?

- - Don’t be funny, you had oatmeal and toast, Johnny had a bowl of Quisps and Dee had peaches, now open the fucking door.

- - Damn, they got mom, I think they sucked the morning stuff out of her brain and sent out one of their chief body pods to kill, roast and eat us.

- - Really, what are we going to do Alvie?

<Loud banging on the door>

- The three of you are going to get an ass beating if you don’t open this door now.

<Johnny and Dee peeking out from the living room curtains>

- - Alvie, its getting mad, the face is turning red, what are we going to do?

- - Don’t worry, I think it’s going into its huff and puff skills, but the house is cinder block so we don’t have anything to worry about right now, but, we need to get a plan in place.

- - Like what?

- - I don’t know, let me think.

<banging getting louder>

- - Ok, turn the stove on, go get my slingshot, open the fridge and get all the choking stuff out.

- - What is choking stuff?

- - I don’t know, get chunk stuff out.

- - Should we get the marmalade out, remember when you choked on the little orange things in the jelly?

- - Yes, get the marmalade and also a few orbs so that we can ultra-force project the orange blast units.

- - Ok, Johnny, smear some marmalade on one of the Brussels sprouts

- - Dee, hand me my slingshot.

- - Ok, on the count of three, Dee, open the door, I will have only one shot. Our only hope is that I can launch the orange globe of death directly into the mouth of whatever it is.

- - God be with us,

- - 1…, 2…

The Burning

Alvin Valles — 2009-08-17T23:40:43-07:00

In keeping with Water Lilly Alley's diverse nature I felt it time to flip a page into a new realm of creativity. A subject that perhaps may appeal to the inner glow of romance that some women dream of when the kids are afternoon napping and the husband is out back draining the clogged septic tank. A little something that may ignite her soul as the warm summer breeze teases through the screen door and the aspens rustle lovingly in the front yard.

Yes, kids, I’m talking about erotica.

I think I’ve done a fair job here, the ending is a little rough but in time I think I may be able to iron it out into one solid piece.

Thank You.
I remain as usual, Alvin.

The Burning of The Sandusky Pathway.

Her entire body was on fire with desperate anticipation. All the reasons why she shouldn’t be doing this flashed through her mind. They had just met at the speed dating tournament and had made it to the playoffs. They were both lonely and Loretta recently divorced. Jim’s hands, his gentle touch did wonderful things to her. But she knew what was happening between them was never going to last. The first two hours of the night slowly slipped by and she had not given in, yet now her body had cried out for pleasure. Markus had been her first and only lover—and that had not been until after they were engaged and leaving her the way he did only made meeting someone new all the more hesitant

But this was somehow different—felt so good, so right. Despite their differences, they were drawn to each other like powerful magnets. Loretta wanted nothing more than to make love with Jim. She could feel her resolve slipping away. Her body, her primitive animal lust was more powerful than her rational mind….

The night was coming to an end and she was ready to make love with Jim, to give herself to him, she was prepared when his mouth captured hers. She parted her lips, allowing his tongue to invade her moist, warm mouth. She could feel his heart pounding, as his chest pressed against hers, nearly in time to the powerful throbbing between her thighs. His hand slipped under her t-shirt, lightly caressing her heaving breasts.

The sensation of his hand on her bare skin was nearly more than she could bear. A low moan escaped from deep down inside as she moved her hand towards the heat that was now binding them as one. Her hand seemed to have a desire of its own and within moments, a lifetime, she unsnapped his jeans and felt his wiener spring forth from its denim prison and as he looked her in the eye he said softly “ How’s that working out for you down there, pretty impressive eh?”

The End.

You can count on me to do my part.

Alvin Valles — 2009-08-15T01:13:39-07:00

I have always been taken by words in one sense or another. For instance there are words that live in sounds: Splash, comes to mind, buzz is another, sizzle and snap are just a few that speak for themselves. When it comes to sex: Warm, soft, fuzzy, moist, slippery, apart and glistening have a complete different meaning altogether than if one were to use the same words to describe a sliced peach that has been left in the backseat of a car in July.

One can also use a single word to convey a wave of feelings: Dreary, passionate, inconsolable, adorable, apprehensive, disillusioned, leery, lost and lonely are just but a few, And yet what they all have in common is that they slip far within themselves, turn around and come right back to the surface zigzagging all the way so that you can never quite pin them down.

Then there are the words that are held captive in groups of ownership. Kids have their own group of words that they use among one another and nowhere else. Men too have their little four letter anatomical descriptions that are shared only within the tribe of men. Women have a bit more in the word basket, words that they use only in the company of other women, words that we shall not touch on at this time for reasons known only to women.

It’s these words that are owned by certain unmixed groups that I wish to discuss today. One word in particular that arises from this thought process is normally not spoken in mixed company, mixed parties or within cultures other than their own.

And that word my friends, is the “N” word.

Now, I didn’t even say ‘the word’ and somehow there are about 200 million of your 500 trillion synapses desperately trying to short circuit your neurons in the hope that you will not read any further. However, the choice is yours.

Still around?

Spendid.

As I see it, the ‘N’ word over the last 20 years or so has only been spoken within certain selected circles. People within these social circles use the word almost as a term of endearment. I do believe it has a lot to do with countering the downside connotation of how society has associated the word with violence and actions that fall short of what most would expect of what is moral and just. These selected individuals (The N’s) tend to lend themselves to the darker side of life in a belief that the means truly does justify the final outcome of any given situation. This was never more evident than in the late ‘60’s and all through the 70’s.

However, during the 80’s and up until now this social unit has taken full ownership of the word Ninja and proudly utilizes the word within their elite setting.

Let’s look at a few of the phases that have become popular within this time frame of cultural bondage.

1.   What was that crazy Ninja thinking?
2.   What’s up Ninja?
3.   Oh no, that ninja dint.
4. Man, that ninja can scale.
5.   Ninja, what are you talking about?
6.   Ninja got game.
7.   Ninja, you ain’t getting none of this unless you get a job… (Female    ninja)
8.   Ninja, I don’t see no ring on this finger. (Female ninja)
9.   Don’t be hatin’ ninja.
10 You feeling me ninja
10. Ninja pul…ease.

So you can see how certain verbiage can be completely and so ever empowering and enriching at the same time within a group that has come to terms with societies’ negativity.

Then there are the ones that wish to be Ninjas but can’t quite pull it off even though they have all the skills and street speak. These people are mostly white and have been termed Winjas.

Some popular Winjas.
Chuck Norris.
Jean- Claude Van Damme
Billy Jack
John Savage
Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Popeye
Uma Thurman
Charlie’s Angels.

Then we have Real Ninjas
Bruce Lee
Li Mu-bai
Yu Shu-lien
Yu-Xiulian
Sir Te
Wudang.
David Carradine

My point being is that if one is in the realm or reality of who they are, then they have certain rights to the words that describe them or their group.

So back to me… because you know WLA is really all about me even though it takes me forever to make a point.

Every morning as part of my daily ritual I get up, feed the cats, brush my teeth, pull a comb through my hair, throw on a pair of jeans, commando style, some sandals, a shirt and head on down to The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf coffeehouse for a cup of half decaf and half regular coffee.

On Wednesday mornings there are these large, I’m talking mega big ass buses that pull up to the curb at the Coffee Bean, half filled with elderly folks. I would say perhaps the youngest may run about 60, the oldest, 75 or thereabouts. Then there is another group of the elderly that meet at The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf to catch the mega assed busses. I’m thinking these are Indian Gaming buses that haul these folks out to the casinos near Palm Springs for a day and night of old folk’s blissful wishing

I don’t have a problem with this, nor do I care if I have to park at the far end of the parking lot because there are so damn many of them. They are everywhere, in the buses, near the buses, in back of the buses, in front of the buses, milling around in the parking lot, some ordering coffee, some not, but most of them just smoking cigarettes and cigars like time will forbid them the remainder of the pack.

The line from the bathroom begins at the rear of the coffeehouse and winds towards and out the front door. There are about four people in line, so I wait.

My turn rolls around and there are two female baristas behind the counter that I know and banter with on a daily basis and a male barista working the pastry counter.

So I get up to the counter, now you have to understand, I have gray hair, salt and pepper some say, and I’m 59 and a half. I’m wearing sandals with ankle socks. Getting the picture?

I’m sorta old, so I figure I can talk old people talk and share a few of old people words.

I say – in what I think is my indoor voice – to the cat working the pastry counter.

“Dude, are those buses hauling all these old folks off to heaven or what, if so, there are a few that look like they may not make it before the driver finishes stocking the refreshment panel with last minute prayers.”

Well the fucking place goes silent. You could hear a pin drop and If looks could kill I would have been shot, buried, dug up and shot again right then and there by a horde of blue heads

Old folks can be very, very intimidating when they all hush up at the same time.

If it weren’t for the sound of the toilet flushing and someone fumbling with the bathroom door lock, trying to get out of the bathroom, you would have thought time has come to an end.

And I was right there.