Back to the Future for My Ancestral Fathers

Have you ever seriously thought about what it might be like if you were to go back in time and meet not only your father, at the exact same age as you are now, but your grandfather, and hisfather, and his father, and so on? All grouped together in a room set in some sort of timeless zone, placed anywhere in the world of your choosing? What would you all do? 

If that's a little too much to think about, then lets settle for the one man we all knew (or for some, never knew) too well in our lives - the one who put the rules down, who whipped us guys into shape, our out of shape; who told us what not to do and what to do at any given moment, the man who taught us sports, how to fish, how to talk to women... the birds and the bees? Well, that story wasn't told by my father, sadly. That would've been way too funny to sit and listen to seriously. 

If you've never thought about it, then what the hell? THINK, man. Fathom. Imagine. Just take a couple of minutes and conjure up the kind of weirdness it would be at first but the possibility of perhaps, being bitter rivals for the same girl. Or maybe teammates on the school's baseball team? Maybe even burger flippers at the local hop? WHo knows, right? 

Screenwriter, Bob Gale - who co-penned the script, Back to the Future - first conceived part of the story after he found his father's high school yearbook in an attic. He browsed through the pages and learned that his father was the class president. Soon after, Gale and Robert Zemeckis (co-writer and Director of the Back to the Future trilogy) came together and formed a plot for the film. Gale's idea came about after thinking if he would've been friends with his father if they had gone to high school together. With a few ideas from Zemeckis and the greenlight from the studio, Back to the Future was born.

 

Papa Mcfly and sonny boy, seen together in their youths for the first time, onscreen. I loved the little hand gesture they do before Marty even realizes who he's sitting next to.. and their reaction to their names called out. AH! 


Gale perhaps believed that him and his father might've been even the best of friends. Inseparable. Total loyalty to one another. Giving each man what they need from one another. Applying the balance to a relationship, u know? Heart-to-heart in the father/son man-to-man, brother-to-brother sort of way. 


Imagine what it would be like to play a game of pool with each other, on equal levels perhaps; debating against each other in class or chatting up with the popular girls together, taking turns being each other's wing man and all. 


Whatever fits your fancy, you have to admit that you two would find endless things in common. Possibly do everything together. Well lets not hope everything but certainly lots! 


But what if your dad met your mum back in high school? And then you met her? And then she felt "differently" towards you, oh because... you're an 'absolute dream' to her? What if she had... dark secrets about what she'd like to do to you...? 


... like having the hots for you. 

I know. Absurd and unspeakable! Hush, Tak! ENough of this crazy hocus pocus! It's really weird to imagine and I'm sorry if I was taking this a little too far - but you can't ignore the possibilities that are out of your power. If in fact you do run into your mom, who's - you've gotta admit - pretty darn cute, and is your dad's object of desire, please no cock block. Let her go and let daddy have her. If you don't, or if you fail to get them hooked up at that important dance, then u know what'll happen to ya - 

does, "Erased... from existence," ring a bell in there? HELLO!! Anybody, home?? 



No cock-blocking each other, alright? Lets get that straight. No friend should do that to his fellow mate. Never. Know when to respect your elders, especially dad, and let him have who he wants... especially if the girl's your mum. You don't want to erase yourself from your own present, now wouldya? 

I recently watched Back to the Future and thought of the same thing Gale thought when he found that year book that belonged to his dad. I pondered for a while after the film and imagined me, with my dad, playing cards but with our ancestral fathers playing along just the same around this huge round poker table. Life comes in full circle. The youngest sat with the oldest of the family lineage and those in between. It was a wonderful thought. I knew it would be the way I'd learn more about myself and about my family. I figured, since evolution proved that life forms posses something from the past, what do we - us humans - posses in our soul that our ancestors once had in them? What got passed down and what got hung up? Who was the first to create visions on paper? or the first to make a living out of culinary? or the first who was thought of as the joker in the family? When did my mind, my way of thinking, first kick off? Who else is a Pisces amongst my fathers? 

To know the future you must know the past. 





This entire post just gave me an idea for a film... 


Food Tip from Tak - Pesto Pasta w/ Chicken Breast

Oi! 

I got a simple dish for you guys that'll definitely impress your mates. What we have here is a rotini pasta dish toss/mixed in homemade pesto sauce with a side of "grilled" chicken breast. 

Now if yall know how to cook some lovely breasts and boil pasta, then the battle is half won for ya. However, the secret in making this dish successful is the pesto sauce. Now you can always buy pre-made pesto sauce in the market but that just about takes away the rewarding feeling of awesomeness and success from making the sauce on your own. Sure, if you're a first timer, things won't turn out as top notch as you hoped but believe me, this was my first time making the sauce on my own and it was delicioso! 

So, knowing how easy this'll be to make -- you game? 

Pesto Pasta w/ Grilled Chicken Breast

Aight, well here are the necessary ingredients and specialty tools:

tools:

1) Blender 

serves 4

1) Fresh basil leaves - 3 cups
2) Garlic cloves - 4 cloves
3) Olive Oil - 1 cup
4) Walnuts - 1 1/2 cup, crushed 
5) Parmesan cheese - 1/3 cup 
6) Salt n Pepper 
7) Chicken breasts - 4 pieces
8) Rotini pasta - whole box (1 lbs) 


First, you might wanna let the breasts season well while you prepare the sauce. So attack them breasts with salt n pepper and perhaps any additional seasoning that you desire. Might i suggest some thyme or even garlic powder. The simpler the better. You don't want the flavors of the chicken to overpower the rich flavor of the pesto. 

Alright, once you put that aside, time to make the pesto. First, measure out and crush the walnuts, set aside. Peel and slice the cloves and set aside, then measure out the oil, leaves, and parmesan. Once you have everything ready to go put 'em all in the blender and blend that thing till it becomes a nice looking thick glob of goo. haha Trust me, the smell alone will make you want to eat the pesto with some italian bread. 

That's the beauty of pesto, baby -- it can be eaten with a lot of things. Sandwiches, skewers, perhaps chip dip, etc. 

Anyway, after you blend them all, pour it out into a bowl and stir in the salt and pepper. I haven't measured out the salt but you might wanna put just a couple of pinchfuls of each. You can always add more later anyway. 

Boil pasta for 8 minutes and cook them breasts. Once the pasta's ready, drain, and then mix in the pesto over no heat. Make sure every single piece of rotini is slaughtered and stained with that sexy greenness of the majestic pesto. Once that's done, wait for the breasts then serve on the side.

Enjoy your meal! 






A Food Tip from Tak

Want a tip for an easy, quick, awesome lunch?

Mexican Tortilla Pizza!

It's quite easy. All you need are some simple ingredients.
1) 6 inch tortillas.
2) Any cheese of your choice. In this case, mozzeralla.
3) Green onions
4) Baby spinach.
5) Taco sauce.
6) Grated Parmesean.

If you're looking to have something that'll make you feel good and wholesome inside, might i suggest you double layer the tortilla and perhaps add some choice of meat over the bottom layer of the pizza.

Ground beef or chicken or maybe even just black beans can add that special stuff your tummy may be lookin' for if ya wanna spice things up, chop some bell peppers or jabaneros and perhaps throw in some cooked spicy Italian sausage with a bit of squeezed lime on the top. A little bit of citrus never hurt, eh?

Well anyway, the simpler the pizza, the shorter the cooking time. Without all that extra
stuff (just the ingredients listed above), it should take less than 10 minutes to cook in 425 degree heat. Anything extra will take some more time -- but of course, you know that already, right?

Well now that you're done,
CHOW!!!

いただきます!!!!







untitled

I can't stand but sometimes feel like an ice cube melting in a glass. 

This'll be a short story some day, i feel. 

Subconscious Thought

Out of all the places in the world, you showed up at my doorstep once again last night before my very subconscious. You walked in on my dream, as if walking into your apartment of 7 years - knowing the number of steps it'd take from the bathroom to the oven, like you're more familiar with my mind than you are with anything else. You know that movie Misery? Well, i'm no James Cann and you're no Kathy Bates but if you remember the pain and desperation on Caan's face, well then you'd understand how I felt when i locked eyes on you for the last time.  

I was riding my bike and somehow bumped into you on the street by a lonely building. There was nothing said right off the bat, we were just so shocked to see each other. Seeing you standing there in the flesh -  dressed in dark garb with a thick designer pea coat on and a grey scarf loosely wrapped around your neck - rendered me frozen. My grip was still tight on the brake levers, beginning to warm up into a sweat from my rising body temperature. You looked just as stunned as I did. Did our memories flash before your eyes just as it did with me? And how long has it been since? Maybe two years - maybe three? You looked as beautiful as always. If not, more than ever. You smelled of roses and light body oil. The aroma hit me like a wave, quickly washing over me and throwing my balance off until I fell flat on my back. I think our very first words were 'hi.' It was the only sensible thing to say, I guess. 

I don't know why i went on with this dream. we just stood there frozen in time looking into each other's eyes. I'm not quite sure what this all means. I think i may have to say something to you that i feel u deserve. Something. I don't know. I'm feeling like mush right now thinking back on it all. 

Yeah... i'll be seeing you later. 


Takeru 

CRIMSON FADE: REDUX

by takeru v. maeda


There was a loud parade by the beach the other day. The air was cooled by an easy ocean breeze with the sun hanging high. Looking down from the peaceful view above, the streets of a once crime-ridden neighborhood were flooded with energy as locals and out-of-towners stood shoulder-to-shoulder to watch the larger-than-life floats pass on by.

A young boy, no older than 7 -- whose expressions were hidden by a green paint of what seemed like a frog -- waves his bubble wand and watches in amusement as the weightless ornaments sail for the cloudless sky.
 
A middle-aged man -- dressed in peach shorts and an oversized blue tank top -- smiles and laughs while bopping to the jungle beats of a foreign marching band. 

Nestled behind the sweaty onlookers was a tiny bar which looked as if it was shipped straight from a Waikiki resort. It was a little haven of the exotic, where people come to have a light drink to simmer the energy. August and Melinda sat together by the counter safely under the shade. Poor August couldn't help but feel swept away by Melinda's honey eyes and by the way her laugh sounded like a strummed harp. He gently grazes her hand, almost tickling her, looking at her ring. He runs his thumb over the crimson stone, gazing into Melinda's shy eyes, and with only a look, asks her, 'where is this from?' August's curious stare is met with a hesitant look. Melinda reaches for August's hand and guides him away from the bar.     

Older men and young boys turn their heads to catch a glimpse of Melinda's beauty as the two walk away from the parade. Two old men, sitting right beside a red bricked building, fan themselves with with their hats. Their eyes fixes onto Melinda's shapely bronzed legs underneath her white sundress.

Melinda has an exotic look, obviously. Her skin is naturally browned; her eyes are light with a pair of long and dark brows. Her face isn't angular; just smooth and feminine. When she smiles she has strong creases that run down her cheeks which make great dimples. Her top lip is slender and sharp at the crest while her bottom lip is slightly fuller and pillowy -- which has made quite an impression on August for he's feeling the impulse to fervently press his maddening lips to her soft cinnamon kisser. She was always a lover even back in her childhood. Just before hitting her teen years, Melinda would grab her young crush and plant a wet kiss on the lucky boy's unexpecting mouth. Not knowing the fine art of lip locking, her kisses would usually follow with the boy wiping away the moistness of her saliva. 

She'd make boys like August jealous because when boys like him would try to get her attention, she'd always happen to look away -- never intentionally to ignore them but rather as if by some greater power, they were never meant to come together. Melinda has always been a lover, always passionate, and at times, never able to let go. It was the Latin blood passed down by her ancestors which attributed to her compassion and flame. She always cared for her lover; ever faithful and had always provided the soft touch to her relationships. But boys like August would fall for her look so deeply that they couldn't care less about her current lovers. It was the way she moved her body on the dance floor; the way her body entwined with the flavor of the music made the men urge to their primal intuition. Boys like August fell in love quickly.
 
After Melinda would kiss her men good night, she'd leave them alone on her doorstep feeling like a flower without the sun. Her touch, her gaze, her smell, her laugh, and her flavor spun the hearts of many men. For those, like August, who were tormented in their stomachs, their hearts and souls could never rid the lasting impression of her burning aura. 

August was a bit of a dreamer. The moment he learned her name, he was piecing together a puzzle in his mind, gathering thoughts of a lasting future together. He this way throughout his entire life. He never got the chance to meet a woman so tuned to his heart as Melinda. At first glance, he felt a jolt in his spine unlike anything he ever felt. He loved the way she'd say his name. It was the hint of Cajun in her voice that attracted him. He was a sucker for foreign women but they always thought he was weird and perhaps slightly misunderstood because of his dreamy ways. But similar to Melinda, August was a lover at heart. He only wanted a special person to share his dreams with. Even if a woman was in a relationship with another man, he'd never let that get in the way of telling them how he felt -- if he strongly felt anything at all. Strangely, he always had a thing for taken women. 

August played the guitar by the pier some summer days and nights long ago. One summer, Melinda was visiting the city on her own from down south. On her last night she decided see the beautiful pier to have one last remaining impression of the city before her leave. August, being the at-times pathetic, lovesick, loser that he is, was singing his heart out about a lost love -- inspired by an ex who left him.
 
She sat by herself on the steps as pedestrians would periodically stop and listen before continuing on. He soon caught Melinda hanging on to his every word. August kept looking at her for almost the entire time she sat listening. It was as if they were the only two frozen in time; the way they glanced into each other's eyes. After he finished his session for the night, the two finally introduced each other. From then on the two could never keep their eyes off each other. They were together for hours that evening talking about their past, their present, and their hopes of the future, briefly mentioning love and relationships. 

By the end of the night August had spent his day's worth of change on her dessert and the ride to her hotel, but then collected a free kiss on the cheek. However, like always, he fell in love much too quick. Not knowing she'd be leaving, August felt like returning to the hotel see her again. On his arrival -- with a flower in one hand and tickets to see a live concert in the other -- Melinda was getting into a cab on her way to the airport. August was heart broken, prompting her to gave him her home number on a fortune cookie fortune. She apologized repeatedly but August wouldn't have it. He wouldn't want her leaving with a bittersweet aftertaste. August smiled and said he'll 'see her again soon.' Feeling this urging passion from within, she kissed him on the lips. The kiss was so strong that their parting made a deep smacking noise. August even tasted her cinnamon flavor. That was the last time they had seen each other before today. 

On the boardwalk, Melinda leans on a rail as August stands over her. He tries to inch forward with a smile toward her neck but she pulls back playfully. For August, his pain becomes deeper. He knows she's still in a committed relationship with a suitor down south in her hometown but he won't let that get in his heart's way. Melinda dawdles down the boardwalk while August follows in her footsteps, watching her calves contract with every step in her short heels. When walking by the side of your love, never walk ahead, for you may leave her feeling unimportant and alone; rather, walk by her side, letting your heart lead you. Melinda looks back, squinting off the rays of sun. 

The parade is still thumping soundly but the sun's hovering lower over the western horizon. The streets are just as lively as when the sun first stood directly overhead. The sidewalks are littered with plastic wrappers, carton cups with burnt fries, and sprinkled mardi gras beads spilt from broken threads. A float carries a full band playing energetic music. Their speakers bump to the sound of eclectic sounds of caribbean steel pans, latin drums, and electric guitars. The onlookers dance in the middle of the street. The lights from nearby shops and amusement park illuminate the area. There is a beautiful array of multicolored lights from all corners of the street. 

August's hand finds its way resting nervously on Melinda's thigh as they embrace, gently holding onto her face. Melinda leans back on the bench, letting August's body come over her more. No one's around except for the seagulls perched on the lamps beside them. The bumping of their rhythmic hearts overwhelms the sounds of the music of the band from the float. A young girl, no older than 8, and her friend sees August and Melinda and run down a ramp exiting the boardwalk, seemingly shocked yet running with giggles. Hearing the laughter, August looks up for moment to survey the area. Melinda tilts her head back over the back rest to look as well. Seeing her naked neck makes August swell up and he can't help but peer at her perky chest. Melinda glances in August's eyes and sits up. Not one word has been said for hours and the first we hear is her telling him she has to go. 

He looks softly into her eyes. Her frozen posture gazes back at him. He knows what he wants to say but hesitates in fear. Melinda studies August's puzzled look. In his mind, he practices the words repeatedly for what must've been his 5000th time he's been practicing for this moment. 
He feels the muscles in his lips move, about to shoot out the very words but Melinda's words come out first. Several words really. A say so hurtful that he loses sight of the words that hummed passionately in his conscious. A silence grew over him.

As the sun hits the horizon, the parade slowly dies out. The floats disappeared. The crowds disperse leaving their heap of litter behind. A large clean up crew are scatted around the long street gathering empty cups and fallen beads. The young kids lay asleep on their father's shoulders. The man in the oversized blue tank still dances to his own tune with a woman of the same age. 
 
Out on the boardwalk, August sits alone on a bench. From far away, Melinda is seen walking away from the boardwalk - far far away from it. She enters a cab. August, practically destroyed, picks himself up and walks toward the exit ramp. In the silence, a couple of seagulls, who sat perched above him on the lamp, flee with a loud calling.
 
He trips on a stride and falls toward the ground. His fall slows down with the ground seemingly getting further away from him. The ground opens up to a black hole. He feels no fear of his end, upon seeing the darkness opening up below him. His fall throws him down hard through the abyss without a scream heard. At the bottom of the hole he sees a rough-looking cement ground lit by the street lamp from above. He looks down at the ground almost wanting to hit the ground sooner -- thinking if he'll ever land. He hits the bottom and in an instant, he awakens from his sleep. 

August sits up in his bed with all sense of life and joy having faded away. He leans back on the bed, missing the woman he never met and feels the cold pavement of rock bottom as he lays among the shards of his broken heart. 


the end.