finding enlightenment

When I purchased my new, sporty, red Honda CR-Z, I made arrangements to protect it with a clear coat bra, window tinting and to have an optional armrest installed. The dealer, Willey Honda, had the shuttle drop me off at Phillips Gallery while they completed the work and subsequently, pick me up. When I was picked up after they had completed their task, the shuttle driver and I had a conversation about the gallery. The driver asked about if I knew of John Erickson, a childhood friend of his, who happened to be a painter. "John Erickson is one of the premier artists represented at our gallery," I told him much to his surprise. The driver recounted incidents in the past like the time he dropped acid with John to go to his friend's opening. "Yup," he said. "John used to call me Little Buddha." "Why is that?" I asked as he was a thin, older white guy with a slightly scraggly beard. "Because I was always seeking enlightenment," he countered. "And did you find it?" I asked. "Yup, at Willey Honda," he replied.

elsewhere . . .

I recognize that by posting this, I'm only revealing my strange thought processes, but I cannot help myself. For me (as I suspect for everybody), reality is what looms right there in front of me at the present moment. At times, I am reminded however, that this is just a perceptual misconception. In truth, much is happening beyond my little sensory field. As an example, tides are rising and falling, causing water to lap on beaches on the west coast and east coast (and beyond) at this very moment. My favorite street in San Francisco is teeming with people and traffic as I write this. Delicate Arch is standing majestically in the quiet sunlight, perhaps experiencing a solitary moment between the sporadic visits of tourists. Somewhere, the sun is rising. Meteors are hurtling through space and the universe continues to expand. Yes, yes, it's a strange thing to share with all of you, but nonetheless, it is just part of the wonder I experience every day.

autumn

Occasionally, (OK, every day) two of my co-workers and I venture out to the 7-11 a few buildings away to indulge in some unhealthy, but otherwise delicious “manufactured” treat. Lately, a Pillsbury sweet roll has gained favor over the 4 for $1.00 mini-tacos. What can I say? I am a self-confessed and deeply ashamed junk-food junkie. Lately, as we step outside, our faces are brushed with the brisk, cold air that is autumn. I love autumn. Each season has its own charms, but autumn remains my favorite. It marks the gentle transition of the hot days of summer into the ultimate brutally frigid days of winter. The briskness energizes me and reminds me how wonderful life is with all of its small surprises and delights. Time passes and we are inexorably caught up in its wake. Even as I grow older, I would rather surrender to its movement and enjoy it rather than hopelessly rage against it.

the end of the twinkie apocalypse

Did I chronicle my Twinkie-deprivation trials and tribulations to you? (Of course I did. Nothing brings me more pleasure than whining to a prospective group!) Once Twinkies were spirited back into the open market by an obviously benevolent power, production could not keep up with the demand. It was very difficult to purchase a box even after repeated visits to key locations (Walmart, UGH!, was a main distribution outlet!) at methodically timed intervals. I cannot list the number of times I stood brokenhearted at an empty Hostess display. This has prove to be quite a horrible and grueling time for me, even worse perhaps than the period where Twinkies no longer existed in this universe. At least I was relatively consigned to a CERTAIN hopelessness and despair. (I could tell you tales of my search for a reasonable substitute. In short, there are none even though cosmetically, some appeared close. In retrospect, some seemed close enough, but I think that conclusion was colored as the taste of the original faded through time.) I'm happy to report that now, after this near culinary apocalypse-like period, Twinkies are in abundance. I can rest easy that order has been restored to my universe. My Twinkie-deprived dread (picture images of withdrawal convulsions) of replacing the latest devoured box has now abated and no longer haunts my subconscious. It is as if a great weight has been lifted from my psyche. The birds chirp a little sweeter, the pickles taste a little crisper.

Live long and prosper.

twinkies and the holy grail

I’ve always had an attachment to Hostess Twinkies. Inadvertently, I even purchased a two-pack one week prior to the earth-shattering announcement of the Hostess dissolution. Too late I wandered into the local supermarket to stock up after that proclamation only to find the bare metal of emptied shelves where the Hostess junk food once sat. “Oh, Hostess! We hardly knew ye!” How could I have taken them for granted for so many years? Why, why did I not pick up on the prescience of the movie Zombieland, in which a Twinkie-obsessed Woody Harrelson scoured every store he came upon in the post-apocolyptic world to search for his beloved snack (often risking his life in the process)?

Last Sunday I became aware of a possible replacement in the form of a coupon in the newspaper for $ .75 off the purchase of a box of Little Debbie Cloud Cakes. I recognize many of you involuntarily wince at the mere mention of Little Debbie, as do I, but hey, if there is an alternative (at least until the powers that be settle on the rights to Twinkie and who will ultimately purchase them), I’m willing to overlook past prejudices. I’ve never seen a Little Debbie Cloud Cake before. Perhaps the world supremacy of Twinkies shamed them away from the supermarket shelves for all of these years. Coupon in hand, I began my search two days ago. Both supermarkets nearby (a Dan’s and a Fresh Market) contained no such treats. A search on the Little Debbie website lists stores nearby that supposedly stock these babies, but then, they listed one of the two stores that I previously scoured to no avail. Today, I will widen my search perimeter to include supermarkets in the vicinity of my workplace. I fear Little Debbie Cloud Cakes are like the mythical Unicorn, somebody’s imagined creature, beautiful yet non-existent. (Side note: North Korea news sources recently announced the discovery of a past Korean King’s unicorn stable, so perhaps there is hope . . .
Another side note: how pathetic and desperate is that to hope for the credibility of news from North Korea?)
In any event, I’ll keep you posted on my quest for the alternate Twinkie Holy Grail, Cloud Cakes.