ME-ME-ME or Beware of Wolverine Junior

Or, are you talkin’ to me? Or 20 stuff and things that people, werewolves, zombies, and selkies love and hate about me (not in order, it depends on my mood)…

[1] I eat a lot of SEAFOODS that you may find gross or bizarre: chilled raw oysters, steamed lobster, boiled crawfish, grilled cherry stone clams, sake-smothered squid, prawns, mussels, all kinds of shellfish drunk with vinegar wine and red peppers—I mostly prefer them raw or steamed or seared (but not deep-friend or smothered with flour or breaded). (I also enjoy the sheer sight of fresh fish and seashells being moved at the port or fishing docks.)

[2] I have a phobia of SLIMY REPTILES, eg snakes, and slight CLAUSTROPHOBIA—lock me up in a room or house for a week, expect me to go nuts! I try my best not to live in apartment buildings…

[3] I don’t eat STRAWBERRY, the fruit—but I am a big fan of anything strawberry-flavored (like ice cream, cakes, whip creams etc).

[4] I am an achingly voracious fan of the BEE GEES—from the days of “Cherry Red,” “I Started The Joke,” and “Marley Purt Drive” to “Jive Talkin’,” “Charade,” and “Fanny (Be Tender with my Love)” to “Night Fever,” “Tragedy,” “Boogie Child,” and “Alone.” So if ever you plan to coexist with me—under one roof—equip yourself with extra-sturdy earplugs and formidable tolerance, otherwise you will be BeeGeefied to the max.

[5] I don’t like DRIVING. I just don’t. I can—but I just don’t. Get it? And how do I get to be the Traveling Bonfires and the Vagrant Wind? Have you heard about magic carpets, web-glues (like the stuff that Spidey uses), and batmobiles?

[6] I am a MOVIE NUT. I watch movies like I do watch movies! Movies are my Jose Cuervo, chocolates, weed, and Prozac. And it’s a lifelong madness. When I was a kid, I used to watch reruns and reruns of horror movies (eg “Dracula” flicks, starring Christopher Lee, and “Frankenstein” films, with Peter Cushing, or any Vincent Price or Boris Karloff stuff), as well TV fares like The Three Stooges, Combat, Mission Impossible, and Hawaii 5-O. But historical cinema epics were my favorite: “The Pride and The Passion” (Frank Sinatra, Sophia Loren, Cary Grant), “Exodus” (Paul Newman, Sal Mineo), “White Slave Ship” (Edmund Purdom, Pier Angeli), so many more—and I wasn’t even ten, I think.

[7] I am a kickass FOOT MASSAGE swain. Want me to relax those beat-up soles, aching ankles and sore toes—with my magic hands? Call me... I will be there winter, spring, summer or fall.

[8] I am a HOUSE CHORES-CRAZY DUDE. I do love doing the dishes, taking out the trash, laundry work (folding and hanging them up neatly, included), cooking anything that you’d fancy, vacuuming/dusting, roof jobs and lawn work etc etc. Many times I am mistaken as the housekeeper or cleaning dude wherever I live or holds office. That is okay. I’d rather be left alone doing work, anyways…


[10] I COOK like I write and live and love. Cooking is my exercise regimen, my meditation time, and my passion and madness. Need I say more? Many times I offer to cook for friends’ parties—but the most awesome cooking activity that I really enjoy doing is: a cooking-and-poetry gig for a group of women. While I cook, they chill by the porch or living room (watch a movie or chat), after preparing their dinner—I read them my poems and get instant comments (for my revisions). You get the drift…

[11] I DANCE around a lot when I am working/writing (or cooking, doing housework etc)—imitating Mick Jagger or Beck or Chris Robinson or Michael Jackson as I pound the keys… while the TV is on and three computers are alive and well. I can’t write in and around a quiet idyll. My multitasking lunacy is freaky.

[12] I TALK A LOT after 12 midnight—like a bullfrog nursing a broken valentine or a cricket on talk radio with Quentin Tarantino. Just don’t mind me—close your eyes, I will quit when I see you asleep. Don’t tell me to stop… There is also a tendency that my hyper-activity extends to my slumber. For a slight frame such as mine, I usually explore the entirety of a king/queen-sized while asleep. Bad thing, I know. (Although, given certain situations and circumstances, I could also squeeze myself up in any available sleeping/napping space: couch, loveseat, park bench, terminal chair, desktop, bus seat, car hood, wherever whatever.)

[13] I don’t (or don’t usually) respond to PHONE CALLS, not at all. It’s not being hard-to-get, I never gotten used to the gizmo. I am so indifferent with PICKING UP or responding to my phone (housephone, cellphone, officephone, superhomeyphone). Email me, Facebook me—that’s better.

[14] I love BOOKS, I am married to books. I like the smell of books. I relish being surrounded by books. I don’t care if it’s a bestselling crap, avowed classic, or a Barbara Cartland confection—I love BOOKS, got problem with that?

[15] I KISS a lot. A relationship without long, sloppy, wet, prolonged kisses and holding is no relationship at all. Kissing, for me, is THE lovemaking; intercourse is the “fore/afterplay.” There is a glitch to this though: I am not SHOWY OF ROMANTIC AFFECTION in public. Maybe, it’s cultural/familial (I never saw my Mom and Dad kiss or hold in all their 50+ years together and it’s a big no-no to make out in full view of the community in the islands where I was born and grew up and came to be known as Pasckie The Superhomey)… or I don’t know. I can be a sizzling Dr Love within the confines of a private room, but I am as cold as ice in public. I don’t dig the cheesy bombast of proposing to a lady in a Super Bowl day or wrapping my skinny arms around her while in a Danzig concert or on a beeline at a Social Services building.

[16] I don’t drink MILK. Milk makes my stomach go helter-skelter.

[17] I am OCD big time, on and off. I can’t write when there’s clutter (or house mess that I didn’t induce), when I notice that my books/DVDs are disarranged, there’s dirt on the floor, my writing table is chaotic, and when dirty dishes infest the sink. (There’s also moments when I am the opposite though. NOTE: When you write my name, Pasckie--don't omit the "C" on the middle. That stands for "contradictions.")

[18] BONFIRES, yes bonfires. The smell of burning wood, the flickering lights... Since I don’t call myself a very “sociable” person, the stereotype kind—I attach myself to humankind via the spirit of the bonfire, which means, I like to build fires and gather people around it… There’s a grey line that separates a social dude from an organizing madman, I guess—when you talk about me.

[19] I love the RAIN. I don’t mind watching the rain all day, all week… My Cherokee name is A-ga-na or rain. Anecdote: One rainy summer day in India, my dada (guru) summoned me to go buy a loaf of bread in a store. But there was a heavy downpour. When I was kinda hesitant, he blurted, “Listen, my child, nature should not prevent you from accomplishing a task. Go ahead, you can always run between the rain—you can do it. You are the wise spirit!”

[20] I am a SOCK dude. I can go naked in the privacy of my batcave or in/around intimate moments with my beloved—but don’t take my freakin’ socks off!!!