So this is the painting we got on our vacation. We love it. If you go to jordanbent.com, you can see his other works. If I remember to find a specific email, I’ll have a plugin that let’s me post links :P

If you click on it, you can see it closer up but it distorts the image a bit.

Yesterday I was given some rather shocking and heart-breaking news. A peer, a friend, announced that he has Lou Gherig’s disease. Patrick is only 31 years old. So talented in a variety of media (design/film/music), you can see that he lives life to the fullest in his work and I’ve always admired him. Please donate to his foundation, which was set up to bring awareness of this disease to people. Go to www.patrickobrienfoundation.org (a direct link can be found at themayocynic home page also).

The other people in the community where we all became friends, despite heated differences of opinions on many issues, are all finding wonderful ways to help spread the word. There have been times I’ve been quite upset or saddened by things said on Newstoday. There have been times where it was constantly so mean-spirited and aggressive that I would step away for a day or two. But for the most part, I’ve felt that the majority of people there have been some of the most amazing people I could ever hope to meet. Both in talent and emotional capacity. I remember when one person was sounding rather suicidal, many people from Newstoday – particularly one in Canada – made long distance calls to the Bay Area to try and talk with him. Another person was downright broke and hungry…and someone else on Newstoday ordered and paid for a pizza to be delivered to him. Another guy ocassionally offers to do a random act of kindness for the next person who posts. More often than not, I can remember the poster asking for a donation to a good cause and not something for personal gain.

I haven’t met most of these people face to face, but I love them. They remind me that maybe the world isn’t really full of just the assholes I often come across. That there is still decency and good to be found, even on an online forum. We’re like brothers and sisters there. We fight, boy do we fight, but we still love each other because of bonds that run much deeper than we can describe. We at Newstoday are not for everyone. Some n00bs have left after just a day or so because, as I see it, they weren’t thick-skinned enough. But I swear they are amongst some of the greatest people I’ll have the privilege or desire to know.

We love you TF, Transfatty, Patrick. And we’re with you all the way.

On Thursday morning during our trip to Cabo, Ralph and I decided to go to the glass-blowing factory, having fallen in love with nice glasswork while in Venice. Since Thursday was also going to be the night that the two couples on the trip split for dinner to have a romantical evening, Ralph and I both put on less tourist-bum looking clothes in case we didn’t make it back to the room to freshen up before dinner.

The map that our hotel gave us showed the factory very close by, so we decided to just walk over. After one block past the main tourist drag, we were getting into some pretty shabby-looking territory. We weren’t too concerned though, because the glass factory was just right ahead, right? bah! We walked almost twice as far as we needed to and still nothing. Trying not to look too lost and even more out of place than we already did, we stood on one street corner and tried to discretely look down the streets to see if anything looked like it would be a glass-blowing factory.

“What are you looking for?”

We turn around and a man with a mild limp, carrying a 9-iron, is walking in the opposite direction of where we were originally heading.

“Glass-blowing factory,” I answer. He waves us over to follow him.

“Tommy Montoya,” he introduces himself, shaking both of our hands. We tell him our names and start walking with him, Ralph standing between me and Tommy-holding-a-9-iron.

Tommy: So where are you guys from?
Ralph: Nevada. Not Las Vegas though (which seems to be the only place in Nevada that most people think of).
Tommy: Aaaah. Are you Japanese (looking at me)?
me: No, I’m Filipino (I didn’t think telling him my true Filipino-Russian mix would matter).
Tommy: Aaaahh, sayanora! And what about you (looking at Ralph)? Full gringo?
Ralph: Pretty much, yeah. Full gringo.
Tommy: German?
me: Mainly Irish (I responded because Ralph isn’t much of a talker when it’s someone he doesn’t know and I didn’t want the guy to take offense).
Tommy: Irish! A salam malakim (to Ralph)! Sayanora (to me)!

It’s quiet for a minute. Tommy is walking with a swagger, Ralph is keeping an eye on the golf club and I’m keeping track of our surroundings. It’s easy to still see part of the road we were initially on that leads back to the strip, but the streets are becoming more narrow and less paved. I tell myself that the second we start turning down alleys, I’m going to try and gracefully bow us out of the rest of our little walk. At one point, in the middle of streets of dilapidated houses and mini-markets, a much nicer, well-taken-care-of house is situated along our route. As we pass it, Tommy crosses himself.

Tommy: Sooo, that’s a nice shirt (he says to Ralph). Is it Tommy Bahama?
Ralph (chuckling): No, it’s not Tommy Bahama.
Tommy: It looks nice, expensive. Are you sure it’s not Tommy Bahama?
Ralph (chuckling again): No, “Target.”
Tommy: Awww, c’mon it’s Tommy Bahama. Hey, do you want to go to the moon? Do you want to feel good?
Ralph: No, we’re good, thank you.
Tommy: C’mon, you must be looking for something, yes?
Ralph (chuckling): Just the glass factory, thank you. We’re good.

A little bit more walking, while Tommy keeps vaguely offering things to “take care of ” us, or yelling authoritatively in spanish to guys going into mini-markets and who nod their responses back. The mini-markets are getting fewer and far between, which is making me look for the best way back to the original street should we need to get there quickly.

Tommy: C’mon man, what you guys want? I have it. Ice, weed, X, anything. What do you guys want?
Ralph: We really just want to get to the glass factory.
Tommy: Meth, you like meth?
Ralph: Nope, just the glass factory.

Thankfully, we turn a corner and the glass factory is right there, coming out of nowhere like Brigadoon. Shuttle vans going in and out. Tommy yells something in spanish to all the drivers that pass by us. We stop before the courtyard gates.

Tommy: See? I got you here safely. Maybe you should give me a nice tip, yes? [Ralph, already reaching into his pocket, is taking out money.] Are you sure I can’t take care of you, amigo?
Ralph: No, but thank you for taking us here.
Tommy: No problem, amigo. You let me know if you want me to take you on the way back or take you to get some weed or acid. All the cab drivers know my name and have my card if you need me. [Holding out his hand to shake] I’m Tommy Montoya of Tommy Montoya Enterprises. I’ll get you anything you need.

Then Tommy walks back the way we just came, the sun glinting off the head of the 9-iron as he swings it around with one arm.

me: How much did you give him?
Ralph: 100 pesos. Enough to not show disrespect, but little enough to show we weren’t scared.

Well, we’re back from our week in Cabo. There were the good, the bad and the ugly moments that I’ll probably write about but at the moment, I’m just too tired to even think of starting something worth anyone reading. We did, however, walk away with a beautiful painting by a very talented artist. I’ve done a half-hearted search for a site or blurb on him, but no luck yet. Regardless, I’ll post a photo of our purchase in another entry.

Other highlights will include our conversation with “Tommy Montoya,” dinner at NickSan, discovering a fabulous restaurant and smoked Marlin. As you can see, almost all of it revolves around food, which is one of the things that bores me to tears about Cabo. Photos are few, because there was very little to take photos of, which really annoys me considering I got pulled over inside the Cabo airport for exceeding my camera and film quota for entering Cabo.

F-word, is it just me or does a bowl of cereal sound really good right now?!?!?? *patters off…*