Mauka of the Ala Wai

Morning Routines

It was already light inside; how could she still be snoring? Kirby looked around. Except the noisy birds, the damn squirrels, the talking walkers, and the scary-loud buzzing of the blowing machines, nothing else was up causing a commotion. In other words, a typical morning. So, like a typical morning, there was nothing to do but to settle back into the comfort and warmth of being snuggled in bed next to her.

“Hey, move over yeah? I can't sleep with you taking up the whole bed.”

Maybe there was enough time for a quick dream or two. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four...

“BWAP! BWAP! BWAP! BWAP! BWAP!”

“Make up your mind — are we waking up or sleeping through?!?” Kirby was annoyed. He'd almost fallen asleep and now it was too noisy with the alarm and Emily snoring right through.

“Ughhh. Is it morning already?” Emily's arm reached out from under the comforter and blanket towards the nightstand in search of her phone.

CRASH!

Emily's phone bore the marks of excessive abuse by a graceless oaf. She would hold onto it with two hands and still manage to let it slip through. Sitting on it was not unusual. Knocking it off her nightstand with here eyes closed — that was part of her morning routine.

So was the fumbling around on the wood floor, with eyes still closed and bumping her arm into the nightstand.

“Ouch!”

“Em, are you going to wake up? Shall we go eat something? Oh wait, I think the bathroom calls. Hey, wake up! Did you hear me? You gotta move over!” Kirby wasn't desperate — yet — but nature was yelling at him to hurry up.

“Kirb, ugh. Okay, okay, I'm awake.” She let out a big sigh as she sat up while he dashed off to get to the bathroom in time.

“Uh, little help?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“K, k, k. Geez Kirb what would you do without me?”

Ahh. Kirby was so happy to make it in time to the tree in the back yard and pee. He turned his gaze away from Em, up at the blue sky, “Ah, what a wonderful morning it is! I know it's going to be a great day today!”

-gk

The Stream of Conscience

Down a 15 foot rock embankment, located at the backside of my high school, there was a storm water drainage channel. Underneath it may have, at some point, been concrete and rocks to prevent the natural stream from meandering; now it was an overgrown waterway with trees, teeming with wildlife and mosquitoes. We're not talking 'deep in Manoa Valley' level mosquitoes where you walk into a cloud of them and come out having lost a pint of blood, but it was enough to be annoying.

It was a late Friday afternoon following band rehearsal when I decided to make a solo trip down there. The path, worn by frequent use, was easy enough to take. With slippers on, I walked past the toad eggs and tadpoles and stepped into the cool, bubbling, less than calf-deep stream. Dragonflies wandered past, a couple of crayfish snapped back behind some rocks, crickets jumping to and fro, and then I saw them — big fat tilapias, the catfish of Hawaii.

Long before television shows popularized noodling — catching catfish with your bare hands — people were catching tilapia with their bare hands. There's nothing to it, right? They're slow, fat fish in shallow water. I strove to catch one.

Nope.

They deceptively floated in place right up until they saw you close-in on them, then dash away. Ah, but I was smarter than a dumb fish. I picked up a medium sized rock and pulled my arm back slowly so as to not to alert the dumb fish. There I stood like a statue for a minute or so, waiting and watching for the right moment.

PLACK!

Yes! I hit the tilapia and it started to float on its side. But then I immediately regretted it. I walked up to it — it was still “breathing”. I reached down into the water to grab it and hold it upright.

“Boo! That's so odious!”

I looked over my shoulder to see the dragonflies, perched on a rock, as they shot arrows at me.

The crayfish boiled furiously. “Harumph! How pathetic was that?”

“Aw c'mon guys, can't you see that I'm trying to get him to recover from the hit?”

The toads were hopping mad. “Oh, so you threw a rock at her just for fun? What a great guy you are.” They turned back to their tadpoles. “Kids, look away from the monster!”

The tadpoles screamed in horror.

“Hey now, look at her. She's breathing just fine. All I did was daze her a little!” I was lying; she had googly eyes.

Crickets.

“Liar, liar, liar, liar!” The cacophony of their accusations grew.

She finally came to as she dashed out of my hands. Whew, what a relief! “Sorry about that, ma'am. Hope you're okay.” That was so lame.

She turned around and looked back at me. “If you're going to apologize come closer so I can see your face.”

I obliged. I leaned down to the water and looked at her eyes — they were still a little googly. “I'm sorry I threw a rock at you. I shouldn't have done that.”

She swam to the surface, and popped her head out of the water.

PHHHPPT!

And with that spit into my face, she swam away as the wildlife laughed at me.

I never did go back to that stream. If I ever do, I'll bring a big net and a bucket.

Just kidding. That stream goes into the Ala Wai and is polluted as hell.

-gk

The raspberry-blowing guri-guri mahu

— you don't understand, it's a balance of energy. when i thrust my fist fore and up to launch the ball, it requires an offsetting thrust in the opposite direction in order to direct the ball exactly where i intended it to go

— uh huh. you look like a girl with that backward leg kick

— and yet i've never landed the ball out of bounds and half the time i get a no-touch ace'

— you serve like a girl

— you're a girl but you don't serve like i do and you don't have the control that i do

— you should try to not kick

— i just told you why i kick

— but you look like a girl

— gender is irrelevant. look, it's my style

— mahu

— not what i said

— that's not a denial

— let's date

— you mean — air quotes — date

— and have sex

— you mean — air quotes — sex

— if i told you i'm not gay

— i wouldn't believe you

— hmm. maybe i should be gay then

— see, mahu

— [blows raspberries] let's get some guri-guri

— ha ha the raspberry-blowing guri-guri mahu

-gk

The Piper strolls through His mellifluous berceuse Ensued, mice parade

-gk

Aroused from winter T'is Leap Day Peter reckons Forty winks to add

-gk

Eh, how come no teriyaki plate? Oh wait, that's the barbecue beef. Hmm. Loco moco! Food comatose though, so nah. Hamburger steak! Brings back memories of eating that for dinner. So easy, I should make that and skip the gravy. Now that I think about it, that's just a loco moco without the egg. Geez, now I'm getting hungry. Skip the corned beef hash, I'll just make that when I get back. Mahi mahi! Oh wow, I haven't had that in ages.

Oh sorry. No, I'm not in line. Cannot make up my mind, yeah? For real, so hard to pick.

Speaking of fish, I could have a poke bowl on the other side. Fresh fish sounds good, not too filling. Oh, they have huli-huli chicken on that side, too. Maybe get that? Shoots, I came here to have plate lunch though. How sad if I go back and I didn't eat a plate lunch? Come to think of it, I heard Obama say he was going to come here to get plate lunch on his next vacation. How can you come here and not have plate lunch? Okay, okay, plate lunch, for sure.

Yeah, yeah, go ahead. Still making up my mind. Yeah, I'm sure.

Spam and eggs! It's been a few years since I had spam and eggs with rice. Wait, Spam and eggs or Portuguese sausage and eggs? Definitely not the bacon and eggs — I ate that at home before I came here. Hmm, I should get Portuguese sausage and eggs at McDonald's. What time did they stop serving breakfast again? Or maybe I'll just bring back some sausage with me? Yeah, I'll do that. I'll grab a couple of cans of Spam, too. Hah, the TSA guys are going to think I'm crazy for bringing Spam home in my carry-on.

Sorry, go ahead. It's been so long since I came here, and now I cannot decide. Hah, for real, everything is ono!

Let's see now, beef, pork, or chicken cutlet? I've never made cutlet at home so maybe? Oh, chili! Chili on rice, chili dog, oh look they even have a chili dog boat! Hmm, but Zippy's chili for the win, am I right? Wait, but if I go there, I'm going to have a Surf Pac bento for sure. No wait, I could buy their frozen chili at the store and bring it home. You know, I should get their Zip Pac bento for the flight home. Skip the chili. Hmm. Mix plate? Oh, I can skip the Surf Pac and just get a mix plate here! Yeah, yeah, that's what I'm going to eat. Thirteen-fifty?!? Wow, I know inflation and all, but how come so much? Oh wait, McDonald's meal is like ten, so, I guess not that bad, actually. Alrighty, mind made up, mix plate!

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten-twenty-twenty-five — aww dammit, line so long. Ah well, poke bowl it is!

Next time for sure, plate lunch.

-gk

This Green Land

The sky, at once a brilliant blue, overcome by shades of billowing grey clouds.

The green of the forest on the mountain, obscured, enveloped.

A flowing river of mist and rain, coming down the ridge.

And I, standing between mauka and makai, honua, swept into the rush of drops.

At first a gentle pitter-patter but then a bleating cacophony of a thousand brilliant taps.

Engulfed in this commotion, the mountain and valley indistinct, the fragrance of maile and tree fern rises with the breeze.

As quickly as it came, it dissipates, giving way once again to the infinite blue above.

The ground glistens, remnant drops sparkle in the glint of the sun.

Mahalo Lono, the thirst of our land and our crops are quenched, the verdant land blooms.

-gk

There was no joie de vivre after graduation. In a not-great economy, we were stuck in the paradox of looking for an entry level job but not having the requisite experience befitting someone who had been working for years during school at firms that weren’t hiring anyway. (Why bother trying?)

Or maybe this melancholy was brought on by being pulled out of the hazy but pleasurable stupor that was the life of a college student with an irregular schedule with a dozen different things to do but without the responsibility of having to earn my keep.

We were overeducated in fields with wildly poor prospects for employment, income, and if we’re being completely honest, little interest in participating in. Rather than excitement at reaching an end goal, it turned out it was the process alone that was exciting – something that became clearer over time – even though exhausting.

But eventually, as one must do unless a member of the gentry, we all ended up with jobs. We tried to tell ourselves that our souls weren’t being sapped by the artificial light from 5000K T8 fluorescent bulbs, the buzz of the recirculated air blowing through tinny vents, and the ambitious co-workers eager to climb the corporate ladder by sucking up to the upper rungs while shitting down to us.

And so, we sat there at commencement, eager to soak up all the bits of wisdom served up by the invited speaker, checking in and out while we stared into the empty abyss that was the unknowable future of post-graduation. Graduation filled us with the thrill of passing the milestone of matriculation, but also left us mortified at the emptiness ahead.

The day-after was anticlimactic; it was just another ordinary-day. The rhythm of humanity hummed on, unaware of our presence and our official entry into the adult world. The sun rose and people got ready to go to work and before the sun would set these workers returned to their domicile.

Eat, sleep, shit, and sometimes even shit at work, metaphorically and literally. Welcome to your life.

-gk

A sweet, light bun filled with sweet barbecue pork. You don't need to go to a dim sum place to find one; if you're lucky, the Manapua Man comes to your neighborhood. Steamed or baked? Dessert or savory meal? Eh, why not both?

-gk

Going to the beach? Make some Spam Musubi! Not enough time? Go get some from the store along the way — every place has it. Coming from the beach? Make wiki-wiki and go Foodland to grab some before they sell out! That salty Spam balanced against the nori and white rice is perfect after a swim. Make it two, yah?

-gk