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Archive for the ‘personal histories’ Category

it should proably explained good and early that we at the offices of casual friday do not subscribe to any particular suspicion group. the issue doesn’t even have to really do with belief systems, it is a deep seated indifference to the practice of religion in both the institutional and personal arenas. to put it simply, we could really give a fuck.

with that laid out nice and clear, despite our non-religous stance we can fully get behind easter. it’s one of our favorite holidays actually. it could be argued that easter has it all: it provides us with an occasion to wear a wicker crown of thorns around all day, brunch centered activities, the hunky jesus contest at dolores park, and honestly, it’s a zombie holiday, in that, you know, jesus “came back from the dead” and all… it’s all very good stuff.

one of our most foretelling memories also is an easter one. when we were but little girls in hawaii, our family was still occasionally taking half hearted stabs at catholosism. one particular easter, when we were very small, probably around three little years of age, our mother and grandmother escorted us bedecked in pretty dresses to a church. our memory is dim of many facts, namly owing to the great expanse of time spreading between then and now. we do remember a deep boredom, one that tends to be reserved for horrible oddesys, like 16 hour long greyhound rides to portland or endless car rides with people you don’t particularly like in a car with no working radio. so here we are little and bored, outside the sun is shining and in the distance there is a playground, devoid of children. both swings unoccupied… we fussed, we figited, we bothered our mother to let us go and play only to be shushed. so we took matters into our own hands, which is really the best way to get things done right and proper. we bit our mother. we bit her arm as hard as we could. all of our sharp pearly baby teeth closing down on flesh. our mother escorted us out of curch rapidly, we don’t remember what happened next probably a scolding,  the devil’s playground not even an option. we were never taken back to church again. we would like to claim a ghost of an inkling about our undeniably non tendencies, but really it was probably more beligerence than orical. but it makes you think,  perhaps if cassandra had used teeth maybe people would have listened to her portents a little closer.

with that said, may all your easter eggs be found, may your jesus’ be hunky, and may your scones turn out perfectly. oh, and don’t forget to leave a carrot out for the easter bunny.

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one third of the way deep into the year, and we, dear readers, feel as though we have a degree of accounting to do with you all. well, less to you and more ourselves to be honest. as promised, we wish to revisit our list of new years resolutions to share with you the progress we are making in these superficial goals we decided to strive towards this year…

1. still not care about how much we curse so long as we are learning several new vocabulary words a day.

status: smooth fucking sailing.

2. learn how to do a wheelie.

status: decidedly in progress still, as we cannot get past that point where one is done with eating shit and is actually perched on one wheel. needless to say, we have gotten over our fear of falling, which is a small victory in its own right.

3. travel

status: for real accomplished. early july- pdx. late july- road trip to montana with one of our favorite miscreants. september- budapest/prague/vienna/possibly berlin. december- maui no ka oi.

4. continue pure and total abstinence from emoticons.

status: completely free of insipid smiley faces and whatever bullshit pictograms are the vogue for communicating.

5. write every day.

status: though you dear readers often get the short end of our writing stick, we can whole heartedly assure you that writing every day is happening. we are currently working on a weird short story and tackling our voluminous correspondence.

6. learn to ride a motorcycle.

stauts: moto lessons in the immediate future with one of our motorcycle babe friends.

7. go on a long train ride.

status: for sure. budapest to vienna- 3 hours. vienna to prague- 4 hours. Prague to budapest- 7 hours

8. more house parties.

status: there aren’t enough days in the week.

we here at casual friday are feeling pretty good about things. perhaps a lowered bar is truly the road to happiness…

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no matter what one says, we here at casual friday, as well as you dear readers, are nothing more than social creatures of habit. party animals of repetition, if you will. and much like the preternatural pull that drew the silly malcontents of tv’s cheers to their saloon like moths to flames, it is these same cyclical tendencies that reach out  their tentacles to draw us into the non-traditional places that we physically revisit time and again.

recently we have arrived at the realization that we have become very much anti-social regulars at a few of the bay areas oft over looked social gathering sites, and because of this, we have begun to share casual nods with the other frequenters who elect to occupy the same soil and air as ourselves.

one of the great drains we pour our time down is at the piedmont graveyard. among other things, it’s a good place to listen to slow metal and take arty photos, write letters and have a beer, practice wheelies and eat shit, walk around and plot things. basically in a nut shell, it’s the jam. we recently moved our casual friday home office to near the great gates, so our frequenting has reached a pretty extreme level.

with that digression behind us, some of our favorite regulars are found at the piedmont graveyard. there are the requisite roving hordes of be-mohawked not-so-youths that travel in packs of five to ten drinking beer and taking photos of each other. there is the charming old italian man with a dog who always sings us a sweet song about better days we ourselves were never privy to be alive to enjoy. there is the nice lady who leaves flowers on random graves. there are the odd kids on their first dates who we always seem to crash our bikes in front of and horrify. the heshers who hang out at the crocker grave smoking weed and bullshitting. besides these decreasingly anonymous faces, we also run into many casual friday associates, colleagues, and contemporaries doing basically the same things as ourselves- being people watching weirdos.

it’s food for thought when you realize that your random stumblings take you through the well beaten paths of so many other souls. that really we are all just caught within one another’s gravitational pull, no matter how anti-social we are feeling.

with that said, we will see you around.

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the first time we ever spent time in the company of bikers was at the annual oakland hells angels saint patrick’s day party 9 long confusing years ago. through one mysterious means or another, we and two of our more belligerent colleagues of the time secured invitations. we still don’t understand how we went from talking about books with some elderly guy in a leather vest to tromping down high street en route to loud unknown things but sometimes its best not to ask to many questions.

now before we get ahead of ourselves, let us tell you this, as excited as our two cohorts and we were for this literal walk on the wild side, there was an undeniable nervousness, for none of us knew quite what we were walking into. after a long powwow over a bone, we decided that it would probably be best if we were armed. being a small posse of skinny loadies, we recognized that perhaps we were not really going to be up to the snuff for any potential hand to hand combat with the hells angels. we felt that any knives would be taken from us before we even could process them in our hands. so we did what we felt was the only prudent way to handle the weapon situation- we brought skateboards and figured we would go down swinging at least and that they would at least render us unconscious quickly.

all these fears were for naught dear readers. the president gave a speech about how no member was allowed to cause us any harm or duress as “these kids look like freaks, that’s how we use to look”, which is a loaded sort of compliment considering this was being said to a group of bikers with every sort of emblem of heavy freakdom bedecking their bodies, beards, babes and bikes. thus roughed with we were not. all members of our party were given shirts, stickers, nitrous oxide, beer, and front row seats to watch the grittiest strippers we have ever had the pleasure of seeing.

and that dear readers is the tale of our first time meeting the hells angels and one of our finest saint patrick’s days. it  also began a long and loose association with the hells angels we continue to enjoy to this very day.

all that said, may your beer be green, may you not vomit corn beef and cabbage on anyone, and may your drivers be designated.

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it’s an undeniable fact, everyone exerts some degree of an electric pull that draws some demographic to them like a magnet. for instance, one casual friday associate attracts cops like moths to a flame. another esteemed colleague draws accidents like locust to verdant fields. one has no control over these things, it’s better to just kind of maintain a casual awareness of it, and move on.

we here at casual friday have the distinct pleasure of being a lightening rod for crazies. why? no clue. they seek us out and they find us in the most unpredictable situations. they yell crazy things at us. sometimes they give us weird tokens to commemorate our distinctly unsettling and brief acquaintanceship.

we’ve had someone chase us into the street in the middle of the day by some psychological mess hiding in a bush trying to punch us. we’ve saved someone’s life who lept off the porch of building by grabbing their hand just as they began falling. we’ve been given a lighter by a wild eyed stranger saying it housed our soul. we’ve been gifted with the prophecies of gods and demons. we’ve watched people slice their chests open in front of our eyes. we’ve collected many many many acts of verbal vomit produced by the hunched casualties of the modern condition.

we certainly don’t seek out this attention. we’ve heard several learned hypothesis on this behavioral magnetism, though most of them center around having red hair and being born on a thursday both supposedly requisites for the attentions of the psychologically damned. at this point, we’ve been pretty desensitized, however every now and then some act of crazy really hits home. after all, we aren’t made entirely of valium and deep breathing exercises.

take that with you to your weekend dears. we’ll let you know if we meet any particularly interesting new people.

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pass it on.

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it’s monday and we here at the offices of casual friday have been besieged by a strange volley of news that has left us feeling slightly off kilter. we here are struggling with the loaded question of when one is presented with the retribution for wrongs inflicted upon the self and others, how come it does not feel wholly saturated in pure light and righteousness? if you can figure out the answer to that, please do drop us a line. until then, we will remain oscillating in the points between.

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we here at casual friday have been visited by a horde of minor pestilences, a rash of losing things, and just generally been acclimating to being part of that working reality.

none the less, in the process of getting re-situated and back into our regularly scheduled programs following our tropical sojourn, we have been deeply processing what we hope to be our most fun and fanciful set of new years resolutions ever.

as many of you readers know, and have felt yourselves, 2010 was the year of the darkness for many. so after eeking through the tsunami of bullshit that was last year, we have opted to really lower the bar as far as personal expectations of betterment go. because we here at causal friday have earned 365 days of whatever.

with that we would like to share with you all just what it is we here at the offices of casual friday will be working on in our professional and personal lives with equal measure…

1. still not care about how much we curse so long as we are learning several new vocabulary words a day.

2. learn how to do a wheelie.

3. travel (thus far 2011 is promising 1 roadtrip, 1 trip to paris, 1 trip to durham, and 1 trip to portland).

4. continue pure and total abstinence from emoticons.

5. write every day.

6. learn to ride a motorcycle.

7. go on a long train ride.

8. more house parties.

dear readers, we will keep you up to date on the latest involving our wheelie lessons, ever expanding fucking vocabulary, and  so on and so forth. we wish you only the most fun resolutions.

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since the time of captan cook, hawaii has been pretty world wide understood to be the place of dreams. the destination to forget the snow, the work, the mortgage, the dun colored obligations that populate ones day. this is a commonly dreamt dream not only of the continental united states, but of the world as well. it is a dream that hawaii has capitalized on and is now, thanks to the exit of sugarcane and pineapple, is the main industry keeping these islands financially afloat. it’s a careful relationship to navigate and sometimes shit really hits the fan. it is a hedging ones bets on peoples need for luxury and their ability to pursue it. financial recession can have even more dire of consequences for these kinds of economies.

when we were but young things in high school, we would make regular sport of harassing tourists and masquerading as them so we could get into fancy hotels, swim in their pools, and order drinks the color of electricity and charge them to random rooms. why? well, perhaps it was youthful insolence. but there was more to it than that, it was a bitterness that these people got to come to our home, enjoy the best, be served by us, our friends and our parents and ultimately get to leave with sunburns, less money, and no better or no smarter than when they arrived. our feelings were really summed up as the embodiment of the teenage axiom “you don’t get it”.  it being the claustrophobia, the beauty, the fragility, the poverty, the acts of desperate living, the close nature of island life, the rudeness of the visiting class…

hawaii has rendered us always conscious of our “visitor class” when we are abroad. we recognize that look of light disdain in the eyes of people who serve us, as it is a look that we wore many many many times. we are always aware of the cultural and sociological mythos that a physical location presents itself- that a place is more than palm trees and white beaches. that hula girls and jolly ukulele players go home at night to be real people and not bit players in a pageant of cultural fantasia.

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hawai’i pono’i

dear readers, we have neglected you for far to long. it is true. we acknowledge it. we seek to do nothing more than to win back your love. we will give you many words, many letters, many moments.

you find us deep in the blue black heart of the pacific ocean, the precise coordinates of our physical location being latitude 20-55’23” n, longitude 156-15’11” w. dear readers you find us in the deep verdant sticks of our youth. our very beginnings, when we here at casual friday were but young things deeply invested in the sense of claustrophobia that only those who grow up on islands can possibly understand. however island life is also heart-breakingly sweet. one quickly gets wrapped up in the palm trees, waterfalls, cliffs to jump from in to the wide open arms of the pacific, the warmth.

hawaii is a place of great contradictions. hawaii is seat of great strength and defeat. hawaii is the place of deepest welcome and brutality. hawaii is the land of dreams and of little opportunity. hawaii is where one always run into people one knows so ones personal p.r. is always on the mind. hawaii is everything closing at 9pm and drinking canned beer in your shorts on the beach under the moon. hawaii is the sound of rain and sea and wealth.

hawaii is the place that we call home. hawaii is where our family has been born and lived and died since the early sixties. hawaii is always the great thing looming in our minds, something we long for, cry for, but cannot return to on a permanent basis, at least not for many years.

we ourselves date our own personal histories with the state of hawaii to our very own conception. we were born in a hospital built by the last queen consort of the republic of hawaii and the granddaughter of the final king of the island kauai. we malama the aina. we know that ua mau ke ea o ka aina i ka pono. we speak pidgen. we enjoy spam musubis. we did not grow up in a place of freeways and billboards. we did not learn a traditional american history curriculum. we were deeply weirded out and titillated by what the mainland offered us when we first moved there ten years ago, and a decade later we still find ourselves feeling distinctly out of place there.

until our departure, in addition to a number of other topics, we hope to share with you, sweet readers, a history of something dear to us. we want to tell you about the sad princess ka’iulani. we want to tell you about the great battles and the ghosts that still march by night on the kings trial that trace their rocky ways from mauka to makai. we want to tell you of our own ghost stories and personal orientations to these islands. we want to give you sunburns, beaches, good weed, ditching school, close calls, and the very weight of the pacific ocean. we want to give you everything that is the composite of our most basic and elemental structures. we want to give you an understanding of our most core selves. and we shall. for we have the night is warm and long and we want to spend it in no ones company but yours.

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