10 September, 2001

Poem in 4d

[The following is in a series of entries (dated from 24 May 2001 through 3 November 2001) written as part of a 'dual-diary', along with one of my early girlfriends. Due to its nature as a dual diary, the text might not reflect my true feelings at the time.]

[Note that spelling mistakes and punctuation below this note are an integral part of the poem, as the title suggests.]

Gaily Over Every Step --
Or Not...

Naught Ought Win
Except Reasonably Insane 'Cero'...

Need Eric Except(sp?) Dis Situation?
Oh, Naked Ladies Yonder!
Why 'Ren't Injustices Tapered Instead? Now God
4 Terrifying Illegalities Fly, Yet I No(sp?) Good
Eric Always Comes Home...
Victories Among Lovers United Endure Deadly
Enticements -- More Of Them, I Own, Nowadays --
Really, Eric, Must An Individual No(sp?) Inklings Not Got
Nearer Old Windows?

Only Non-tainted Love Yearns

Ordinately, Not! ... Egad,
Now Eric Exists Dependently
Even Against Chilling Hours:
2 'Dem -- And Yet...
Terrifyingly, Herboso Attacks Terribly,
And R Returns In Very 'Eonic Stipends...
Kan(sp?) All ('Niverse-decidable)
Ejhs 'Xemplify Injuriousless Scintillating Times?

Hopefully, Oll(sp?) Won't.
Eric Rises Icarusly; Can
R Exist Also? Dire Jests Undercut Such Top-priority Sayings...
P Rends Overhead, Viciously Exploring Saturn(beautful, no?),
'Lieu Of Very Expensive
Amber, Now Deep Within/
Caves. Eric, R, 'T.al. Associate In Never-never-land.
Erkingly(sp?), Nothing Decides Lovelessness Except Superior Standards 'Nd Excitably Supine 'Ssinineness!

23 June, 2001

My Father

[The following is in a series of entries (dated from 24 May 2001 through 3 November 2001) written as part of a 'dual-diary', along with one of my early girlfriends. Due to its nature as a dual diary, the text might not reflect my true feelings at the time.]

Often when I tell people about my father, they tell me that they are sorry, or that they would have hated a father like mine. Even my own father is fond of the phrase "I know I haven't been a good father to you..." And my mother often tells me bad things about my father; for example, I mentioned to her that I'd be getting another car through my dad in August, and her response was that if my dad charged me too much or anything to tell her about it.

No one particularly likes my father, I suppose. He wasn't a particularly good father in some ways; I'll grant that, of course. He wasn't the type to ever go out and do things with me, nor was he the type to talk to me about much of anything in particular. He was somewhat strict, and he was very physical. Had I been another person, perhaps it would have scarred them, but for me, it was the perfect way to be raised.

From my father, I learned discipline. I learned that my intelligence would never be enough to allow me to succeed in this world. I learned a good work ethic, and an intense drive to do more than everyone else. I learned to not be satisfied with life as it is, and to forever achieve higher and greater things. I learned how to be a leader, how to drive a sale, and how to be a good speaker. From my father, I learned whom I am today.

I have this recurring dream that happens every so often (how often I cannot remember) where I (and a friend) am running from something and I use some type of mechanism (involving a floating type object above me) to allow myself to be able to jump a higher than normal distance. Eventually in my chase I come to a wall that I can pass but my pursuer cannot. While they are figuring out a way to get around this obstacle, I struggle to go even further, which at first seems impossible. But then I talk to a person there that tells me of a door that we're really not supposed to go through, but I open it anyway because of the intense rush I am in to get away from the person who's chasing me.

The doorway takes me (and my friend) to a whole new place, and the first thing I do is try my best to keep my pursuer from getting through the door to this place as well. We hold the door for as long as possible, then my friend's basketball drops from his backpack on accident, and it rolls to a passerby in this big but dull and old looking hallway. The man turns to us for a second with a snarled look on his face, then he stomps on the basketball so hard that it starts to deflate. He scowls once more for good measure, then he kicks the ball to the other end of the hallway.

My friend looks at me, and we both silently agree that here we won't find any new friends. Then he motions towards the now-deflated basketball, and I look to see that it rolled to a stop right on the foot of this huge guy with a deformed face and a hand that looks to be made of metal, or at least a metal glove of some sort. He walks up to us with the most evil and menacing face I've ever seen, and at just that moment, my friend pleads out "All we want is to just get out through this door!", which of course is a blatant lie, but he doesn't know that. Anyway, this huge guy slams his fist into side of the door, halfway hitting the wall beside it, and somehow the two fuse together, making it all but impossible for our pursuer to ever get through this door, but at the same time making impossible for us to leave whenever we might choose.

So we start exploring. The first room, right across from the door we entered from in the hallway, is an arcade. For some reason, neither I nor my friend has ever seen anything quite like it before, despite it being fairly normal for an arcade. My friend starts playing some game, while I go over the tokens that seem to have mysteriously appeared in our purses. We have six each, and they seem a little bulky for their use, but otherwise look okay. The writing on them describes a government that we have have for some reason never heard of, but now that I think back on it, I am pretty sure it described something very similar to what the United States government has in place.

After finally convincing my friend to leave with me, we take a left in the hallway and where there used to be a bustling center of some kind, reminding me of perhaps a bus or train station, now the hallway extends out onto a pier. As I get closer to the pier, I notice that ahead and to my right looks very familiar, despite it just being a corner that I will eventually look around once I walk up to it. Before turning the corner, I stop to reflect about how I feel. Perhaps I have this feeling of déjà vu because there is danger past this corner? But no, it is simply because I have dreamed this dream so often and this part is the part that I will never forget, even whilst dreaming another dream.

I hear a phone ring beyond the corner, and it all comes back to me. Slowly, I turn to look and I see a small store owned by a man with thick black hair. He is sitting at a desk behind the counter, and you can tell just by looking at the place that this guy sleeps there as well as works there. On the walls of the store are records and LPs, some one-of-a-kind (or rather would be if he were in the era of CDs and DVDs), and other things are fairly strewn about the store, all available to be bought. There are guitars and drums and books and even knick-knacks all over the place.

He turns to pick up the ringing phone, and I can finally see his face. And I am sure, absolutely positive, that this man is my father, back in the days before I had ever met him. "Hello?" he answers, a bit timidly, certainly not the way you should answer a business phone. But it is not a customer on the other end. It is his mother.

In awe, I lean back to listen to his conversation, not knowing what he might say. And as I listen, my heart fills with a sad happiness. I am very much a family-oriented person, but never in my life have I ever met my grandmother on my father's side, my abuela. And so as I listen, I start to cry involuntarily. Thankfully, I do not get a chance to cry more than a few tears, though, as I notice a couple of people with a lot of fancy photography equipment approaching the pier.

I try to block them out, as I want to listen to my father in his youth like this for a longer time, but it becomes obvious that they are here to take his picture, and my curiosity overwhelms me, so I approach them.

It turns out that they are here to sell pictures, and my father is a really good customer. They show me a few pictures they took of his girlfriend, and ask since I'm a friend of this man's, would I like to buy a framed picture of this woman? I'm not sure why, but I agree, and I watch as the other man starts taking pictures of my father. My dad turns to look at them with a smile, though it looks slightly forced. He seems to be friends with them, but it also seems that they annoy him a bit too much and come by a little too often for his tastes. Nonetheless, he motions that he will be with them in but a moment, and my father returns to speaking to his mother on the telephone. I feel a twang of guilt about being seen with these photography people as the first time my father has ever seen me.

[The rest of this entry is lost due to data corruption. Let this be a lesson to always back up your important files.]

24 May, 2001

First Entry in a New Diary

[The following is the beginning of a series of entries (dated from 24 May 2001 through 3 November 2001) written as part of a 'dual-diary', along with one of my early girlfriends. Although it was a dual diary, the below archive is only of those entries that I wrote by my own hand, making some references perhaps not entirely clear. Also, be aware that due to its nature as a dual diary, the words may not necessarily reflect my true feelings at the time, since feelings of the other person had to be taken into account at the time of writing. Note that names have been changed to protect the shy.]

This is the first entry in a dual-authored diary concerning the lives of both myself (Eric J. Herboso) and one other ([Jane Doe]).  Yesterday, the two of us moved into an apartment together.  It's quite nice, actually, and despite the kitchen sink being the absolute tiniest I've ever had the occasion to see, I feel that the studio apartment is much better than I had envisioned it would be.  But more on that later...  For now, let me give a little background.

[Jane Doe] and I met each other over the internet some time ago and have since grown quite fond of each other.  Indeed, as things are presently, I fully intend on staying with her for the remainder of my life (and unlike [Jane Doe2], I sincerely believe this to be an obtainable conclusion).  [Jane Doe] is good to me in ways beyond measure, and she is very forgiving.  I am totally blunt and honest with her, and she appreciates that fact fully.  In point of fact, she knows all about my past relationship w/ [Jane Doe2], and yet still loves and forgives me completely and utterly.  To [Jane Doe], I feel both an intense love and a great debt.

I come from Saraland, AL, just north of Mobile, having lived in the area for the whole of my life.  My parents (Fernando E. Herboso & Joanne Tomaso Herboso) still live there, although I have since moved here to be with [Jane Doe].  Truth be told, I came as a result of both my feelings toward [Jane Doe] and a fear of being left alone to fend for myself stemming from [Jane Doe2]'s abrupt exit from my life.  Anyway, the bottom line is that I've started a new life here, and I hope to finally be able to get my shit together.

I've been here for a few months now, although it most certainly does not seem that way.  To this date, [Jane Doe] and I have lived in her father's house.  As of yesterday though, we have moved into our own place.  I am reminded of when I first moved to 1616 Masters Drive w/ [Jane Doe2] so very long ago.  I feel good, yet at the same time a bit wary.  I am adamant in maintaining this relationship to the very end, and even beyond.  I am in love.

By the way, this diary of dates, events, concerns, emotions, and basic way of life is intended to be used for many purposes.  Here, you will be able to see the absolute truth from both me and [Jane Doe], as well as an accurate portrayal of life during this time period.  You will also find very intriguing insights for historical, genealogical, and other purposes.  I intend this to be a manuscript not written on paper nor clay tablets, but one reserved for the immensity of the internet, available for viewing from any and all who might possibly be interested.  Oh, and one more thing.  This manuscript is in the public domain, and may be reprinted in whole by any who wishes to do so, although I do ask that you credit both [Jane Doe] and myself for any such quoting.  If reprinting in part, or else with any editing, be it for proper spelling or anything (other than bracketed comments easily distinguishable from the original text), then please include a link back to the page where you found this, or if not available, then the following e-mail: EricHerboso@aol.com.

[added April 2, 2003: My new e-mail address is EricJHerboso@yahoo.com. I hope this address to be permanent.]

[added 1 Feb, 2005: the yahoo address is still active, but my main address is now ericherboso@gmail.com.  Obviously, if this address changes further in the future, it will be easy to find via my LJ profile page.]

[added 29 March 2012: This entry is now hosted on blogspot. This switch from private to public includes edits to original names which were left unedited in the private LJ version. The ericherboso@gmail.com address still remains active, and will most likely be my permanent email address.]

Now, let's see...  Where to go from here?  Ah, I'll start with a historical note for those of you that are reading this some time from now.

Today for the first time, a US Senator switched from the Republican party to an independent position, effectively changing the power of the Senate to the Democratic party by a margin of fifty Republicans, forty-nine Democrats, and the one lone independent.  Trent Lott, the current majority leader will become the minority leader as soon as this transfer of parties occurs.

In science, a study was released today showing that the well-known and widely accepted placebo effect doesn't truly exist.  Of course, this study has to be verified by others in similar experiments, but it is a major overturn for the medical industry if true.

The movie Pearl Harbor was released today in theaters.  I'm not particularly interested in seeing it, though, as I view it as an unimportant product of the film industry.

The war in Israel and Palestine is getting worse...  Less than a week ago, Israel sent jets to bomb Palestine, a major increase over the choppers they had previously been sending.  I wonder if by the time you read this their war will finally have stopped...

The final episode of the Star Trek: Voyager series ended today.  I missed it due to my moving into a new place.

In physics, light has recently been shown to accelerate through a known liquid, although the majority explain it away as a misperception of the event by an outside observer.  The arrow of time does not seem to be broken.

Also, someone recently came up with a way to create a time machine via rotation involving the use of circularly curved light at a sufficient slowing of speed (and hence excited energy) that mimics the results of the rotating universe theory from early last century and the rotating dense packet of stars theory from the mid 1900s.  This version on the H.G Wells theme is on a much smaller scale, though, and is therefore much more feasible (but still not realistic, concerning the problem of having to slow light down accordingly).

Since Tuesday of this week, I have had a bad cold, but today I am starting to feel better.  'Tis a pity that my love, [Jane Doe], seems to be catching it now.  I feel somewhat responsible, but not overly so.  I still am discontent with the idea of sickness, however illogical my feelings may be.

I am working at a company called Center Partners, and I have been for a few weeks now.  It's not a bad job, paying $10 per hour, which is nearly twice the minimum wage of $5.XX per hour in this country.  I am impressed with the company, especially in light of the current hesitant economy.  Unfortunately, the particular client of which I have to deal with is Qwest Wireless, which I feel is a badly run company.  At the very least, it is much worse than Verizon Wireless, which I had as a cell phone provider back Mobile, AL.

[Jane Doe] works at Hancock Fabrics.  It, as you might have guessed, is a fabric store in the local mall.  She gets minimum wage there, and they work her horrible hours.  I am sure she will say something of it later on in this diary (you'll know which entries are hers by the obvious lack of spelling ability).  For some reason, she likes the place...  I'll never understand women.  Gladly, she's quitting and will be joining me at Center Partners soon.  Actually, not till July sometime, but that's as soon as it is possible, since she will in the meantime be in Europe on a vacation she planned quite some time ago with other members of her high school class.  Her mother will be with her.  She hasn't seen her mother in a while...  I'm sure she'll touch on that subject, too, when she writes.  There is certainly much that I believe she could say.

Anyway, I suppose I should end this entry here.  I have written long enough, and I have other things to get to today.  I'll write more at a later date, though I can't promise that when I do, it will be exceedingly interesting.