Fish Tales by Michael Fisher
Fish Tales #2
January 16, 2008
Santa Barbara, ring the bell, school is back in session. The New Year has
arrived with new growth. The rains washed away all the ash and all the grit
and grime, the Zaca Fire made our summer a caustic one. We fell as the days
kept getting shorter and finally with Santa Ana Winds the ash fell one last
time on Santa Barbara, just in time for the holidays. The sun reached its
highest point in the Southern Hemisphere on December 21st and shortly after
this solstice, nourishing rains came to Santa Barbara pushing the ash back
into the soil. It is a time for new plans to be made for this new period of
the elevating sun. Together we rise, together we fall.
UCSB is the best school in the world. How lucky we are to find ourselves
here, now. For all you out-of-towners who come to Isla Vista, black out and
bloody up Del Playa Street, get a grip, get a hobby, find a passion. We have
had way too many weekend nights ruined by a corpse. Think of all the people
it takes to raise a child proper and how fragile life is before you let go
of the reins in our backyard. For all you visitors who come to I.V. give
love and respect, we give it right back to you and we welcome your kind. For
all you who hate on cops while they are working the grave shift reflect on
this: Cops sprint to trouble and distress while everyone else runs away. For
all you cops who write tickets for biking through a stop sign, I say to you:
Get back to workŠI guarantee there is harder crime out there. For all you
sorority girls biking around with a coffee in your hand and a cell phone in
your ear: Careful dear, talk less and say more. Your word is a currency and
sadly many of your economies suffer from inflation. For all you young
healthy beautiful people out there who burn time checking out pictures of
yourself on Facebook: Check your egos, find a passion - someone out there may
need your help, but they can't read your mind and they'll never find you if
you live inside your own head. For all you bums who use our shower: I have
nothing against people getting clean, but please respect our space. For
whomever owns Pita Pit: Hire a manager. For all peoples of the world: Turn
off the T.V., there is a thin line between boredom and fatigue. Maybe all
y'all need is a little stimulation.
Ice cold blood courses through my hand, sometimes it goes dead to the world
all ghostly pale, but we don't stop. Captain told me to damn all the
torpedoes. This Gaucho holds his pistol with a cold dead hand and I only
shoot to kill. In my territory, I am the law. To shake my hand on the court
when it is cold is like shaking with the Grim Reaper, to shake when it is
hot is to hold weaponry cast in the furnaces of Hephaestus and that's just
one car in a steaming train twenty five deep, constantly building momentum.
Each of us is just one link in a chain. Like the dirty dozen we are a rag
tag group, a pack of Gauchos who ride together throughout the West picking
fights with all comers and Santa Barbara, my love, we are always coming home
to you, we fight for you and your children, to give them something to
believe in. Our gym may be the dirtiest thing in sight, but it is our home
and no one comes into our kitchen and pushes us around. Trust me, you don't
want to bring a knife to a gun fight, son.
Peace, love, unity.
