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Abstract

esuit, this high priest of Pastafarianism, this loving HUMAN BEING, in his adventure here on Medium.</p><figure id="febc"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*-fRy9Dok9CKAXav98SpaGw.jpeg"><figcaption>That’s Armando to my right. I haven’t been able to get the Rebel Yogi (on my left) to join up with Medium. Yet. We’re all modeling Armando’s brilliant T-shirt design. I have only the best bouncers at my house parties.</figcaption></figure><p id="5723">BY THE WAY, here’s the story of Armando’s “Human Being” T-Shirt.</p><p id="3346">He was sitting in a waiting room. You know, like we all do. At a doctor’s office, or some such place, where they make you wait. With a clipboard. And 10 pages of forms to fill out. The same damn forms you’ve filled out over and over again, asking for the same information. As if it isn’t already well and truly embedded in the big data feeding trough in the cloud.</p><p id="3853">He came to the question of race.</p><p id="bf02">He looked at the options.</p><p id="15ed">He wasn’t feeling any of them. Kind of like how I felt when I cut my wrist, and was in the ER and they asked me my religion. For the form.</p><p id="4fa8">He drew his OWN BOX on the form. He wrote HUMAN BEING after it. And he checked the box.</p><p id="fe5a">That is the story of how his T-shirt came to life.</p><p id="2c57">We humans are <b>all </b>creatives.</p><p id="65ad">Support your fellow human beings.</p><p id="1a74">Here’s the story of my wrist slashing ACCIDENT.</p><div id="be08" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/and-then-my-boob-exploded-5343b4864834"> <div> <div> <h2>And Then My Boob Exploded</h2> <div><h3>A True Tale of Mayhem and Destruction</h3></div> <div><p></p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*sPRJnwEccUkfuMi6VfBD5g.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="7c59">This is the first ever poem/piece Armando published on Medium. I hope you’ll show him some love and support.</p><div id="c33f" class="link-block"> <a href="https://medium.com/contemplate/morir-so%C3%B1ando-an-elegy-for-heriberta-batista-43d5a0029aa0"> <div> <div> <h2>Morir Soñando</h2> <div><h3>An Elegy for Heriberta Batista</h3></div> <div><p></p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*IPLpI3XlQGuLJgij7leaNw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="e68a">Hey this i

Options

s a series!</p><div id="3c33" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/tales-of-an-airbnb-host-aac7995d6297"> <div> <div> <h2>Tales of an AirBnB Host</h2> <div><h3>Guest of the Week, #1 — Rohit Sky Dives</h3></div> <div><p></p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*jWieOPqWdcbECoNk2P2jdw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="57dd" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/tales-of-an-airbnb-host-74423fc783f5"> <div> <div> <h2>Tales of an AirBnB Host</h2> <div><h3>Guest of the Week #3 — Jeremy the Hot Worker</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*h81D-oFSRiW99eMZA1b5Ig.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="1f80">And so are these</p><div id="f4e2" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/nothing-in-common-1c3ec9861f08"> <div> <div> <h2>Nothing In Common</h2> <div><h3>A Simple Story #2 — The Tent</h3></div> <div><p></p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*1md9Y_i79J3tyBTOjMQmBw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="a2db" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/conversations-with-a-zen-master-ba610fbd60ae"> <div> <div> <h2>Conversations with a Zen Master</h2> <div><h3>Modern Day Koan Musings #1</h3></div> <div><p></p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*FzgKeAbSFwwbmOgebDVDWw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="0b9e" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/zen-57-370fd1d0ccc8"> <div> <div> <h2>Zen 57</h2> <div><h3>A Haiku Series</h3></div> <div><p></p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*OjCV6buXMrKRbuwnDYyFRA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Human Stories

Tales of an AirBnB Host

Guest of the Week — #2, Armando the Amazing

This is me and Armando Batista. He first arrived here a couple years back. Maybe it’s already been three years? Time really does move quickly when you are having a great time.

Armando was attracted to my listing for “Just a Couch”. Literally the title. Still out there too.

It was super affordable. Of course, the other alternative is couch surfing, which is free. But I share my fresh baked goods, so there’s that.

Toni Morrison had carrot cake. I have banana bread.

Armando is a self described multi-hyphenate. He’s pretty flexible and there’s not much he isn’t capable of doing.

He came for a couple nights. We had fun sharing conversation and eating. Then he left.

He found a friend’s couch nearby.

Then, to my surprise, he booked again, and came back.

And he kept coming back. Pretty soon, he had his own bedroom here. And was pitching in with household chores. He even started tagging along on my outings to go clean bathrooms and do laundry at other AirBnB homes I take care of.

We would listen to music as we worked together, sing, and tell story, and laugh. In the evening, we’d tell more stories, cook, bake, drink great beer, and sometimes sake, put colanders on our Pastafarian heads, listen to more music and dance around the kitchen.

We hosted other guests. We threw parties. We talked about past heartbreak and future love.

At one of our larger parties, a pipe burst in the basement and water was gushing into a room, all over the floor, in the middle of the event. I quietly, but with urgency, informed Armando about my discovery.

Unknown to the guests, he and I disappeared into the basement, and began to trouble shoot and solve the problem. I thought, wow, this guy. Any woman who falls in love with this guy will be so blessed. He has it all. Heart. Spirit. Determination. Critical thinking. Flexibility. Humor. Passion. And he’s learning to bake the best banana bread on the planet (mine)! What more could anyone want?

He fell in love. He moved away. He got engaged.

I love them both. I can’t wait to see their babies. And play Grandma.

Last night, on my birthday (!), he published his first poem here on Medium.

I hope you will support this wonderful spirit in a human spacesuit, this high priest of Pastafarianism, this loving HUMAN BEING, in his adventure here on Medium.

That’s Armando to my right. I haven’t been able to get the Rebel Yogi (on my left) to join up with Medium. Yet. We’re all modeling Armando’s brilliant T-shirt design. I have only the best bouncers at my house parties.

BY THE WAY, here’s the story of Armando’s “Human Being” T-Shirt.

He was sitting in a waiting room. You know, like we all do. At a doctor’s office, or some such place, where they make you wait. With a clipboard. And 10 pages of forms to fill out. The same damn forms you’ve filled out over and over again, asking for the same information. As if it isn’t already well and truly embedded in the big data feeding trough in the cloud.

He came to the question of race.

He looked at the options.

He wasn’t feeling any of them. Kind of like how I felt when I cut my wrist, and was in the ER and they asked me my religion. For the form.

He drew his OWN BOX on the form. He wrote HUMAN BEING after it. And he checked the box.

That is the story of how his T-shirt came to life.

We humans are all creatives.

Support your fellow human beings.

Here’s the story of my wrist slashing ACCIDENT.

And Then My Boob Exploded

A True Tale of Mayhem and Destruction

This is the first ever poem/piece Armando published on Medium. I hope you’ll show him some love and support.