Otro Dia

The last day of the year. This should be a reflective entry...about how time passes so fast, and there good and bad memories this year. but i think i say that enough. Today will probably be like most days. I was considering watching Alien vs. Predator: Requiem but decided against it. Instead I went to pay a Home Depot bill (there goes most of my money) and trying out something [Bamboo Fun] I bought four months ago but haven't tried out. Supposed to be a edit/paint/draw/write tool for the computer and it comes with an electronic drawing board (main reason for purchase). Although I can't draw or paint...maybe it can still be of use. I'll put something up here to show off my skills. Otherwise today is about cleaning the backyard(like most of the week has) and trying to enjoy what's left of vacation...imu

post-holiday

Christmas is over and just New Years day is left for vacation to be over. I did not see my dad, but I had the chance. I think I shied away because I didn't know what to say. We didn't talk before either, so not much difference. But maybe it had some sentiment of closure. I won't feel so bad if I exploit him in my writing.
Is there anything else worth writing on here? Upcoming events, no? Life Crashes, no? Today is solely December 29th, a few days after Christmas and few more before New Years. South Texas cold front getting ready to leave.
Vacations need to last longer. imu

Pocho?

I haven't read reviews or criticism of this book, but after reading Pocho by Jose Antonio Villarreal I am confused by his intent for the novel. I see a battle between the "old culture" and the "Americanized" but each seems to be portrayed by its negative. The machismo of the Mexicano and ruthlessness of American. The most I saw of the pocho, that person caught between two of everything, is Richard's separation from both. Perhaps this is an early description of pocho, and maybe it has changed. The interest this book has generated is mostly to attempt and analyze the evolution of the word. But I felt the book was a coming of age story, halfway through the realization of pocho. So much was left out. The interaction of culture is ommited, only when mentioned in terms of "white", "Italian", and "Jap". Maybe it's just California, and a way of living I haven't seen.

Release

It seems nearing his 40's my brother has let go of his rage towards our father. My brother and I talked earlier and we are planning to meet with our dad. It has been a couple of years since I have seen him, I don't know how many for my brother, but perhaps more. What is to be expected? We have had separate lives for 14 years. I feel that I may be exploiting my father for the sake of writing. But maybe that's how I feel about everyone. In some way, I hope my brother doesn't call for us to meet up, but I don't know how to explain this feeling. It is not dread, it's not knowing where to start or finish. Maybe for my brother it is closure. I can't let go that death is always near, and on some days I wonder how I would react to my father's death. Maybe my brother is thinking, it's best to say goodbye one last time. Maybe he's noticed age is fragile.
Everybody else doesn't feel the same. They would still see my father of 15 years ago, instead of a mid 60's man, arthritis, unable to work as before, aged by the south texas dirt.
What will I see?

Fish sticks

Is what's for lunch, or at least they appeared to be fishsticks [with no bag]. Meanwhile, a random fly picutre, which was stuck on my indoor windowsill for the past months. I couldn't bare throwing him away without encasing it in some photogenic amber. Maybe it seems insignificant, but when I pay attention I notice many flies dead on the window. Reminds me of how it's not common to see dead flies when we live with the blinds and windows open. We are also encased. Adios mosca, aver si nos encontramos otra vez.

Otro "Spoiler" Movie Review

© Mindlight Films


What I had seen of Welcome Back to the Barrio (2006) from IMDB looked promising, but I read up on the wrong movie. And little did I know this was another “Amigo Films” production until the opening of the credits. I made the instant connection to Chicano Blood (2008)and though...crap. But this review doesn't go that way because I was surprised by the decent acting and cinematography. It's another movie about duality and the course of lives after friends have separated. Okay, so the idea isn’t new aka Boyz n the Hood (1991), but the movie feels more like home (and not East L.A): bilingual dialogue, protective parents, and ese amigo that never seems to do right. Moves slowly and that’s the pace of the day up to the point of the party which dragged for a while. Still in the end it's all violence, sacrificing a life, and there's nothing to do but leave until next time. Asi es el barrio? That's what the movies say.

Welcome Back to the Barrio (2006)

Mindlight Films in association with Orta-Mex Films
Directed by Jaime Mariscal
Produced by David J. Miller
Co-Producer Juan J. Frausto
Written By Jaime Mariscal & David J. Miller

Staring: Ramses Jimenez, Tony Ramirez, Antonio Zurito, David Marrero, Christian Rousary & Yara Santillian

---

Side Note 1: Amigo Films

Side Note 2: instead of trying to make the next blockbuster action film, why doesn’t Damian Chapa produce algo mas honesto? Pero, don't we love those big films anyway?

This Morning

It's monday morning. I'm awake at 7 a.m. as every other day, but today will be different because it's the official beginning of my two weeks of from work. I haven't had two weeks off in three years. The last time I had one week off from work I did so to attend an intensive school program. So, this should be nice, but I have to remind myself to make it worthwhile. I have have the tendency to loaf inside.
As a note to myself, I will be taking photos and posting them online. I will be watching movies, but reviewing them here. and when I read or write, I will talk about it. It's not enough to simply do something and cherish an accomplishment; now the accomplishment should be shared to develop meaning.
I go back to work on Jan. 5th. I have until then for more than one meaningful/expressive occasion. If I consider when school starts, then that is Jan. 12th. I have a lot of time.

Random Lines:

Empty
is the space
falling between
your lips,
abriendo
para decir
vacío

Azltan is Reborn

Unfortunately, it's in a gangster film where Chicano strength transforms into a story of ruthlessness. The plot is simple: Chicano fights against the Russian, unable to overcome the guilt of their previous conquest. I was interested about the possibilities, because I’m always up for blaming others, but I want good acting with it. The film didn't feel Chicano, and the attempts of culture,some candles in view and a mother curing with an egg, are lame. All the wrongs aspects are glorified:violence, lesbians, and sexuality. Wrong because the women appear naked as accessories.
If there was any admiration of the movie, it was for attempting to create a story where a Chicano becomes an urban folk hero.
But really, the movie was just terrible. Terrible for whichever ethnicity would have stared in the film, and much worse for calling itself Chicano.

Chicano Blood (2008) (V)
Director:Damian Chapa

Writers:Damian Chapa (writer)
Ignacio Rinza (writer)

Release Date:13 May 2008 (USA)

Long Enough

It's been long enough. Now I'm back. For good I say this time, but I haven't proven myself yet. On the academic update: Three A's. Folk medicine was a bit tough, but very educational. Beginning to work on my thesis. I plan to do a lot of reading. I'm starting on the list. Any suggestions? I will also begin writing movie reviews. Currently I'm watching Chicano Blood (2008)(V). Should be up later today. The interest in film was there, increased with the film course and directed by an introduction to film theory by Chon Noriega.
It's good to be back, and even more so to be asked. gracias
-ic

Tired

It's been another month. It seems like I keep thinking about posting here, but I don't really do it until I reach 30 day intervals. What's the news for today? I am taking courses, and laugh when I think that I am supposed to graduate in close to a year. I don't think I'm ready. I can graduate, but now with the fullest pride I should have in my writing and knowledge. How much can I ever know?
Life has just been living, and somewhat enjoying. When it gets hectic days just pass. I wanted vacations (just for writing) but I don't think it will happen until I actually graduate. But I suppose it should be just for the sake of showing my writing to classmates. This semester is definitely different: not a single poetry course. That means it's all self motivation. After a year and a 1/2 of being encouraged by professors, now it's up to me. Have they helped me enough to make me self reliant? Somewhat.
Anyways, if tons of people would read this I would ask for advice and suggestions, they would write to me about their own problems in school or the past and I would make a connection. But since this is only for you, I hope this helps you understand what I'm feeling. ta

En Busca de Santos

For some odd reason, I had the urge to search for movies of "El Santo", the famous Mexican Wrestler. There was some reason to it, but my search was fueled by an uncommon sort of need to connect to someone I don't know. Maybe it was in part to prove that there are many Santos movies in south Texas, that in Austin there are some things which cannot be bought.
The background to the story begins when I went to the "Half-Price" bookstore, and bought a book about old Mexican Posters. The cashier was nice and seemed interested, so he mentioned how he has been searching for Santos movies. That was enough to entice me on this small search.
I have to admit I was a bit disappointed at the results. I went through three blockbusters and found nothing, eventually I went to Hastings, which I knew I should have gone to first, and found one Santos movie.
Now, I expect to burn it and send it to this random guy I don't know. I don't need a thank you or anything, I just need to feel accomplished in some weird task that I set on my own.
I thought a lot about the movies that I saw though, looking through the Mexican movies...most of them were of chistes or narco movies. I hardly saw any serious film in there...not saying the rest wasn't fun, but few of the films could be considered extraordinary. And I remember thinking to when I saw the Santo movies. But I can't be sure if I saw entire movies or just clips. I'm sad because I don't know just how much I am influenced by my youth. Sometimes I wish to think that being eccentric is due to things I observed from my father or mother, but honestly, I don't know.
So that was my small quest. I found "Santos".

Alcoholic

When I drink in the middle
of the week,
I am alcoholic
toxic liquor
and soda
spitting words
come from your mouth
and simmer my skin.

Can alcoholics love
and stop drinking
for seven days?

Can alcoholics hold
a job?

can they be happy?

Return Trip

After taking my lil brother and nephew on a college tour, I am extremely tired and maybe humbled and more confident. I know, it doesn't make sense, but give me a chance to explain. I think I have become too comfortable in south Texas that I don't realize "I" am not the majority. Turns out I can still feel uncomfortable in certain parts of Texas. I almost felt ashamed.
On another note, I have gained a bit more pride for the campuses in the RGV. I can't say that UTPA doesn't try to do well or doesn't have good staff. Unfortunately, each campus will have it's own problems, like inexperienced staff and bad architecture. However, after visiting three campuses, I still think UTB is up there in aesthetics. The border wall may not help in that sense, but as a amateur comedian from the RGV once said, "Why can't we put up art on the wall?"
Anyways, just some random thoughts, and for those who actually care, I spent lots of money at the Half-Price Bookstore (in my case this means $100.00, yes, I'm cheap). Most were "Chicano", but i did find some good film and art books. I can't wait to go back and buy more books. I guess that's it, no random poetry for today. I submitted some poems before I left on the trip and hope at least one gets accepted. If none get accepted, I will laugh.

About time

Seriously, almost a month since I last wrote here? I guess it makes sense since that's about the time that I started class. That class has been incredible. I mean, I'm not well read in American poetry, and I'm less educated on Latin American poetry. It makes me want to try to recreate each of their methods but also further them. Even if I get a B (which I really hope I don't), I won't regret taking this course. I have been re-educated, and interested in taking more Span. courses, especially once I sat through lecture. Why didn't I know about this before, and why don't others know? Anyways, it has given me good ideas for writing poetry.
Otherwise, there is too much to say about this past month. I have been nutritionally deprived because of the course, ridiculous how I have to take replace class with lunch.


I have had a lot of ideas for writing, but haven't gone through with any. Run across some cool blogs, poem ideas, letters, testaments of will. There's still time.


I should just use this blog as a file for thoughts.


I also attended a Border Wall protest held at UT-Pan American, and decided to take photos...I should have walked.

Multiples

There is much I could talk about. I finished reading Luis Valdez' Zoot Suit and other plays, in which Zoot Suit always gets the most attention, but after some cinema appreciation, I enjoyed the nature of his other experimental plays. Probably not new concepts, but the play within the play. It was unexpected...maybe that's what I enjoyed. And then I'm thinking of side projects, which don't get started. I have to start somewhere, right? Start small or go big? Why not just get started and then I can forget everything about worrying...why not ask questions and find the answer instead of waiting. I wait too much. But while I wait for more ideas, let me take care of an errand at school (let me do). And nothing was taken care of...it actually became more complicated. Life hates me...lol. So as not to leave on a pessimistic tone, I saw a good person a few moments ago. He is an excellent poet, and above that, genuine.
* a thought I had in class

las mujeres siempre
seran chingadas

Rain

The rain has been going on for a few days now...4 I think, and it was perfect for my mood before the 4th of July holiday began. For no reason, or maybe perhaps because I wasn't happy with the way the Juvenile Detention Center (JDC) project has been turning out, I was in a rough mood on Thursday and Friday. I came up with a solution, and I hope it works, but I'll have to run through the supervisor first.
Anyways, the rain should be here a few days more and now I'm really enjoying listening to the different sounds, and the cold of the rain. The rain has a way of making it lonely for human visitors. Perhaps most people want to keep dry, or consider it gloomy. There is some comfort in the gloomy, if it's considered to be that. So everybody stays away, except the flowers, slugs, flying ants, and a toad which I indulged my biology background with. They cherish the showers a bit more, the water to be a rebirth, their old homes washed away, but also calling them to be in daylight, a winter day in summer.Unfortunately, i think most of them will end up dead. Either from vehicles, bug zappers, or just their natural tendency. Rain, procreate, die. The toad caught me by surprise because it was just massive. He looked comfortable, the way I wanted to be, inside a shoe. I didn't take the photo, btw, but it looks great.

Pachuco

In the midst of reading Luis Valdez' Zoot Suit, I began to realize again that I am a slow reader and I am glad that I am not repeating (in my works), the ideas created by Valdez, in particular the gang aspect of barrio life. I'm not sure how well it would work for poems anyway. But I'm appreciating his use of the Pachuco. I am curious to know if it is common to have a character jump between narrator to character. It reminds me of a Jean luc Godard film, where the story is being narrated in a distinct manner by the character.

A small line I have been playing with as I try some new exercise along a lake:

the white
ghost shell
dried
on sulfur
fumes

Japanese White

If people can be aware of their dreams, then I was two days ago. I had another reoccurring dream: me trying to get past a cliff. Then I lost control of the dream. I was now showering and noticed myself in the mirror being embraced by a pale looking body. I thought I stopped the dream. But as I felt myself moving towards the bathroom mirror, wondering if the face would appear next to me, the pale face became my own pale face. In reality, I muffled a scream.
Looking back at the dream, I think I was always that ghostly figure. I realized I couldn't see the mirror and the reflection simultaneously. I was seeing myself embracing someone.

On another note, my first publication is official. Now I have more to start working on. Please follow the link: Boom Town

Thank you,
-ic-

Casket

A co-worker died a few days ago and even though I wasn't extremely close to her, watching people mourn has a way of making me think of my own mortality, and also others. It was surreal maybe, the white casket, the quick funeral service. Almost made it seem as that was what she wanted. She never wanted much fuss made about her, and the entire service was like that. A few words said, and she was being prepared to be buried. Maybe that comes from the family. So what's the point of this blog? Oh, and come to think of it, should these blogs have any purpose? I was thinking of poem lines while I sat during the viewing. I didn't write any down, unfortunately.
Also got me started thinking about taboos, specifically, taking photographs of funerals.

I admit, work is boring.

Music plays

And i think random thoughts like, who are common people. I am going to start school. imu. I wait sometimes for nothing. I sit there and write and don't think. I am hidden partially by this computer. I am not common people, i hope. I am bad. I am good. Sitting down all day is not a way of life, it is a way of gaining 25 lbs in a year. 11:43p.m is the time you weren't here, but I was, writing. It is the time I started feeling sleepy, but also just a big hungry.

Stitches
sex is a word i shouldn't put on here for you to read. Film history is a form of literature, and overdue books get people in trouble. If you give in, I win. My random thoughts don't mean anything to you.

Fin

Dream

I dreamt about love last night. It was about trying to find a specific movie theatre in what seemed to be the French Quarter. Love left me there, as I searched through phone books, guests, in search of this name. Three girls talked about how old they were and I yelled at them "I'm 29". The casino employees looked at me suspiciously when I walked into the casino with some shorts and a dress shirt. A coach was yelling at me and I yelled back. One guy probably had too much to drink, good thing his friends where there. Love never came back.

Funny idea poem

-hablando con una amiga y esto es lo que salio

we spy
wild dancing
pigoens
nuzzling necks
next to each
plump feathery
figure
for a quicky
of creation

Bored

A long time since my last post, and this isn't for a particular reason. I'll just say I am at work, feeling unproductive, although I have accomplished a bit and it is early (11:39am), so I do have the rest of the day. A friend had a major accident, perhaps the first accident I have known to involve people I actually know and talk to. I truly hope they recover.
On another note, love is on vacation. Seems like that a lot though, especially when my semester is busy. But love also motivates. So, thanks to those encouraging/strong words, I am intent on continuing with the Raving Press, and also writing some more of my own. I also have it in my mind to do a little chap book. Nothing to serious. Maybe a "24 Hours" chapbook, lol, if I can stay up that long. That would be like...well, 24 hours...7 am to 7 am...I don't know if I have stayed up that long, but if I do it just at home, that's a fairly boring and pointless project. but it sounds like fun. I have to do different things, I'm tired of all this structure. For movie enthusiast, please watch
1. El Topo (which became the basis for my cinema film class research paper)
2. Lost Highway (re watched and still don't get)
3. Underworld Evolution (OK, so it's a bad movie, fine, but watch it on blu-ray, sweet!)

I'm stuck on 90's alternative *gotradio.com*...i'm old.

I'm going to be productive today.

Feliz Cumpleaños a Mi

Tomorrow is my birthday. I think most years I haven't wanted anything, but this year I want to be showered by birthday wishes. I feel the need for people to know that I am one year older, but I am ashamed at the idea that I want people to know. I momentarily imagine myself showered by gifts, but I just want some acknowledgement. I want this birthday to mark the beginning of a new year. If I can accomplish more than this year, then it will be successful. I want to be acknowledged for my accomplishments. Is it wrong to be selfish? To feed oneself?
I want tomorrow to be a contradiction: uneventful and mine.

I think i want:
the gift i haven't t found for anyone
a midnight call
memories reborn
forgiveness
love
confession

I want to
free your mind

I need to
rest my feet

I think
...this year

I know
I'm not immune

Remember

I have assignments due next week and in an odd way I am ahead because I have thought about them all day and I think I have begun/finished most of them but in others, I can't remember what I was supposed to do. I have to turn in an analysis...but for what? I have to present on Deleuze, which article? I think I'm weirding out because of all the time I have had today...and being at home all day bites. Well, I wasn't home all day, but now I can't seem to step away from the computer. You're evil. And I want to write, but not here, I'm tired of the screen, inside, but I don't want to go somewhere alone. But i don't want to go with anyone. It's confusing, but by tonight I would watch the movie for the research paper, and hope the movie is acceptable, and maybe Monday I'll work on The Wizard of Oz. I even wonder why the papers matter so much if the final paper and exams are 40% each. It's time I calculate grades.

Anyways, i think that's it. No poem, no ideas, just writing.

Published

I did it! I had a work accepted for publication in the online version of The Rio Grande Review. Okay, so it's not in print, but this is a start. lol The piece is Boom Town which is one of the poems I have liked since the beginning. I submitted other pieces, but those still need work. I am just happy to have received encouragement to submit poems. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't accomplish a lot of other things. So let's call this the start! I gladly celebrated with two sandwiches and Pringles for dinner. It tasted sooo good.

Lately, I feel like I have been on repetition, saying the same words repeatedly. i don't want to be shut out, unwelcomed.

sueño
que mi cuerpo
se levanta
de tus manos
y allí voy
entre tus dedos
escapando
del calor
a la voz
de tu musica
me encuentro
voltiado
entre tus palabras
y historias
entros los
sueños
de tu amor

Reality

This is perhaps as real as this blog will get.
My brother came down from Houston and I am happy to have my family here. I saw almost everybody in the house when I got home. It felt like home, it felt like life death granted me a wish.
And we drank and we ate, we talked...always about the past. There is no bother of the future because it will always change. The past, it is the same. We have the same ideas of the past, it doesn't matter if we agree or disagree.
My brother is like my father figure.
I show my fatigue more, for show. I do not care. I am awake and i write for the intoxication. I write to the truth that says:


believe
that life is some
complex being
some monster
in the mind
that brings out ideas
and lives to eat
what is missing
that love monster
is going out
to the pasture
to the filed
the orange field
and going into the
deep
of dreams
and little snakes
they dance
and they make
the gestures necessary
to say I am
alive for this
alive for some sort of feeling
and rising
of emotions
this is my life in this instant
and I feel
alive

Almost Friday

means that i have to complete two applications by some time during the day, advise approximately nine students, and then volunteer at JDC.

But on the bright side, I resolved my struggle with car insurance. I bet everybody knows how insurance is not only a safety requirement, but also a measure of independence. It's true, my society says. I could have become truly independent and held insurance on my own name...for the price of about $847 dollars. Or, I could be the son that still has insurance under his mom, because that will run about $247.
Independence is too expensive, and I'd rather deal with the cost of mom insurance. I'll take the passionate reminders because for companies I'm not old or safe enough to be trusted with cheap insurance.

There was something else to write, but it must have been a lie.

I am thinking----------------------


erase my words
from context
and develop
this sense of
love code switch
trade my amor
for love
cuz amor is
passion
and love is
commitment

cuz u deserve
some type
of forever
para siempre
l-a-o-m-v-o-e-r

Miss

I miss right now. I feel words are interrupted by thought, and I only want to feel. Tomorrow I read in public, and I don't care. I will read and leave, and forget that my words are 78 of two thousand for the day. I am looking for poems, and want to be ridiculous. I want to repeat this:


The neighbors have a cook out
and they feed the dog, bones
they give them the sensation
of being human
the way that we
walk towards each
other we walk
and we dance
we follow the chairs
the empty seats
and we begin to see
how we can go through stages
the nymph
becomes the dragonfly
and we share a cup
this is just another love poem
a lie of where we once were
a drink
there was almost an incident
when the small pick up truck
was a gust of dirt and force
there was almost a time I fell
out of love
when I worked my bones
into words
filling my mouth
like lips.

Tired

I am officially tired. I haven't been this involved in life, ever, I think. I'm enjoying it though, but I used to get my thoughts tied up because I was thinking to fast, now ideas develop in my mind, travel through nerves, and finally, reach my tounge in bits and pieces.
So I'll probably take a day off soon. What will I do that day? Work. But, i'm not complaining, just trying to take everything in. These are moments I want to enjoy, but sometimes they are confined to schedules and deadlines.
And my dreams keep growing. I dream of business and the community. I'm not afraid of failure, but of beginnings. I fear wanting too much, as I do now. It feels the past six years were spent at a standstill, but can i start running now? Can I make everything that speeds next to me into the best moments? I want to learn again, I want to travel, get lost in small towns and literally be nobody. I realize the time I spent traveling before was knowledge even though I didn't search for specifics, and picked up whatever i could find, but now I know what I want. How much do I want it? Can I change/outgrow myself or is this who I will finally be?

Here is my "I just wrote this" poem for today's blog.



dichos
que dicen amor
from two medium eggs
a can of refried beans
and a fruit
concotion:
orange slices
pecan bits
jicama.
this almuerzo
sin nombre
ni apellido
is mama's
gift

Pray

I was asked to pray, but I don't believe in god. I think that belief can be respected, but its not. Should I compare myself to the native in line for conversion? I did pray, thanking for food and my company, but I didn't mention god, so maybe that saved me.

Spur of the moment poem-

Pray
to you
i think
light falls
and prays
for dusk
and back
rubs
for a sign
of hope
of salvation
in me
hope
hope
hope
love lives
inside religion
that a prayer
can save me
from falling down
to my own mistakes
that being
catholic
was another mistake
that curanderas
don't really exist
and herberias
sell rosemary
y hojas de limon
pray
that i can order
meat like a man
drink beer
like a man
and pray
i love
like i did
believed
i could
save or
be saved.

Mentiras

I think I lie because I speak through emotion. I know the real, but it changes when spice is added. I see a hair with a slight tip of grey, but i call it un pelito perdido entre los otros, 28 years of missing, loving, hurting and then hurting, loving, and missing. It's a final fall leaf about to be plucked. One million songs through my head and 500+ beers in the night...memories...deja vu...daydreams...But it's not that...it is a single hair with a tip of grey.

Here's something new

I blame
icicles
falling
freeing
heart ideas
mind feelings

Inspired

On Sunday morning, after my walk/jog with equis, I took some photos. It has been a while and even though I was recently denouncing photography as a hobby, I had another change of heart. I have been unable to keep up with the rest of life's demands, and I figured if I was going to waste time, I would enjoy it. There should be some words about how something so small can be beautiful, but I prefer commenting at the malice of an orange flower. Then and now, the flower reminds of space and how we occupy space. In reality, this flower measures about 0.635 centimeters. That is 0.635 cm of a total 51,007,200,000,000 cm of the earth's surface area. It's a start.

Secrets

What am I supposed to do with secrets? The ones that other people tell me, but want others to know. I wish i could write a book of secrets and trade them with other people. We will have the secrets of people we don't know and everybody will be pleased that their secret is known...without any harm.
I went to a poetry reading and finally realized that I should revise my poems every so often. I think we are going to be dead poets soon and everywhere the world is living and we're still holding on to our words. We should write and forget. Then write more.
Here is another poem I have to revise.

Eating at Los Comales
reminded me of my dad
a place where
waitresses in tight pants
and shirts
serve tacos estilo mexicano
behind the ritmo of talking
I ate alone
and thought i might
see my father in front
with another son
better maybe worse
we would just stare
at each others brown face
and i'd keep eating
and then i would remember
I like walking at the pulga
like my mom does
i thought
but it was really my father

Write?

As an assignment I have to write a poem about someone else, but I find a way to put "I" in the poem. How selfish of me.

I was checking a site, and finally got to see some changes.
Alphadilettante
I had to use a dictionary to read the articles, but that's okay. I like the pictures.

I am staring out the window at a dead tree and I am thinking of the rain about to creep in and wind,Flatliners and listenting to The Editors "An End has a Start"

*random*

Passion

Where is the passion in life today? If I had passion, I would go to work, have lunch for more than an hour with friends and perhaps, if I wanted to speed up my passion, have a drink. But we don't have passion, for life or our culture. We ignore quality of life and assume productivity is a worthwhile achievement. Maybe it is forgotten that we once knew nothing more than walking and letting life keep up with our pace.

New

Time again to refresh this page with some insight about myself. I once again realized that I should have started my work earlier. but oh, well, I will catch up I suppose. I'm facing some new challenges, specifically, about to lead my own group of students at a juvenile detention center for a writing workshop. So, what do I have to be nervous about. I'm not worried about the surrouding, or their reaction, but my ability to gain their interest. How do I make writing interesting and be genuine, yet reserved and cautios. I'm afraid of messing up. For a while there I thought my classes were going great, and actually a bit slow. Now that I have homework and reading piling up, I become lazy in everything else. Last semester it lasted for a while. I have to find a way to get out of it. All this seems pretty typical/boring/confessional writing. It's a tease. How about saying I want to get wasted and quit work? That's still pretty common.

Here is a new poem, just in case

I am
silver blue
lining
on the edge of
creationism
thinking that i am myth
of individual
based on feeling
compromised
by the sun
and one dog chain
my mother overheard
two gueros saying
“been to progreso?”
“it’s like not a damn Mexican there knows how to finish concrete”
and I stood there
watching our ROTC march by
their arms clapping
pride and eyes
of Missouri
loving every minute of
cheerleaders, citrus
festival cold.

Duh

I just realized this is a perfect opportunity to market my flickr web site. I love that place. It has a better sense of photography than the more common websites. Since the user more or less has to pay, they use the site to their full advantage, and a lot of great photographs are on there. In my case, I have not reached that sense of art, so I have family photos and such, but still: Photos From My Life

Serious

I wonder about being too serious and letting go. It is always before, the always easier time. But more about the time i place into school and volunteering (at least recently). I wonder how I manage, because I'm not good dealing with time. I could let a day pass without a single thought, just looking out at the wind picking on the trees. I lost my thought about time. I figure I'm still somewhat hidden from wanting to be responsible, hoping that small things will be taken care of. Likewise, I see it as not caring or feeling the need to have that responsibility. Life works itself toward complexity.

Random

On some days I am bored to the point where I will yahoo "I hate Mexicans". So I don't hate Mexicans (brown pride!)but wonder how the interent is coping with the idea. Usually I will find someobodies blog or KKK'ish site. Nothing out of the ordinary. In this occasion i used a different search method and keywords and found this site:
You Don't Speak for Me
The group is comprised of some Hispanics, Latinos, etc. so that was noteworthy. That's actually it, everything else seemed to be propoganda as in the other sites. Anyways, enjoy the site and if I get links to other sites, more fun for me.

Dizzy

Last nights drinking and talking seemed like a good idea, and it was, even though I broke the pattern of writing once a day.

New

I am just waiting for classes to begin. I started writing in a journal, but poetry. I think this may help, or just show me the countless crap that I write. It is an everyday experience and I'll place some of that here. I find that I am writing about the past, but I think that is not enough. For writers, looking into the future is best. Experimenting with the words, and sounds when they are spoken, through the mind of the reader. How is a poem read silently? Since it's still early, I'm just writing w/o purpose. This is where I am. I realized I can do more with this blog that just right, so forgive me for the boring nature.