To Do List

For some reason I have hesitated on my home "to do" list. It's not written but here are some which I can remember.

1. Fix Heat (this one I'm regretting right now as the weather is reaching the 50's)
2. Fix toilet from running
3. Fix washer
4. Fix water which somehow goes from kitchen sink to utility room
5. Repair roof

This has been my list for about the past year or so. Seems simple enough. I think I would be be better with the list if I knew how to fix any of these. Yes, I know, I'm being codo by not hiring someone to do this work for me. But in my younger years my dad never hired anyone. Maybe I feel I should be able to do the work myself, which takes forever. Sometimes I'm just lazy. I did finish one job: I was able to install some new lights.

I don't feel invested in the list. Right now I could be doing something towards the list and I'm watching The Benchwarmers which I'm starting to wonder how a movie about 3 adults playing against little league teams makes sense.

Por que no me siento vivo? Hace tres dias queria escribir algo como: 7 secretos en 7 dias solamente para decir algo que nunca puedo decir. Estoy feliz? Hay unos dias que si, pero en otros no. Aveces pienso que es depresion porque cambia como el vuelo de un cotorro. Creo que la lista le importa mas a mi pareja, pero no estoy seguro la manera que me afecta. Pero creo ya es suficiente sin hacer nada. En Enero comienzo con la lista pero esta vez llamandole a algien que sabe como reparar todas estas problemas. Y aver como la pareja reacciona. Si no es en manera feliz, pues no se.

Tal vez esta será mi primer secreto.

Social Networking

is crazy, so I avoided it as long as I could. But now I am on facebook. If you want my contact information, just place a comment on here.

I haven't been in the mood so much to write, but at one reading it was said we should aspire to write every day. Lately I have aspired to forget that I have a thesis to complete. Not that I won't complete it, but I think just taking time to forget about it and go back. I have looked over some of my older poems and I wanted to place one on here since I haven't done that in a while. The poem I have in mind might have been written while I was in Austin. Just busy with holiday things so far. This blog is wandering like I do through most of the day. Confused about the possibility of a Ph.D program. Am I good enough or do I really want to complete it. It just might be que estoy buscando algo que hacer. Pero la verdad es que quiero publicar y quiero un negocio. Que chistoso, que las cosas que quiero tambien les tengo mucho miedo. Aver, voy a escribir el poema pero no es el original.

Sangre
que tengo de mi padre,
la sangre que tal vez
es un poco de moreno
porque a mi padre le dicen chino
tu cabello que es medio circulos
sobre cada uno.
tengo sangre de machista
y infiel. la sangre
de mi tio clemente
y hijos que si no son de una
son de otra.
sangre que me vuelve loco
porque no me la puedo sacar,
ni con palabras de matrimonio,
ni pelo que me corto.
de cualquier manera las patillas
se me enchina
y los glóbulos de rojo
blanco, y verde
es una mezcla
de corajudo,
silencio, y
tranquilidad peligrosa

12 minutes

Until I can get out of work. And then I will be meeting w/ friend at Buffalo Wild Wings for some food, thought not wings, because it seems like such a little piece of meat. We will be watching Monday Night Football and me doing nothing more than relaxing before tomorrow, which I am taking off from work and hoping to productively use to cash my check and work on thesis. Yes, thesis which I avoided during the Thanksgiving break. Although by Sunday I think it backfrired because I spent most of the day in that type of mood where you just want a reason to argue. Damn, it's impossible for me to avoid that mood every once in a while. Part of it is my curiousity to see what disaster will happen or how well I can control my bad mood. It never works out. Por eso dicen que tengo tanto coraje. Pero no es coraje, es que me fastidio con las cosas que nunca hago. Ya se, es mi culpa.

So writing on blog helps a bit with being able to be random and not expecting a response [usually].

Here is a random dream from last night, one I haven't had in a while.

1. I dreamt that sometime in the middle of the semester I realize I had been missing a class [as in not attending]for most of the school semester. The rest of the dream deals with me avoiding a complete F or wondering what should do to fix the situation. What does dream mean? I'll look it up later but I hope it doesn't have anything to do anything with inadequacy. lol

2. Second dream was a mixture of school and past. I was in a lecture hall in a Math course, once again one I had not attended in a while, and when I show up I see on one side of the lecture hall my younger brother seating with three old acquaintaces/neighborhood classmates of mine. I never really talked to them, it was just a matter of them living in the same neighborhood. Anyways, one of the hood people starts telling me how they killed my dog. [some background information, they were talking about an actual dog of mine which died when he must have twisted his head within chair. It was strange, sad]. When hood guy was telling me the details I yelled something like "Fuck you" or along there and went to the other side of the lecture hall. At first there were some students where I sat, but slowly they started to head out until I was sitting on that side by myself. End dream.
Okay, so that must mean something, right? lol Who knows. For now, maybe ever, it's just a dream.

It's Official

I will not be graduating this December after all. I'm sad, definitely, but the extra time will help me prepare and do a better job. It was a tough decision because I didn't want to feel as if I failed, but I wasn't putting much effort into it lately. I'm trying to figure out why, and part of it was being tired from work. I didn't have enough drive to make myself work after getting home. I think it was a number of reasons, but the point is I lost focus. So now I will be graduation Spring 10. Some paperwork to change, but nothing big. I'm not saddened, I just wish I would have done a better job.

anyways, that's the news for today. I'll use it as a positive, maybe attend a conference, submit more poems, random activities.

Thank you Employee Tuition program. Thanks to you I won't have to pay for the course.

Santa, Tato, y Sprocket

In that order as they happened. I was able to buy a small sculpture by UTPA student Jose Garcia (nopalitos@juno.com) of Santa. This is not "ho,ho,ho" Santa. This is some perverse Santa who must like to get his jollies with smashed women. He reminds me so much of myself. I'm joking! Here is a photo, and I bought this piece because it is Christmas time but just love the way he is having a great laugh. Ay Santa, I can only imagine what you were up to.


After my workday I spoke with poeta Tato Laviera for an interview hopefully published in UTPA's Gallery magazine. I was nervous but decided to be myself, or who I would like to be and who I am when I am not shy. Este Tato knows how to make a conversation into mucho mas. Even before the official interview began he was giving me valuable information on some projects I was considering and extremely helpful with encouragement. The actual interview went well, and I tried to base my questions according to what he was saying. The questions I prepared were stale, and it wasn't easy anticipating his responses. It isn't like the times I interviewed coaches and answers could essentially be scripted.

Lastly, on this odd day Thursday, Sprocket (mini-Schnauzer) became ill around Noon or so. At this moment she has diarrhea and vomiting. I'm going to wait a day before I take her to vet. I took a cat once to the vet. I named his after the street I lived in, Kantunil. Awesome name. lol. I hope it's just a bug, but I have never been good with pets and their illness. Just hope all is well.

So that was Thursday. Today I'm going to a "sidewalk and starving artist SALE" in McAllen, although it's raining right now and don't know how hungry they are for funds. Hope there is something good around there. I'll post it if I find anything.

How to Stay Mexican

or pocho, or yes Mexicano Americano y todas esas palabras que usamos. I was taking a friend to the airport and we couldn't resist a picture of the señor riding in the truck bed getting some sleep. Classic. Anytime I meet someone from around the country I can't help asking about how it is on their side of the states. I wonder if we are different. If Mexicanos aqui son como los de alla. It's always a yes. This border is different because we have fajitas, and calles del taco. Aqui we aren't afraid to listen to our ranchera music en las fiestas y dar nuestros gritos. This is home to all of us. Estamos entre rancho y cuidad, no como El Paso or Los Angeles. Tal vez otros piensan que casi estamos muertos mientras hacemos lo que hacemos, y no nos importa! Como este señor, no le vale quien lo mire. Lo importante es el descanso.



Sometimes I think about moving, but I'm afraid I would miss it too much. I haven't even moved out of Alton. I have become so attached to it, I laugh at living in a subdivision, or "hidden valley" estates, donde los neighbors might say "They are cooking out again, I hate it when the smell takes over the house and just lingers." Me? I love that smell, hasta the way a mujer tiene olor de fajitas y mesquite.
I know I won't have to worry as much about my house being broken into, pendejos kicking my dog if it gets loose, pero por qué no me voy?

Por qué am I asking others about Mexicanos que seem far away? Reynosa no es Ciudad Juarez, ni es Tijuana. Entonces por qué espero que sean igualitos de este lado? I just want to hear it, that we are different here. I do not want to find otra valle. Quiero que esta sea la ultima.

New Puppy

I was called a dad because of a new puppy I got. It's true, it has a similar feeling of being a father. I know, i know, it's completely different. But don't you get a similar type of joy caring for someone else? Watching as their mind develops and playing together, vet visits, and living together every day? A puppy is a substitute child. So this pug (Suki)I received from a co-worker. She has been doing pretty well although she did piss on one of the couch pillows. If you visit my house, beware. The mini-schnauzer (Sprocket) has adjusted well, and I think she enjoys having someone who can keep up with her instead of me who runs around for about 5 minutes and "yah, that's it, I'm sitting down."





-----------------------------------------------------------------
Still working on thesis and hoping to get it done soon.

Can't think of any words for poems right now, but maybe later.

Oh yeah, how can I forget to mention the Lucha Corpi reading. It went really well. As I read my poems I felt uncomfortable mostly because I wanted to change words in the middle of reading. Lucha had a good reading, and though she didn't read much, she did read from her newest novel and her poetry book. Hearing her talk on Chicano history was unexpected based on previous readers. The research with the psychic and involved in her writing gave me better insight to her stories. Overall a good night, although by the end I just wanted to go home.

Updated

So I never talked about the last two days of the Austin City Limits Festival. It's more awesome now thinking about it than living through it only because day 2 was all rain and day 3 was all mud. I'm better at observing than participating so I stayed out of the rain, under a tarp, and I tried not to do full body dives into the mud. The music was awesome though. My favorite were The Decemberist and the B-52s. A lot of other excellent musicians, but those stood out.

-----------------------------------------------------------

On the poetry side, I am almost complete with thesis, meaning I'm not close to feeling proud of it, but I have to turn it in within the month.

I still haven't had the courage to ask my mom where she grew up. She has told me before but I keep forgetting. I think I feel guilty because
1. I keep forgetting
2. I will be using it for my thesis
3. Everyday is another day I don't ask

but I will ask. Sometimes I'm to hesitant for the things I should do.I haven't submitted anything lately, so I will have to do that as well. I need to attend more poetry readings, and one is coming up on Nov. 2nd for the dia de los muertos.

I think if I had children I would be more inspired to participate in dia de los muertos, or maybe if i knew muertos that I knew better. I know muertos.
1. Abuela Orosco
2. Tio Fernando

But I didn't connect with them as much. They were already older in my memories. That's what I say. But eventually I lose someone I have known for a lifetime and maybe then I will celebrate dia de los muertos. It will be an honor and a sign that I cannot let go.

ACL-Day One

Just some basic descriptions of my day:

1. Arrived in Austin at 12:20ish[Friday]or so
2. Drove around for about an hour and then parked where I had initially thought about parking. Total cost for parking $20.
3. Walked for like what seemed another 1/2 hour
4. Hard core tired, and finished the water I was going to drink during the festival.

Then it's like just like the good kind of chaos in there. Lots of stages and tons and tons of people. I was able to get fairly close to watch Avett Brothers and Phoenix [I touched the lead singer's elbow! but when I repeat the story I'll say shoulder]. Then went to see Bassnectar and sit down to write the poem I was inspired to write while watching Avett Brothers. I was watching Ghostland Observatory, and realized they can't make me fall into a dancing long grey haired man-young woman with a beautiful smile type of love. So I walked over to where John Legend was playing "Ordinary People" and realized I could in love to this.
People can manage to get upset with all this music and people around them: stupid.
Then I watched Them Crooked Vultures who put on a good show and the grand finale was Yeah Yeah Yeahs, which were awesome with their singing and having fun.

Then it was another walk [but this time it felt shorter] to the car, getting to hotel, checking in, and looking for food. By midnight was settled with 3 "Deluxe" Jack-in-the-Box burgers and a 6-pack of Modelos. I got through 3 of each.

In the end, I didn't care about those $20 for parking but maybe if I am going to spend that much I should go earlier. I plan to today [then again its already 10am].

So far I am ready for next year. The weather sounds interesting today. Maybe some rain.

Vacation

On friday. I am going to Austin for the Austin City Limits Festival. I am really excited. It has been a while since I have gone to Austin, and there are a couple of places that I want to visit. Actually, I would like to just lounge around and go to I Love Video, Half Price Books, and the arcade. The festival will take up most of the day, but I will find some time to do other things. Although I am excited, I am also extremely nervous. Not sure why although the first thought is parking. I guess I am afraid of there being no parking in downtown and I won't be able to make the show for some reason. I have measured the distance from where I am almost certain there will be parking to Zilker Park and its about 3.5 miles. I can walk that for sure [I think I can]. But there is so much talk about parking close that I start to think it is to far. Why something so small is concerning me, I'm not sure. I guess it's my persona to always be prepared. this time around I don't know what to expect. I am nervous. I'll manage once i am there. I think i need to relax, meaning, I need to stop thinking or attempting to have a rigid schedule.

Wasn't it before that i would say "what happens, happens"? Maybe so much time in the office has made me different. don't know for sure. this is going to be interesting. I hope to write some poems. like i said, i don't know what to expect, and it's been a while since that has happened. I have for a while played it safe going to san antonio, austin, houston, new orleans, places that i know visiting the same spots. it's time i took a chance, looked for a new experience.

I am working 1/2 a day tomorrow. No reason to work the full day. Much more to do at home. goodnight.

Alton Bus Crash

20 years ago I was 10. I was also in what should be 5th grade. I haven't talked much about today, 20 years ago, because I didn't believe it affected me much. But now i'm thinking twice because of sadness i feel around this time or when i think of the Alton Bus Crash. I usually manage to avoid the subject but i remember being in alton elementary and hearing about a bus crash. I remember crying, as awkward that may be because I didn't know what happened to my sisters. My sisters were safe, but the next couple of days I could feel the anger coming from Alton, and my dad, anger at children's lives taken away and no one to really blame. My brother, already in Houston at that time, calling to check what had happened. My sisters lost friends. I think even my friend lost a brother. I have constantly separated myself from death, but this is the closest I have come to being affected by it. Every year the memories are brought up. When the city started creating a park in the same area i had mixed feelings. Was this sacrilege to create a place of fun where so many died? My brother and nephews played paintball at the park a few weeks ago and I didn't even wonder about how he felt being there. To many the accident is a memorial on 5 mile and bryan, but when i live so close, the accident exist every day.

I avoid the newspaper articles and tv reports because it feels like exploitation. The media creates an image of Alton as a dump, but reveal their sensitivity by showing photos of martyr children and interviewing survivors. I can't take their hypocrisy and bad journalism. Maybe I am offended because they have stolen a private moment, as much as attention as it has received.

I called in sick to work today because i just didn't feel like being there. On sunday i was reading the first part of an Alton Bus story and I just felt sad. Every year for the past 20, and what have I done? It feels like nothing, or better yet, I ignore what happened.

It's a lot of emotions today, as it has been in the past, except today I'm taking the time to think about it more. It has been selfish of me, not really considering what others have thought of today. My sisters went on the next bus route, rather than the earlier one, which fell into the caliche pit. They lost a friend, but I haven't asked what they think years later. Sometimes I think we want to forget and leave that memory behind. Too many lives and what ifs. I don't know why I decided to actually think about it more, and how next year will go. But for some reason for all those persons who lived through today, I just want them to know that I haven't forgotten.

Creativity

I know the following isn't for everyone, but I wanted some outside creativity besides what i usually see around here. Sometimes I just need help with a title and I can do the rest myself. The poem is a start.

Summary: Found a photo online while doing "pocho" research.Title derived from picture title.
Site address: http://www.flickr.com/photos/89124696@N00/




post colonial malinches

say goodbye [y chinga tu madre]
to fathers and their fajasos.
se van, holding hatred
to their blood,
fall into traps and fall
into psychological partners.
they dig themselves
feet first into caliche,
modern hearts adorning
their pale awkwardness.

Reading!

Should mention this. Stop by if you are in town. I still haven't figured out if i'm the blood, piss, or asphalt, but i would consider myself asphalt, siempre buscando un camino nuevo.

Sick

Don't know from what, but it happened sometime while going in and out of the air conditioning at UTSA. I helped Noe move some things into his dorm, and wished him luck [and crossed my fingers].
But this post is about listening to the Wild 104 [the valleys ultimate Hip Hop and R&B station]where they had a guest interpreting dreams. Talk about coincidence, they chose to interpret a dream where a man is helping someone escape from a tiger/lion but as a result are also chased by a feline [but never caught]. I had this same dream some time ago, and posted it on here, not sure of date. Anyways, the dream was interpreted as feline=female, and the chasing is interpreted as anxiety caused possibly by criticism from the female.So, the male tries to escape the females criticism....ah, so funny.

It got me thinking about lines for a poem.

Dial-a-
curandera
on the radio
for remedies
on your spouse
some powder
on his pillow
for eternal,
unbreakable
love, a humming
bird wrapped
in red string.

dial on
the radio
because her
blue house
chips
are now ashes
smothered

Cloudy Skies

In my office. It's just me, i figure. At least it's encouraging the writing a bit more. I thought more about -ismos and I created a prototype font. Nothing fancy, just checking out which look appropriate. I think i can give it a shot. Even if i fail, it will be worth it. So the first step is to create a small mission statement and explanation of what -ismos represents. Although, I don't expect to represent simply one idea, perhaps it will be made up of numerous beliefs from the area. After that I can start creating some fliers and passing them around town and also the outskirts. I'll try the viral concept also: a small half-sheet should be fine. I can do this during work, no chance of rain today.

Oh, I have to write a poem/memoir for an upcoming contest: "An account of the personal experiences of an author."

Some people say they can remember
age 4 and their first birthday party.
I think my first memories are teen
years, the rest is just some fuzzy
picture my mother keeps. Me one
year old, an early birthday cake,
and then i began my teen years.
I remember one time going to the zoo,
my sister running away from home,
walking the canals, shooting at
beer bottles. the police:
domestic disturbance, snakes
on a twig in a dried lake,
a pregnancy scare, maybe twice.
It wasn't all bad, but that's what
I remember the most.

[sounds like a start...didn't want it to be all gloomy, so put in some good memories. I need to make them stand out more]

Frustration

With everything again. I'm starting to think it's not the people around me. lol Sometimes I expect too much, then when I get more than I expect, I'm left unhappy because it didn't come soon enough. Hopefully this comes all from being unable to write more when I actually want to. Part of that might be changing jobs. Even though advising college students is fun, meaning dealing with students that overachieve, are lazy, don't care, and have daydreams as goals, I want more time to write. Actually, I want more time to publish others. The MFA will do me some good in getting at least a bit of credibility, but if I can help others by creating a small magazine/journal, I will be happier. That's my daydream. I have been thinking about something similar to one I was part of during my Juvenile detention Volunteering days. Except this one is geared to kids BEFORE they get there. lol. Same concept though...don't glorify violence, gangs, drugs, etc. Probably shouldn't be just aimed at youngsters though. But i'm barely in my daydreaming stage. Want to suggest a title? Some possibilities: Mexcla (I just found a Mezcla magazine from UNC,and Unofficial. So those are my two choices so far. I'm working on it, but I'm sure i don't want a name like Mi Barrio, or Colonia-ismos...although I kinda like the sound of the "-ismos". Did some online research [everything is online, right? lol] and found one entry for Ismo magazine, which "Last ISMO update was 15 Aug 1999". Sounds good to me. I like -ismos. According to Wikcionario, this is one meaning of -ismo

Sufijo formativo de sustantivos abstractos que denota algún tipo de doctrina, tendencia, teoría o sistema
Ejemplos: budismo, cubismo, cantonalismo, comunismo, socialismo, capitalismo

I'm liking this. Thanks for going through this thought process with me.

Different Subject:

Just fell onto this article. Here's a snip.

"Timberlake and Rhys surveyed more than 2,100 Ohioans about their attitudes toward four groups: Europeans, Asians, Middle Easterners and Latinos, specifically asking them about each group's intelligence, income levels, self-sufficiency, ability to assimilate, and proclivity toward violence. The results were often surprising - and often not. (Read about a new Asian-American stereotype in TIME'S 1987 cover story.)


Uniformly, Asians finished first in the wealth, intelligence and self-sufficiency categories, followed by Europeans and Middle Easterners, with Latinos finishing last. Asians fell a notch, to second, in willingness to assimilate, with Europeans taking the top spot. When it came to violence, the order was reversed: Latinos on top, then Middle Easterners, then Europeans and Asians.


"In some respects, this was exactly what we expected," says Timberlake. The stereotype of wealthy, studious Asians and ready-to-fit-in Europeans has been fixed in the public mind for years now, and endures even in homogenous communities in which the need for real assimilation ended long ago."

original link: http://news.yahoo.com/s/time/20090812/hl_time/08599191576800

Que Gachos! [will not insert a joke about being violent in order to reverse their views]

Last Note

Aren't I an oxy-
stereotype,
un childless
chicano.

it's not just
the marriage clock
counting the months

soy yo
contando las ramas
del huisache

ensombrando
el carro, sobrinos,
ese gato vagabundo

que una noche
escuche con su gata
haciendo me burla

Bad Moods

Bad way to start the morning. But that's how it started. Angry for no reason, looking for an argument. By lunch time it passed and a few minutes ago it got so much better. I was advising a student who is working with Mujeres Unidas [It is the Mission of Women Together to provide shelter and programs for women, men and children who are victims of domestic violence and sexual assault].Excellent program, but the point is that she booked an entertainer [announced, but tickets yet to be sold] for a benefit concert. The entertainer: Saul Williams. Saul Williams is awesome. "You Tube" him. Great music and poetry. Here is the flier. I have seen him perform before and I am excited. Bad days can end well. Remember.

Love for Sale

Is it right or wrong?

I'm watching Cowboy del Amor. Here is the premise: a matchmaker unites American men with Mexican women. I know it's wrong. But there's something about it that makes sense. Is it that different than meeting someone at a bar or an online site? Perhaps I'm not looking at the big picture. A man pays to meet a Mexican woman. Is it different than a man paying to meet an American women. In some ways. I know some people will say it is taking advantage of a poor area, especially considering Cuidad Juarez and its crime against women. Then others will say it is of the women's own free will. Is there a right here? Hidden intentions, secrets? It's smart business for sure. People have been as foolish in Las Vegas, but maybe it seems the money makes it wrong: the profit.

I haven't been writing as much as I should be. I'm kinda lounging around letting myself get bored and distracted. I will get my act straight. Soon.

Dos Mujeres, Cuantos Caminos?

Another one of my found pictures. A Polaroid picked up while walking Sprocket on Linares street. I have a bad habit of picking up random objects. I like this picture because my best guess is sisters. But maybe that's a bad guess. La chica standing up reminds me of a lot of girls around here with the dark lipstick, the pose un poco coqueta, hoop earrings, long red nails. She would fit well en la colonia. La sentada gives off a similar vibe, but toned down. Still the hoop earrings, no nail polish, lighter lipstick, and the smile. The optimism. She gives herself a chance.

Santa is Santa, even in the colonia.

Doesn't remind me of my sisters much. now that is. but maybe if i go back to some older pictures they have a similar pose. una la coqueta, la otra sonriando. That's the way the rest of their lives go. En la misma manera que la foto.

wow

It's a boring day at work, with only a few students advised and I haven't felt like writing in blog. Lacking that motivation to say much about myself. So I was looking through other blogs on blogspot and it's funny to see some of the subjects. I love writing but i'm sure other people don't find it as awesome. So i'm looking through and some people are completely dedicated to knitting, polishing their nails, and publishing stories of LDS (which i figured to be Latter Day Saints). Half of these are in languages i don't know, and naturally if i see something that has a few Spanish words but can't read the rest, I call it Portuguese. and by my estimates, lots of Portuguese bloggers.
at the same time it makes me feel lost, but comfortable. I like seclusion sometime for the comfort. anyways, i thought these were interesting/great/strange.

http://sealdekker.blogspot.com/ : These are some hardcore photography parents.

http://williamtritter.blogspot.com/ : Talk about the opposite of inactive.

http://martapinasolamente.blogspot.com/ : about some art

It slipped my mind...

Father's Day. Another blogger wished a father's day to all the eligible persons. Everybody must have a father right? I don't know the history behind these national celebrations but sometimes it feels like too much. I'll read the history on it later, but as far as the present goes, how does a inadequate father feel on that day? Does he feel as if he has lost more than he expected to gain. Perhaps he still feels the burden of being an absent father. Do you have a son? somewhere, but not here.

I have a friend in a same-sex relationship with a son. I was thinking about her situation that day. I jumped to Antonio's Card, a children's book by Rigoberto Gonzalez whose story involves the difficulty in explaining/producing a mother's day card for same-sex parents. Good story.

On a more calmado note,
I watched Return to Sleepaway Camp last night. I loved the original Sleepaway Camp because I remember watching it with my brother and sister. This wasn't the same, but it keeps the memory alive. That's enough, no reason to get extra nostalgic today.

Home Sweet Home

Another trip to San Antonio, which was productive. Visited Six Flags and I went on three rides although i am scared of heights, and that's about as much as my body could take. I realize people like the rides because of the adrenaline rush, but give me a different type of adrenaline. I would rather swim out on the beach, go through a haunted house, even a Hurricane! A lot of other things besides fast moving heights. The trip also included a visit to the children's museum, which was good, but not great. Also, San Antonio Missions baseball game which was fun, Half Price bookstore is always good to me, and lots and lots of eating out.
Perhaps the biggest event was receiving my comments from the pre-draft thesis. A lot of "potential" remarks which I hate because it feels to me like "not quite good". Good isn't always easy, I realize that. So I will have to put more work into it, and hope it gets better. Oh, also was rejected by Bordersenses, which means I have to go back and review what I submitted. Anyways, have to go do some work-work, will write more later.

but i just remembered something i wanted to think more about. Nearby the Motel 6 i stayed at, which was actually quite nice inside, older Mexicanos would stand along the street waiting to be picked up for jobs. When a work-looking truck passed by they would raise and waive their hands. It was surprising to see because the hotel was only yards away from Market Square which is a lush area of tourist. Separating both was I-10. It's surprising how cities have developed a new set of tracks, the highways sometimes sheltering those closest to the center. I didn't feel nervous as I passed by them, because they didn't emit a desire to harm, but i imagine many people feel threatened.

I didn't' see any of them get picked up, but as the day passed their numbers would get smaller. But each morning they were there again looking for work.

Otra Vez en San Antonio

My second time in SA in the past two weeks, the previous to drop off Noe for FR Orientation at UTSA. He says it was boring, which I'll take as it went well and they gave him a lot of academic information.

This past weekend I went w/ fellow MFA poet R.G to visit the Alameda exhibit, Phantom Sightings: Art after the Chicano Movement.

Must say I enjoyed the exhibit, especially the photography of Carlee Fernandez. There was another artist, Ken Gonzalez-Day who displayed postcards of lynchings, which had been scanned and worked on to eliminate the bodies from the postcards. A bit eerie because I could sense a tension from viewing the postcard, but there wasn't a physical entity to represent that tension.

Here is a sample:



I was inspired by some of the artwork, although most of it I would term as experimental, or perhaps "not-traditional".

I'm trying to think of something that goes with this title I came up with while viewing.


Deconstructed Chicano


es partes de
deep south texas and the 6 month long hurricane season. Some cousins arrested for attempted murder or drug possession. a pregnant sister. a young pregnant sister. and my mother. my father. divorced and some of the embarrassment that came with it. abuelos y abuelas que lla no viven. Y que cuando vivian no los entendia. It's late night discussions ala mid-day tent revivals. It's your voice. Slipping down the cement canal, algae like oil. Yesterday I saw kids shooting at beer bottles, and I was unsure if I should scold them for breaking glass, or remember the way my brother and I shot at bottles we threw into the canal. It's a couple of memories that may be exaggerated for effect. Adding an extra drop of rain to the river, because we have to complete it somehow. a father-son relationship with my brother. a son i lost because he was never mine. complicated relationships. brown. sometimes lighter. non-traditional is equivalent to the odd sheep.


*something to work on.

Lost or Found

I have a fascination with lost items: most of all pictures. I don't remember where i found this photo, but my first thought is how this family looks normal, right? Literally all smiles. There isn't much to do with these, just a curiosity of where it came from, usually found in some book I buy at the segunda. I wonder if i have lost some of my own and where they end up. I'm writing but I'm not getting to the point.

Circling, circling, attempting to hit bulls eye.

Yes

I am still alive. I didn't realize it has been close to a month. I figured maybe a two and 1/2 weeks had passed...guess not. I have finished the semester, passed, and one semester closer to finishing my degree. Currently working on Thesis, no classes in the summer, meaning tons of reading and writing.

So, what have I done lately? *nothing* Advising students full-time: seriously.

I'll say more tomorrow. Be a more personal. Professional. Contemplative.

adios.

30

is the new 20 I hope. lol. I took the day off from work, so I read a bit of Barrio Boy by Ernesto Galarza in the morning, then played some w/ Sprocket. Now it's a bit after 12, and I am working on some poems due for class portfolio, Halloween in the background, and Sprocket sleeping next to me.

No poem yet for this occasion.

They call it puppy love

and I think it's true.

Her name is Sprocket. Don't ask
my why that's her name, but it's
partly because it sounded (or is)
German, and it goes with her
"heritage" as a mini-schnauzer.

I bought her on Saturday at
the pulga, and I just hope nothing
comes out wrong. Papers say
she was born on March 3rd.

*She is available for play dates*








on a ending note: i'm tired. i want the semester to be over.
my brother came down to visit from Houston and it
was difficult juggling family and school work. What
keeps me going is thinking "summer"

1. fun
2. no classes
3. road trip
4. time for thesis
5. oh yeah, and work.

*by the way, i don't know why i put numbered bullets on the above list and they come out like flowers...not my intent, just fyi. lol

Maybe

it's late. but i took a 2 hour nap, which means i'm older now...lol, and that i likely won't be falling asleep until 3am. My brother is on his way from Houston so I am waiting to see if he will stop by and stay at my house. It was unexpected, i just found out from him today.

Este poema es para ti.

I remembered today

about the SBS building

ese minuto entre

the COAS

preocupada

de las pulgadas

between our hands

haveces unos besos
sin razon

sometimes vergüenza
entre los students

tus palabras
entre mi lengua

tu coraje
uno de muchos años

this minute
between lunch

this segundo
este año
esos dias

everything right now
todo-todo-todo

los pensamientos cargan
la misma soledad

el mismo querer

ekphrasis

sandia

I ate
blood red
squares,
setting off
diluted juice
paths above
my veins.

green
streaks
and red
scars
give action
to watermelon
still life.

Commentary more than poetry...

This is my poem/response to the news article i mentioned in previous post, titled "US citizens locked up as illegal immigrants"
I think towards the end I mix some words up (or at least my understanding of them), but as always, there is work to be done

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The answer to stabilizing the American Economy
is to deport all the illegal immigrants. We begin
with some work raids. Because only illegal immigrants
run and everybody who stays should have their
papers with them. Then we can stop them for
suspicious reasons and ask them about their citizenship.

Operation Wetback intended to gather up illegal residents
and return them to Mexico.

Operation Return To Sender intends to gather up illegal residents
and return them to Mexico.

Inevitably some mistakes will be made.
Mistakes that will cost you a couple days
or years, but with proper proof can be
corrected. These are regretful mistakes
because they were not intended
the feelings of hostility,
being handcuffed to a chair
sense that you don’t belong here
that you must speak proficient English
that you are an American citizen.

Yesterday was Easter

and I wanted to write, but I was too tired. A lot of good family time. Ended the night watching a movie w/ my lil sis and her kids. Then some cleaning afterward. While I was reading the e-news that night I came across an article regarding American citizens who are confused for illegal citizens and deported. I wrote a poem, which is on the laptop, but will be posting when I get home. Here is the article for starters: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090413/ap_on_re_us/mistaken_for_illegal_i

Just one picture from Easter 2009. Hope it went well and it was joyful. It can be tiring to have so much family around.

ACL

Like the concert festival, not the ligament. I bought my tickets a few days ago. It's going to take place Oct. 2-4. If you want to know the details, you can follow this site: http://www.aclfestival.com/


I'm excited, yes. About six months to get there, but I'm hoping I have a good time. It's going to be in Austin so I will even get to visit my soon to be Freshman brother at UTSA. I didn't even realize it until i was texting him today. That makes me even more excited, that I can stop by and say hello, see how things are, make sure he is studying. lol I see a lot of freshman students, and their first semester is overwhelming. I try to think of "good" reasons why, but usually its that they don't anticipate the level of work required to be successful at the University level. But I don't want to go into the subject of retention and first semesters.


I don't know the lineup yet for ACL, although there are rumors flying around. Just saw that the opening bands will be listed April 28th: excited. I was supposed to go last year, but money was tight. So I didn't do much all year as far as traveling...and I love traveling. It's not escaping. Escaping almost means not wanting to come back. I love to come back. I love to live here in the Rio Grande Valley. Traveling is about listening to people's stories, and catching a city change. New Orleans was like that, although still sad to see people struggling.


I used to write poems a lot while traveling because I was young and couldn't drive, so the option was going on bus or someone else driving. I don't get to write while traveling anymore, only at my destination. I do miss that. Would I go on the bus again? I have thought about it, but I dislike the lack of mobility. Maybe to try it again, but I have given up on trying to regain the experience of a first time. I didn't walk Bourbon street at night too much because the drinking and debauchery wasn't enticing.


I have never experienced ACL. I have experienced Austin, and unfortunately one of my characteristics is to be content with repetition and dwell in the known. This will be a change, and I will try to not visit the same places I always do in Austin. Essentially, I will attempt to give up control.

Language

I'm excited about it. The presentation coming up for class was a good choice. The unknown usually is. I'm not going to bother explaining language poetry here, but some of the ideas I can't help but laugh at (aka with). They are ideas I have been wanting to include in my own projects, before actually reading them in Ron Silliman's "In the American Tree". They include:

a one-shot publication: I love the idea of it. It's pretty much a chapbook, but when combined with a periodic publication it has the opportunity to serve different subjects, and cleaning the slate, going into different ideas without to much regard of the previous issue. So, it's not like a newspaper which will continue with a story for a few issues, and it's probably not even like a magazine and its editors whom constantly push their ideas/beliefs through a publication.

list: for the presentation I wanted to make a long, senseless list of poets associated w/ language poetry, and i laughed when on the next page I found exactly that. It's a simple coincidence, but I like it. It's almost like validation, knowing that some ideas have already been used effectively.

But then this gets me thinking. What else can we (poets and writers) do to further the medium? Where do we go from here, or where do I go from here with my "Chicano" poetry? I suppose that's one challenge of writing my thesis. To not recreate poems by other Chicano's. But I always want to do more. I don't want my poems to sound the same, use the same words, I need for them to be distinct. The ideas of Language poetry may help with this: go beyond reference.

And chances are, two months from now I will find a Chicano poet inspired by the Language poets. And I'll have to laugh.

Like sugar

words sweeten
a desire
to write

entonces

échame otra copa
de tu azúcar

para decir
la verdad

[nomas]

Last Night

I woke up to an unknown lover. I don't remember if it was from drunkenness or desire, but I was there. In bed. In my old home, the old master bedroom. A couple walks in to say hello. The man familiar, the woman naked, not familiar. They say hello, and another man walks into the doorway. They chit-chat, leave. I feel guilt for my betrayal. I also feel relief. The next scene I am at a couch watching television. The unknown lover to my left, a male friend, J, to the right. My friend asks "who is she". "I'd rather not talk about it". He tells me "you're using your loud voice, you have to whisper". I ignore him, and turn to the unknown lover. Still guilt, but more comfort. The unknown lover, as I try to distance myself, invites comfort. Another male friend, B, walks in. My right eye catches two friends in a passionate kiss. Lips feeding off each other, hands grasping. They weren't lovers before today. But they share a passionate kiss, and B tells J, on his knees, then in a prayer position: laying flat on the floor, face up, palms up. B says "I will be good to you, I need you". I know he would. B is completely dedicated to his lovers, and J likes to take advantage of them. A perfect couple: submissive and dominant. Last scene. The unknown lover is elsewhere. I'm sitting with my mate, she's reading the paper, speaking with someone also reading. They talk about betrayal and forgiveness in metaphors. My mate tells the other man, with slow deliberate words, "do you think frog will forgive the scorpion?" I leave quickly to some cafe upstairs. I know what this dream is about. I gave up a bastard son for my mate. I cry in my dream, sitting there, mr. carro keeping me company and ordering crepes. I just sit there crying, wondering what it will take for me to forgive.

[thank you for reading this non-sense]
[i was thinking prose poem-too cryptic:pointless]

Six Days

I didn't realize it. I guess that's when I got back to the valley. Let's see. So what has happened since then. Children birthday parties always make me happy, and tired. I saw some trendy young couples who give off the image of "cool" parents. They probably take their kids to social events, have meet and greet daycare events. I want to look like a cool parent, but I can't. I think if I have kids I will revert (or turn) to a disheveled me. Maybe when we go to the museum I will look neat, and trips to the zoo. But i will dress appropriately. For an outdoor birthday party I will wear shorts and a t-shirt. Function over Appearance.
If.

I finished reading Hunger of Memory. Okay, so the last chapter was the best. Otherwise, the author was basing his ideas/perceptions/beliefs on his own experience. It's not uncommon. Thirty years ago the book was controversial; today it is dated. This author, not for this book, has been nominated for a Pulitzer. crazy.

ay, why do i dislike many of the books i have read recently?

Answer

to the most frequently asked question after a vacation, "Was it fun?"
"I don't know"

Good Memories:

-----Watching the Rockets beat the Hornets

-----Staying up late to read and write

-----Finding art at the French Market

-----the inspiration

Somewhat overshadowing those moments

-----eventually taking a streetcar to get around, so I won't be asked for money

-----realizing the city has not finished decaying

-----hating tourism even more

-----leaving without a strong sense of 'nolins identity

The answer isn't simple this time, but I think a better question is "Was the trip worthwhile"
I can say yes to that.

I was able to write about 10 rough draft poems. These are two.

Border one is a concrete wall
Border two is the Falfurrias checkpoint
Border three are the people

If you have reached this far
do you know who you are (yourself)?

-------------------------------------------

My first border is a wall
plastando la tierra, separating
you from me, me from them

The second is a border
patrol station in Falfurrias
where every trip we answer
questions as if we are
coming from extra
terrestrial land
Are you a U.S citizen?
Where are you going?
Is this your car?
yes sir,
Alton (Mission) [Rio Grande Valley],
yes sir
I do not want to be deported
like you did that stranger
years ago
yesterday
don’t pull me over
like you do
my brother

My third border
in the restaurant
is you looking
past me

Almost to Bed

It's a bit after midnight- 12:20. I had some weird experience. Went to a store to buy some food and beer, about 9pm or so. Once I got my sandwich and Modelo's, I was walking back to the hostel and some guy comes up to me saying "I'm not gonna ask you for money, but can you help me buy something to eat". I didn't really mind, I mean at least he wasn't asking for feria. So we walked to a nearby BK and it was closed. I said "sorry, I tried" but he insisted and we went to a Mc'd's. I bought him something cheap, and he thanked me. Walking some other guy (I assume also homeless) walks towards me and also asks for help. Man, I was starving and I just wanted to get back to eat and drink. I had walked about 4-5 miles earlier that day. I said something like "I'm sorry, but I can't" and walked across the street. And this guy, out of nowhere, starts cussing at me. I have to admit, it's a scared-nervous feeling I had, but I ignored him even after he was across the street cursing for a bit. I can't make everyone happy.


I'm reading Hunger of Memory: The Education of Richard Rodriguez. How do I express my disappointment in his experience. Not necessarily his views because I can't expect them to be the same, but the way he recollects his memories. It seems dry, analytical. But i'm just starting out, and still have much to go.

quick poem:
If you speak to me in Spanish, why
do I care for you more. Why do
your words mean more. Because of the possibilities,
because of shared experiences affirming
there is something bonding us. Am I
foolish to love your spanish, to read
those text yet translated. do I
lover your language whether it is scholarly,
or colloquial. Does it matter if you
are from Nicaragua, always speaking with
an accent. Does it matter that traditions
don't have to die.

Morning

means waking up at 8 or so and staying in bed till 9. By 11 I should have figured out what I am doing tonight. Will definitely try some jazz today. Wanted to go to a museum, but I think I have already gone to enough museums previously in San Antonio. Posting up a few pictures so far from my trip. Trying to figure out what to do next

Safe and Sound

In New Orleans. It's like being home, sitting outside, pearl jam playing, a tv on a comedy show, the rain, sitting under some covered benches. Allright, so it's nothing like home, but it gives off the same comfort. After about a 2 hour delay due to lots of rain and automobile accidents, I made it here in seven hours from Houston. Way too long, but at least I am here. And don't think I am going to spend all my time on the computer, although a six-pack is waiting for me somewhere. Today I have to do some work. I'll post up some pictures soon, but yesterday was already productive. Luckily my brother was at home so I was able to spend some time with him and family, then at night I worked on some revision and new poems. I have some new poems in mind today. Dealing with my initial experience looking for something to eat. I passed a place called "Lookers" which was completely empty. I ended up a 1/2 mile later at some restaurant, and when I walked in the waiters and some of the patrons were watching what I believe to be the Louisiana Derby. As soon as I noticed that I took a look at the clientele and left. lol So here I go back thinking where the hell I was going to eat. I was starving. Pues, no choice but to go to "Lookers Bar & Grill" And you know what, it was totally Mexicano/Latino. On the television "Lente Loco" was playing, there was some spanish music in the background, the waitresses were mexicanas or from honduras...que importa. Even the food was Latin. It was too good to be true. I ordered some chuletas and two Budweises...perfect. I'll make sure to go back there again.
There has to be a poem there somewhere.

Friday th 13th

The weather is gloomy, the type making me want to stay indoors. But today I'm headed to Houston, and on Saturday to New Orleans. The weather in that area also looks gloomy. I won't mind. I found a blog with pictures from New Orleans: jenniferlieb.blogspot.com. I plan on taking some reading material and writing, but things I'm willing to shrug off in case I lose.
Hopefully I will have pictures and blog each day. Hopefully I have a poem each day. If not, I should consider this trip a loss. ta

Bad Writing, Good Intent

I'm sorry, I had to get this out of me. I will keep working at it.



being a non-believer and Chicano

means attending service in case of
emergency weddings, quinceñeras
and baptisms.
It means watching everyone cross
themselves in the name of

..........the father
holy......and.......spirit
..............son

and holding back
my hands
nature
my sister’s wishes,
mom’s.

It means curanderos,
their power derived from dios,
do not exist.

It means promesas,
in the name of god,
are meaningless.

for a non-believer
la Virgin de Guadalupe
will never appear

palm sunday
ash wednesday
good friday

to be godless
almost means
not being Chicano

Black Hat Poems

written by Jose Montalvo. Not bad, some really good lines:
Todos muy monos
luciendo
holy ashes
en la frente

So, thesis wise, what am do I get out of this book. Consistency. He had many type of poems in here about his military experience, barrio, and activism. I think perhaps the poems were written in different periods, and represent styles he has gone through. I do like how his poems are more "Texas" than those I have read from outside poets. I shouldn't have a problem writing poems like these. The usual love, abuelita, pulga poems. Some mixture of spanish, but no works completely in spanish. I want a spanish poem in mine. Must have. The poems of his I didn't like felt to "easy" in that it read like dialogue, including words that didn't create a lasting effect. But most of all I have to be careful to not recreate his poetry (as well with others). Do I want to limit myself to pulga poems and all these "Mex-Am/Chicano" themes. How many times do we have to hear about a high school dropout? I don't want to move away from these subjects, but I'm afraid I won't be able to create a piece which separates itself from predecessors.


Time to read another poetry book. Have some I found in the library. Hopefully I am not just reading the weak authors and basing all my assumptions on failures. It's a learning process. I'm going to submit to bordersense, and hopefully that goes well. Although I think I am running out of publishable poems. That's a bad thing to say, I need 40+ for thesis. lol Anyways, I'm ready to head out to New Orleans. I don't know what to expect since it has been about 4 or 5 years, but mostly because of what I cannot assume will be there because of Hurricane Katrina. I will get some writing done over there. I will try to experience much and unexpected.

Finished the Book

Diary: A Novel, by Chuck Palahniuk. Finished and happy because I won't have to read it anymore. It wasn't terrible and luckily it only lasted 260 pages. But it reminds me of a Stephen King and M. Night Shyamalan cross. Not in gruesomeness, but the way it takes an ordinary event/occurrence, and tries to add a twist. But the twist aren't enough or are obvious and so I stayed reading and reading until I got to the good part. And like with Shyamalan, there's always this character or clue that pops up at the last minute...I don't get that. I know it was a limited omniscient point of view but still. Can you have a character throughout the novel and then all of a sudden say, "you know what, this was your husband's lover". Seriously? You have interaction with your husband's lover and there is not sense of animosity from the lover. Maybe it was the point of view that I didn't like, and the cheesy letter in the back saying...."dear author, i want you to listen to my story and write about it...and that story...is the book you just read." Sounds complicated the way I said it, but it isn't.


My real fear isn't liking the book, but telling the rest of the club that I didnt like it. I think they will regret having me in the club because I have been critical of most of the books. I expect to hear "then you write one". I expect to be ridiculed on my choice when i make it known. So that you know, it is When I was Puerto Rican by Esmeralda Santiago. I don't think I will regret my choice. I read the prologue where the author talks about a guava. That's it, a guava, the texture of having it in her hand, the taste of the guava on her tongue, and the memories the guava triggers. A page and a half on that and it was beautiful. I can relate to this. I can't relate to being part of a large social class....wait, I'm Mex-Am...I can't relate to a large wealthy social class. But I know what it means to pick a guava from my backyard and realizing it is bitter and tough and then learning to wait for them to be ripe, and picking the ripe ones from the floor. I know how it feels not to have that guava tree, and even planting a guava tree in my new backyard won't be the same. That's what I got from a page and a half!


What did I get from 260 pages about a painter who is a sacrifice based on tradition, ala "The Lottery". I got this...












I'm moving onto a new book, Black Hat Poems by Jose Montalvo. I ran across the book at the Half Price Bookstore in San Antonio. I'll let you know how it goes.

Actually

It's been getting busy at work. Students are arriving for advisement of the Summer I, II, and Fall semesters. The best students always get here early. Later in the semester the students unsure about their grades seek advisement. Sometimes it is too little to late; unfortunately. Besides work I am reading Chuck Palahniuk's "Diary: A Novel" for the monthly Book Club. This is the guy who wrote "Fight Club" also famously known as the Brad Pitt film. I'm halfway through and you can tell there is going to be some surprise in the end ala "Fight Club". I just hope it's not lame, like it was all a dream, or this woman has supernatural powers transferred through her paintings.
Talking about "transferring" I have been thinking about the word "transference," which I first encountered in another Book Club novel, "Lying on the Couch". It's summed up as projecting feelings and ideals onto another person. I think it happens a lot. I think in one way it is happening with my brother preparing for Freshman year in college. I'm losing sight of his graduation. I'm skipping over that and already imagining him signing up for a dorm and classes. I would call that making him grow up too fast. I hate it, because the next I have thought about it clearly and in my own way I try to apologize and explain myself to him, by text. I think he understands after my explanation, but I don't want to miss out in his growing up. I missed out on my lil sister growing up, and even now I may feel a bit guilty because I should have helped her more in finishing her college education. Every year that passes it feels that it may be getting to late. Guilt is strong.
When I mention to most people that I am going to New Orleans, and then they realize I am going alone, I also feel some guilt. But I want to go alone to be able to write. Sometimes the guilt wears off fast, today it's going slower. Otherwise, I am excited about New Orleans. I will be staying at India hostel, very nice and basic accommodations, and I am prepared to visit some jazz clubs, art scenes, and museums. But I don't want to overdo the cerebral so I will also have a couple of drinks, possibly museum, and aquarium. So far that is all I have figured out. Maybe a swamp tour and a few coins at the casino.
I don't want to over think it.

Friday Night

have become boring. Maybe not boring: relaxing. Can I relax and do work at the same time? So far it hasn't worked. I still have time during the weekend but at the moment I just want to sit down and flip through the channels. But there's nothing good, and I turn to the Internet to watch random movies.
It feels to slow today. Slow day at work, slow time here. I thought Fridays were meant to be better...not spectacular, just better. So anything before these lines are like the first couple of lines of a poem...usually meaningless.
But watching over some old clips on Wrestling...I loved watching Andre the Giant, Hulk, Randy Savage, and the Ultimate Warrior. Simpler times? Naive also. Memories aren't always the truth either, and history continues to discover new angles. I try not to be too nostalgic in my poems. I believe most people don't...so there is always the good and bad.
Read a blog, person appeared unsatisfied with their job before. I don't think I have become dissatisfied, just bored with the unproductive time. Will be getting busy soon.


*waiting is boring*

Awakening in San Antonio

Just returned from my trip to SA. It was fun, mostly walking the "arts" area. I don't know much about art but I was moved by a watermelon painting, which I will post up a bit later. The artist also produced "Generations", this great painting of a "cholo" and his private school dressed son, standing in front a wall painting of la virgen de guadalupe. I summed up the painting with "awesome". I wanted it. Unfortunately the cost was $1,170. But I was willing to pay that much for the inspiration it brought me, and the realization it gave me on the time and effort artist place into their work. Buying it would have been a bad fiscal decision. I will wait, but I know I will regret it even more if it is sold. It happens all the time with me. I wait, and wait, and wait and I miss out on the perfect camera, book, vacation, etc. The question is, should I look at it as an investment, and if I do, what am I investing in? Oh, by the way, the watermelon painting was by the same artist (I did not know this until I asked about the "Generations" painting).




*Unfortunately, after looking at some of her other works, they aren't up to par to my expectations. After viewing her second painting in the "generation' series, I don't feel right about buying the first in the series.

The store owner told me about prints they had, but I want the painting. I don't understand why it moved me so much, perhaps because of the inspiration it shows. The way it depicts a specific location in San Antonio, but I imagine it to be anywhere. Anyways, let's see what happens.
This store owner gave me some good conversation. He talked a bit about the poet Raul Salinas, his own experience with the Chicano movement, etc. He even told me about Rick Casas, an artist from Donna, Tx (RGV) who sold his work at the art store. This is probably the most at home I have felt in San Antonio, but I would have enjoyed this moment so much more if it happened in the RGV.


Is it that I am not looking hard enough here. Where is Rick Casas hidden in the valley? Where is everybody hiding?

Loteria Familiar

el prieto
   se va al norte

la Yvonne
   tiene el pelo chino
   como papa

la Vero
   ojos que desesparecen
   con su sonria

el flaco
   con su carabina
   y las huracas

la quieta
   le corta el cabello
   al payasito

el bebe
   sigue creciendo
   hasta cuando se valla.

No le pares hablando a la familia.
Quien tiene estos dos?
A quien le falta el prieto?
Agregamos a la ninis?
Vamos a quitar ese.
Cada año unos cambios
de cuadros para la
loteria familiar.

San Antonio Museums

Went on a mini-trip this weekend to check out some museums in San Antonio. Good walking and some worthy paintings. Was inspired to write a family poem, not necessarily meant for publication, but good to express non-professional words. Following are some of the more memorable sights. Also saw The Wrestler: hope it wins an award tonight.





Drinking Devil, ca. 1930
Diablo
Artist Unknown





Jose Clemente Orozco
Martirio de San Esteban I, 1943



Arnaldo Roche-Rabel
Tentaciones, 1992