Update

I want to see if there are any fountains in Mercedes. I imagine myself
secretly going through the city looking for the perfect one. Next to it
I can find some measure of peace, turbulent waters shifting besides me.
I can close my eyes and find myself living in a house on the hill. I can
drink from it, and think, there is no secret.

Work is Not Fun

But trying to prepare for a poetry reading is. Can we make it a performance of it all, with music, art, and spoken word? I think so, but will other's support us, for free? lol, if we can support them for free as well I imagine. Still thinking about pocho *I just received a copy in the mail, rescanned the book. For a while, I had forgotten the majority of the novel. It came back to me. I was disappointed. Pocho has changed and I will be thinking about it for the next year. Thinking life things. Brother going to college, is this a good life, what does the past mean. Life questions. Saw Slumdog Millionaire, which I won't bother reviewing because you just have to go see it. It's that simple. Go see it. I also watched Max Payne...and then I ask why I hate myself so much that I watch crap. Literally a waste of two hours *or however long the movie was*
This is fairly random useless information for everyone. The truth is I want to go away for a bit. I'm starting to accept San Antonio, only because of the art. But as I talk to people I bring up New Orleans constantly...so i want to go there. Because of the strangers, sometimes the drink, the animals, casino, hostel, again the strangers, and the distance. It's good not to be anyone.
i want to be away, but imu.

New Year

Another kind of new year, with U.S inaugurating Barack Obama. I dreamt of text messages. That was a first. Already I am forgetting their messages, but they are dear. I am working as a student assistant (although not yet finished with the paperwork)and i'm getting used to asking an employer what they need all the time. lol. I will write more, but I didn't want to leave this for so long. I am expecting to write more. So far this semester has been more manageable, but then again it is early. I don't see depth in any of my thoughts (recent). I have to prepare a short presentation for the Gallery class tomorrow. random thoughts. I want to be part of a forum/workshop.

*back later with more*

Wait, now I thought of something. Looking for a place for a poetry reading that can accommodate art and music.

i can't title this

I don't want to go one to long about this, but every so often I hear border Chicanos/Mexican-Americans talking about "ay, estos mexicanos, they don't know how to drive" and etc. It is excused by most because it's a feeling that they are talking about their own kind, although from a different place...but what about this review i read while searching for a hotel in South Padre Island?

"online travel was questioned, requiring us to provide proof of confirm. We found out that this facility is also a Mexican owned, Mexican run time share. That might explain the unfamiliarity with online travel."

The hotel in question is the Peninsula Island Resort, and it was visited by someone/family from Neenah, WI.

I don't even know what to say...i'm stunned. I didn't really believe this logic was still possible as public reasoning. I'm sure all type of private thoughts exist, but they want this to be heard.

Pocho

Before I continue reading on this subject I want to express my own ideas on this word "pocho". I have often heard "pocho" as a derogatory remark. If you go to Mexico and don't know Spanish well, you are pocho. If you live in the U.S and do not know Spanish well, you are pocho. It seems to hinder on the ability to speak Spanish as the Mexicano, not someone from Spain. If you speak Castellano, then you could be something else, but not a pocho.
So, what is pocho to me? Gueros don't speak Spanish, but they are not expected to like Chicanos. A Mexican-American can be a pocho...he is the ancestor of the pocho, first created when blood was mixed. Some will say between European and Indigenous people, but I believer there is more to it. To be pocho, you must have the blood of both in the land of neither. Los Estados Unidos makes me pocho, the border makes me pocho.
Unfortunately, pocho is knowing too much and to little of either. If a Mexican-American knew nothing of heritage, at least the name coco would fit. Pero un pocho? Ese esta fregado de todos lados.

I realized I have more to say when another blogger mentioned the word lost. Pocho is usually related with lost, but what about found? Can a pocho be more than a person of half cultures. Can the pocho create their own, and be respected? I think my search is for that culture. I don't cringe as much when I overhear the word pocho, and I think I am being talked about. I believe there is more positive to being pocho. I am realizing I must not be ashamed of this duality, and perhaps trinity. La frontera es pocha, no? Tal vez otras culturas han aceptado lo que nosotros odiamos.

From El Sol Studios

Some of my purchases at San Antonio



"untitled" by Veronica Ceci



"Gettin Medieval" by Veronica Ceci


Postcards

Return

Back from a short vacation to San Antonio, which I have never felt at home in, but a bit better this time around. Was able to enjoy the Riverwalk during the day and at night, without being at the clubs. Most worthwhile part was finding the arts district, in particular El Sol Studios where I bought two prints by Veronica Ceci which i will place up later. Back home and at work, already feeling how hectic school/work will be.

Late Night Poetry

I'm starting to think that poetry events held at night do not work because they are left until the end of the day, when a person is tired and drained. Why don't we have midday poetry readings? Answer: because most people are working and have "other" things to do. So we modl poetry into a late night rendezvous to fit our schedules.
Not every day is made for poetry...some days are made for being home alone. I read some other blogs and I think to myself, who cares what my own blog is about. It's about nothing in particular, and honestly, sometimes I don't feel to express my politics or profound events. Can it still be a good blog?
Today I was scheduled to read at a gathering which took forever to start: I hate disorganization. Scheduled starting time 7p.m....which means...start at 7p.m. Not wait 30 minutes after I leave at 9:30p.m. I hated leaving without fulfilling my commitment but I hate waiting worse.
tonight i want to get lost
i want a complete sense of enlightenment...
i mentioned once I would love to know everything,
but asked why, if there is no labor of discovery,
but sometimes i want the labor of production
of creating
changing, breaking,
twisting into truth
wedges of emotion
from your life
from mine
lost lives
breaking, twisting
emotion
sounds
and beats of
little feet
pattering
on the cement floor
while i sleep

This is not real

For the past weeks, I have been searching for a good movie...something I could be proud of...and I saw a few Chicano movies, some decent and others not even worth it...and then feeling a bit ill yesterday I find one movie I have been avoiding, only because I did not want to be disappointed by it.
But I gave in to El Espinazo del diablo (2001)by Guillermo del Toro. I can't be poetic, but this movie kept me quiet and in captivity. I stopped thinking, even though some film critics say that should not be purpose of film. And I feel pride because he is a Mexican director, but also a bit of shame because Chicanos either don't have the same publicity or do not have that stature/vision. I don't care what the subject matter is...not every Chicano film has to be about the barrio, migrating, or culture themed. Eventually, a Chicano film will be just about life, and in the background the comfort of home will exist.
I see that in the films of del Toro...El Espinazo del diablo secondary role is a horror film, but primarily involves revenge, war, and being unwanted. I see the images of Christ, Catholicism, traditions, toys, foods, sentiment displayed in the film, quietly...sometimes being quiet has its purpose.

Who is this?

From my previous post, the tagging I found in the university bathroom. I see a question mark, peace symbol, arrow, an "A", and spiral...

war is continuous?

Lucid

First things first, congratulations to my lil brother Noe for being accepted into UTSA...it feels as if I'm the one attending college. lol

On something else, I'm experiencing a reoccurring dream. The last reoccurring dream was a few years ago and before as a child. The childhood dreams were trippy, a combination of transforming chess board and empty space: it's complicated. Yesterday I dreamt a pair of tigers(as I remember). In previous dreams they mauled people after escaping from the zoo. And there they were in my dreams, still on the loose, occasionally mauling people. I was never the victim, but I could see.
Last night a friend walked a few yards in front of me, and I spied a tiger in the bushes. I could have warned him, but I didn't. Moments later I'm able to warn him as the tiger attacks, and he is injured but escapes. I am attacked next, but after seeing so many deaths, I escape unharmed. The tigers follow us and we jump into a lake where they won't reach us. The rest of the dream is spent trying to reach safety. I don't know if we do, but I know i'm not dead.

What are reoccurring dreams?

Returning

I went back to work: meeting and students. Most interesting part of today. I went to the bathroom at work and found some graffiti high above one of the toilets. Didn't have my camera, so no picture, but maybe tomorrow. Point is, what was their point? Past semester (and few days ago) I read on graffiti artist. Driving around downtown McAllen, there are some good attempts...but what was the point of this one. It's difficult to describe, but it started off with words, then became a drawing in mid stroke. If you would say it was gang related, that wouldn't make sense because which other gang is supposed to see it? Self-promotion is more likely, even then, who is supposed to see it? It reminds me of all the other places bathroom graffiti is pervasive. At the Falfurrias gasoline station/truck stop and at the Texas Thrift Store. Maybe today's graffiti was meant to change people's comfort zone, but it seems so common to me. I'm more curious about who and why. That was the most interesting of today...scribbles on the bathroom stall.

Back to Work

Two weeks go by fast and now tomorrow i return to work. I hope all is well, and we will start with a meeting first thing Monday morning. The weekend was mostly rest. A new semester...I'm already tired. Time to enjoy my time a bit more if possible. Went to the pulga today and then went to eat in Downtown McAllen at El Posito. Good huevos rancheros. While there i noticed numerous bars opening up shop, and I'm afraid they will force out the yerberias and second hand stores on 17th street. For money, somebody will find a way. imu

Friday

I finished reading Sandra Cisneros book The House on Mango street. While reading it, I had the feeling of deja-vu.It does seem like poetry but it speaks of her through others. I would call poetry more direct.It always takes me a long time to read a book because after each story I take time to think. Maybe not with certain novels, like the Stephen King books I would read when I was younger. But now, stories like "Hair" make me go back to the naturally curly locks of my dad, and those of my sister, and when my hair and patillas grow long, they also begin to curl.

Spoiler "Beautiful Thing"

I was sitting at home about two hours ago and I couldn't make up my mind what to do. I didn't want to go to the movies, and didn't feel like spending an hour to rent one. I wasn't sure if I wanted an action, horror, drama, (almost never) comedy. After a couple of grapes, some water, and apple slices I remembered about my forgotten films. These are a couple of gay films I bought from the McAllen pulga about 3-4 months ago. I don't really know why I bought them in the first place. They were cheap, 15 movies for $15, and I thinking about it I hadn't really seen a gay film. I haven't and decline to view Brokeback Mountain (2005). I didn't want to see a big budget film, so I turned to Beautiful Thing (1996).


In short the film involves two London teenagers, one jock the other not, and their blossoming attraction. Meanwhile, they deal with a 'Mamma' Cass type neighbor, dysfunctional families and acceptance of their sexuality. I wont mention more plot, because point is, I liked the film. I get frustrated of watching sex as the basis of plot, and the characters here were treated honestly. I read a review by Roger Ebert, who mentioned characters portrayed unrealistically, and I somewhat agree. Again, its impossible for any love to run smoothly, so I'm accepting of blemishes. I don't expect a film to divulge all aspects of life, or at least it wasn't the intent of this film. After viewing, I'll probably keep this film...I mention so because the others in my collection may be more raunchy. I didn't want raunchy: give me emotion, interaction from more than two characters. Make me believe that love isn't a fairy tale.

In some ways the film was too short to explore each character. There was the storyline of Leah Russell (Tameka Empson) and her infatuation with 'Mamma' Cass Elliot(and the films heavy Elliot/The Mammas and Pappas soundtrack), also Sandra Gangel(Linda Henry)as a single mother to one of the teenage boys.

Last words: a film worth watching if you're interested in a different love story.

Director:Hettie MacDonald
Writers:Jonathan Harvey (written by)
Jonathan Harvey (play)

HPNY

I am writing this using the new tablet. It takes getting used to, but gives the sensation of writing. I like it just because it is different. I wrote a poem, inspired by "The House on Mango Street" by Sandra Cisneros. I enjoy her words and realize poetry tells the same stories but are often not as connected in the sight of the reader.so we must tell all our story at once, making sure we explain years of hardship in ten lines. Even if we done suffer the words are judged the same.


I used to wash my car all the time
mijo playing on the dirt
the 80 Camaro looking new (er)
and now
I have a new car
and my wife
who didn't know me then
says " why don't you ever wash your car "
and I think... because he is gone