This is not a joke

This is not a joke. I am actually attempting to publish poetry which would be considered sub par [truth is, the more horrible the better]. Each of us have our moments of bad writing, and why should we be worried about legacies? let's appeal to the masses which is not interested in literature by giving them a good dose of stink.

Even this description stinks!

If you are bored, confused, want to get published, or oblivious to which level of writing you are at, then submit.

what's the worst that can happen....you get published?

Why...

does it smell like urine here?

first words to hear in the morning. A lot of responses come to mind such as we have a new puppy or there must be some urine around here.

I answered: must be the pad.

implied was: while I was home alone I didn't do anything, I let this house be pissed on by the dog, and working 8-8 three days isn't enough of me doing something.

Yes, that got me angry 3 hours ago. I just left.
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In artistic news, I have come up with another idea....you, the audience, says, "Another one?!?!"
*l* (from me). Yes, another one. These are the #s.
1. A chapbook
2. Title: "Que Pesta?" which translates to "What Stinks?"
3. A collection of bad poetry, whether written intentionally or pure bad, stinky talent.
4. Published and perhaps a poetry reading to commemorate

That's my idea. You may be asking yourself (or someone, like me), why this? I see it as a creative outlet, maybe the opportunity to publish what we never want to be seen by others. I think there are plenty of occasions where we hide our writing (as easily as we do with our thoughts and feelings) even though they may actually have literary value. Other times it's fun to be less serious. And this requires no talent at all. lol

I comment was relayed to me by a profe friend. She stated that a student wrote the following in her research paper after I presented to the class on the idea of being Pocho.

"He's a leader for many people who feel that they too are Pocho."

A student said that. You don't realize what this means to me. With all the trouble i am having being published a comment as such feels like a big compliment.

I can do this.

The Personal

has become to personal to post here. It's a mixture of uncertainty and somberness. If you want to know how I feel, listen to the following song, and then find the lyrics.

The Decemberist "Hazards of Love IV"

There was no reading yesterday, only watching TV after a day of advising 8-5, and then teaching 6-8. Today there will likely be reading. I will scan the cover of my current read. I will write a poem. I will purge this tristeza.

Movies & Unsettled

I wasn't sure of my expectations for this movie. I have enjoyed Roberto Rodriguez films, regardless of genre, but i haven't seen his last few collaborations with Quentin Tarantino.
Turns out I loved this movie. It was exactly what I needed to watch towards midnight. It reminded me a bit of the Mexican Narco films which depict violence, beautiful women, and over the top acting.
And I unashamed to say that I loved the secondary theme of immigration rights and Austin setting.
It felt as if Rodriguez was home and hadn't forgotten his roots, while attempting to blend in his current style. I think i might dl some Mexican movies although those I will probably have to buy at the pulga since I don't think they are that popular. *l*
Related to film and attempting to watch more movies is the idea that I am at a personal standstill. I go through this every so often. I feel I haven't accomplished much and I try a new venture which usually is only half fulfilled. At this point I am hoping to make a "fake" zine, but actually publish it...so it's not completely fake. I don't know if this has to do anything with my personal life, but I'm trying to create a positive and creative environment. The problem is that I don't find to many people whom I can be myself with. Or maybe the problem is that I am trying to be to much of myself while keeping it to solely a creative aspect would be the best option. I don't know (as always) and I will try new ideas and projects (as always), and like most other times i will find a waste of time to keep me preoccupied until I am a mess again.
I'm feeling a bit happier now *after advising some students and planning out a small project* but I have to keep this up. I need to take care of home chores as well. Perhaps that bogs me down quite a bit as well.
Today is my opportunity to be creative in class. Tonight I will watch some Death Note and hopefully finish it by the end of the week. No new writing of poetry as of now, but I am developing ideas. Tomorrow I will have a sample draft.

Some days

I pretend I am alone because it makes companionship easier.
I started reading Richard Rodriguez' third book, Brown: The Last Discovery, and he seems to have changed his stance on identity. I haven't read but a few pages but it seems as though his concept of Brown developed into a cause, originating from a sense of alienation. But I am still unconvinced at this point, mostly because he continously uses the term "Brown" as if we are a flat color. My response is "We are not all Brown" and should not be subjected to one color. We are from all shades and backgrounds. Do not paint us plain. Tenemos herman@s de diferente paises. But I am in the first few pages, and so this is an initial reaction. I will post a picture of the book and more thoughts soon.

Rough

two days I have had. Not on a large scale, just compared to what I am used to. For one reason or another I am not a great handyman, which puts me at a disadvantage when anything home like breaks down. I tried my best to fix them, but usually they are temporary fixes or make the whole situation worse. Such is the case with my central air and kitchen clog. It's gotten to the point where I am seeking professional help.
But that's not what this post is about, this post is about venting. It's about wanting more help at home and not finding it. It's believing I work hard and do a good job and not being believed in. It's about feeling alone.
So my frustrations haven't been about the central air or the drain, but more so not receiving the help.

On a poetry note, I read for one of my friends ENG course and I had a great time. It actually made me forget about all of the above. After moments like these I wish i could write/research all the time. But i have this need/fear to have a steady income. That and I tried looking for a job in teaching but with budget cuts, universities are not hiring. Anyways, I talked to the class about being Pocho and what it means to be a Border Pocho, so I think they enjoyed realizing that we are different here in deep south texas (not san antonio...further down...lol). I think the class was able to relate to me. that makes me happy. i had a good time. Thank you friend. You believe in me. 

Last Night

I got together with friends  at a poetry reading and with one started talking about poetry. We want to create a text-book; a poetry book made up of text poems. The idea of a text poem is not new as follows:

http://bygonebureau.com/2010/01/15/text-message-poetry/


http://books.guardian.co.uk/games/mobilepoems/0,9405,450649,00.html

But, how are we able to create something more precise and creative.
 
1. specific guidelines
2. incorporation of code switching
3. inclusion of text shorthand
 
Some ideas, but hopefully we create a small booklet for this project. Nothing to big, but we need ideas and means of production. It's time to get creative, although I'm still hoping my Summer I class makes.
 
I need to submit to a collection being produced. The deadline is June 15th. I need to submit real soon.
 
Just those thoughts on my mind right now. Maybe this will be considered a text poem by some phone company standards.
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we bought some
love last night
and in the morning
left outside in
humidity, love
turned into rotten
frowns and
unanswered calls