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.