“You’re living at a time of extremism, a time of revolution, a time when there’s got to be a change. People in power have misused it, and now there has to be a change and a better world has to be built and the only way it’s going to be built is with extreme methods. And I for one will join in with anyone, I don’t care what color you are, as long as you want to change this miserable condition that exists on this earth. Thank you.” Bookmark and Share Bookmark and Share


birthday boy, follow the green lights

November 18, 2006: a birthday to remember. Simple in its implications, broad in its emotional content. I spent the day with my beau and mi abuela. We spoke of future plans, contention and our solutions. My grandmother isn't too happy about my choice in this particular woman. After her expression of distaste for mi novia, she has also accussed her of using voodoo via flan to allure me. Needless to say, I come from a very colorful family.

It used to sting but as time spends it means less to me than the day before. My actions in pursuing her, my woman, need to be driven by love, selflessness and a simple desire to be with her. The input from those around me can often pervert and distort that love, which shows me a great deal about where their hearts and minds are. If someone you love has given themselves to another person the peculiarities and particulars of that person shouldn't matter. The fact that I am in a mature, mostly, loving relationship doesn't matter to gma. I guess you can't please everybody birthday boy.

She and I checked our "Fur," the new Nicole Kidman flick, def a pleasure. I finally unDSed my China Lebron IVs, yet another pleasure. We ate at Mama's Food Shop in the Lowa, wonderful. Our cold, dry hands loosely held stick of tobacco as we walked on Houston. All in all, a solid birthday.
I'm moving out in a few days and my anticipation is mounting. Can't wait for Wednesday.


anonymity of the hoodie

I was on my way home tonight when I saw one of my mom's friends walking out of his front door. I was prepared to walk past whilst flinging a 'what's up' his way but this guy wanted to talk. Okay, deep sigh, 'dang it's late.' Small talk, banter, I say, "hey, where do you store your bike during the winter?" As the words were leaving my mouth I realized what I had asked him. He went off. The man started on this trip that ended like this, "if i catch you in my yard...you're dead."

It was then that I saw the fire in his eye and the unsteadiness of his gait. After an ancillary embrace I walked off into the night--amused.


the oddities of a man in search of truth

I spent the last hour walking around the campus I spent five of the most formative years of my life. I sit, overwhelmed by what met me: vivid recollections of the experiences that have shaped my present form. In my hand, a burning, whistling menthol cigarette and in my chest the resonance of a life past.

Preeminently was the memory of a past love. Our time together haunts me like nothing I've ever experienced. I recall times like our conversations at A.B.'s grave. As morbid as it sounds is as damp as my night was. Years ago we sat there, on stones that still remember our names, our conversations, our love. What strikes me most about her and our relationship is the present. The absence of her presence as dug a grave in my heart, only to be filled with dirt, flowers and a resting stone. HERE LIES US.

As young as we were, I am still convinced that I found true love there. She may not say the same, but inwardly, deep beneath the sea of insecurity and hurt, she believes it to. For that we have not let go. For that we will always love, over that tombstone.

On this night, I recalled the fear that passed through me like oxygen. Fear of expectation, fear of man, mostly fear of myself: the true self that still has yet to come forth. In the end I realise we weren't just kids, we were young men and women searching for meaning in a desolate world.

I remembered my car and all the memories that accompanied it. I realise it for the blessing it was and feel the weight of it no longer being present. I guess you could call this evening memory lane. That winding road is a lonely path that few will brave but all must face. I have, on this wet, starless night. I have faced my demons.