journal of a sojourner

2011 (What happened?)

2011-12-28T10:53:00.000-08:00

30. I am officially 30 years old. My saturn is returning, or has returned. Many things in motion, movement, and flux now. Somethings settling, and somethings can never settle.
Grad School. Started classes at UC Berkeley again, this time at the school of education, Principal Leadership Institute, working on my administrative degree and another masters. Took classes all summer, small groups, projects, papers and paper and papers. Read articles and articles and articles. Writing a paper about Culturally Relevant Pedagogy and Curriculum. Met some cool people in the program. Who know's where I'll be and what I'll be doing in the future.
Traveling - Mexico, Yosemite, Nor Cal. Finally. I know. I should have been there a long time ago, but I felt it was too close. But I made it. Read my memoirs here. In brief, I visited the capitol including musuems, schools, ruin sites. I went to Teotihucan, ancient ruin. Traveled to the port city or Vera Cruz, traveled south to the land of the Olmecs, and the Catemaco lake. It was special to travel alone, practice spanish, and see places I have read about. Also made it to redding to see the sundial bridge, Mt. Shasta, and the redwoods to drive through a tree! Also went camping in yosemite with the Lowell fam to swim, hike, and burn things.
Español. Half way through my fourth year of teaching, and third year of teaching Spanish at Envision Academy of Arts and Technology. Teaching 2 courses and I am really starting to fall into my groove with teaching Spanish. Attended a great training on TPRStorytelling. Plan on using it. Incorporated ancient civilizations, ethnic studies, current events, college connections, career strands, and other relevant components into my class. Kids did a fashion show project as well as a community blockumentary. Continued member of the lead team, helping with professional development, coaching teachers, and school policies. Created a hip hop rapping elective on Fridays.
Physical Fitness. Kept somewhat in shape, working out at 24 hour fitness, playing basketball in the summer (sprained my ankle, sad face). Gained and lost weight. Trying to lose 15 pounds now. Bout to start juicing. Not steroids, just fruits and vegetables. Snowboarded near Tahoe, in the Kirkwood mountains. Trying to go relatively vegan in 2012 and stop drinking bottled water.
Hip Hop Music. Its been a very slow year. I think I recorded about 8 or 9 verses. Haven't really finished any songs, but Los and Danny has been doing his thing with Faded Green. I have a few songs in the works. Here's a new year's eve bonus for you. Oh yeah other people. Favorite albums of 2011. Kendrick Lamar, Section 80. Roots Undun. Common The Dreamer, The Believer. Phonte Charity Starts at Home. Bad Meets Evil Hell. Pharaoh Monch WAR. Zion I Atomic Clock. Tried to start learning the guitar, but not much of that has been happening. Its fun though.
Politics. Occupy Oakland was amazing. photos. Went to a few marches and demonstrations. Connected it to my class through Raza History, and the United Farm Workers Movement. There were so many people out. Made me proud to be a resident of the Town.
Love. Ups and down, but I am happy and feeling pretty lovely, loved, and loving. This album makes me think of love. And this one by Anthony Hamilton.
Poetry. I haven't really written anything. Super sad face. Still thinking about publishing my book.

What will 2012 bring?

Why I fucking haattte hipsters!

2011-07-04T12:27:00.000-07:00

So I have been thinking about hipsters and I realize a few things that upset me about them. Now this is a generalization and there are plenty of exceptions to the rule. But here's the rule. A few short (details below) reasons, why I hate hipsters:

The short list:

You are not an individual, but a trend follower.
You are trying to look poor but you grew up rich.
You are trying to shake your white/middle class guilt.
You are stealing culture from those you see as less human.
Your counter culture is superficial and not making any counter dent.
You still vote along class lines, with middle class whites.
You are not cool.
You gentrify and displace poor people of color.
You are still white and not any more "down."
You are creating more hipsters

The long list.

You are not an individual. You look like all the other hipsters. Yeah you are in a group. You are not original, because that is a trend, and you are trendy. C'mon. You are not different from others, because you would have been a punk rocket, a grunge, a baggy pants wearing break dancer, or skater, when those were the trends. You are not a trend setter, but a trend follower.
You're "style" is about trying to be dirty, grimy, or natural. Miss matched or "off." Although you may believe that you are expressing your individual style, you are expressing a style that makes you look dirty and poor. Here's the problem. You are not poor and did not grow up poor, so don't act like it to make you feel better, or make your white/middle class guilt go away. As a person who grew up poor, around people who were more poor than me, I am deeply offended that you want to "act" poor. The other problem is that you won't be poor and can go back to having money when you want. So to act poor for a day, a few months, your years of college, or until you make up with mommy and daddy warbucks, is pretentious and ridiculous. You are still guilty and connected to the wealth that you inherited, that was taken from poor people. You are still the proverbial man that you so desperately want to separate yourself from. And spending some time walking around barefoot or living on the street with a dog does not take away your privilege. Because you can go back. And you spend more money to look like you have less money. Faded jeans (jeans fade when you have to wear them many times and wash them without woolite) Holey Jeans (that happens when you have to keep wearing them, not when you cut them into your new jeans) Vintage bikes (doesn't it cost more money to make it look old) So you are spending more money to look like people who don't spend a lot of money, but spending more and wasting more so can separate yourself, at least superficially, from those who have, but wasting they money that keeps you connected to the haves. How does that make sense?
And the dreadlocks and mohawk, is called culture appropriation. Its called stealing. Its called using a people. A people that you really don't want to be because you know they get treated wrongly. You don't really want to understand people of color. You just want to pretend to be them, like its Halloween, but its not, and you are not a child. You are an adult, one that is educated enough to know better. The other problem, is that people of color are forced to be more like white, and poor people are forced to be more like the wealthy, if they want to have any navigation and relative power in their society. You choose to act like people color, but you don't have to, which further illustrates the power you have. Your ability to appropriate their culture also shows the cartoon, caricature, and dehumanized status that you see them to have. Your look is their existence, but all you see is they look.
You are not a rebel. Your clothing and activities are not counter culture. If culture is a way of life and about actions, then you are forgetting the whole "way of life" part. Your clothing is not enough to make you a rebel. You have to do something about it. Have a conversation with your family about their money, investments, and how they earned/stole it. While you are critiquing the system, and everybody else, and talking about how you are better and more enlightened, you are missing out on time when you can be actually carrying out action on a system, that created the problems, that you kinda see, but are too fearful to actively and directly confront, the problems, that birthed your "style". If you want to rebel, change your life style. Stop believing that art alone will change the world. Now if all you have is art, then use it. But if you have money, time, and privilege, use that. Talk to people. Donate. Volunteer. Debate. Argue. Petition. Protest. Fight. Do stuff. Change your job.
You claim to be liberal and progressive and at times radical, but you usually vote moderate and democratic, conservative democrats at best. Here's the problem. If you really were so counter culture, and against excess and wealth, and trying to connect yourself with the poor, you would vote for the poor. Vote for tax increases. Vote for social services. Vote for a green economy. Vote for school funding. Vote for people that make this happen. Obama's not making this happen. It's up to you. You are anarchist, and "so outside this system" but you use you cultural capital, privilege, education, language, degrees, and connections to get what you want and need. You can claim to be anarchist, but you still participate and benefit from a political system benefits you and your family.
Hipster is not a culture. Neither is white. If you are looking for some culture, you should look to your ethnicity, and learn why it is so inaccessible and why so many whites assimilated. You cannot substitute a lack of culture for being dirty and miss matched. Dirty is not a culture either. Its a characteristic of being poor, which remember, you are not. And if you boil a culture down to its appearance, you are more superficial than the people critique as being so shallow.
Hipsters are not hip. That would imply that they are cool. And, by cool that means cooler than others. That would imply that they are better, which is an adjective that they criticize middle class, and upper class people for believing they are.
Oh, I forgot about gentrification. Yo move into neighborhoods of color, that used to be of color, that were white before that and off limits to people of color. You move in, buy up things with your big money, raise the property value and force people of color to move out. You economically ostracize the people of color that you kinda, I cautiously say kinda, want to be like. You move them out, and then take over it and other hipsters, call your neighborhood a cultural center. You start playing some guitar songs, and reading some poetry, and stencil painting, and people call it culture. Culture, let me remind you that was created and popularized by oppressed people, that is now called culture. But you can have a street fair, or a block party, and its not shut down by the cops.
And don't think because you are a hipster, you are somehow closer to people of color and poor people and you get a pass. Don't call me bro or say girlfriend. You are still white and grew up with money. Let's keep it real. It's not enough to have messy hair, ride a bike with a milk crate, dress odly, drink pabst blue ribbon, grow a beard, die your hair, and play the guitar. If you want to be about something, do something.
Your actions lead to more hipsters. People see you, and think you are cool, and copy you.

Hipsters. You are a part of the problem that you see but do little to solve.

Memoirs of a Maestro en Mexico

2011-04-10T23:26:00.000-07:00

Day 1 - La llegada, Museos y Murales

I made it to Mexico City nice and safely. Quiet in the city this morning. People still out from partying. Carried on all my bags. Quick flight. 4 hours. Crying babies arent too bad when u have earplugs. Slept a lot. Easy to get a taxi. 15 bucks. Hotel is huge and nice. Good start. I got in at 5 am and they let me check in early. Awesome. Nicer than Chillin in the lobby and changing inthe bathroom. Lol. Saw a billboard for thong chuck Taylor sandals and another for fanta. Lol. Gonna nap and head to the museums. Party tonight? Discotec it up?

Today. Slept in to catch up on missed sleep. It was pretty busy outside when woke up. Had breakfast of beans and chiliquiles which are like enchiladas with no meat. Good. Then I set out in food to the museum of anthropology. Basically all their ancient civilizations in one place. And buy do these mess Americans have slot of ancient history. The place was filled with models, pottery, reproduction of temple decoration, an Olmec head and statues. And this was the best. They have the original Aztec sun stone often referred to as the Aztec calendar. I knew about it but it is 10 feet tall and ten feet across. Huge! The most accurate calendar in all of history.

Then I had some street fruit and chips in the park of Chapultepec. There were all kinds of people there all locals. There was a lake with people paddle boating a clown street performer and snacks etc.

Then I hopped in a local bus to the next spot. That was an experience. I try to take as much public transept as possible. Cheaper and more down to earth. I Was a little tall for the bus but I fit. I stopped and went to the Diego Rivera museum where one if his huge murals are housed. A. Mazing. He put history in one huge picture that also communicates a critique of our existence. Crazy.

Ok. Then I walked through the alameda park and stopped at a free blues band performance. Harmonica was going. Then I found the palace of fine arts. Murals galore! Rivera. Orozco. Sizqueros. Oh my! Seeing something you have only see in pictures live and in persons both humbling and accomplishing. These artists really were dope. Influencing animation, comic books, graffiti, and multimedia. To see where they came to paint was breathtaking.

Then I walked back to the hotel had some snacks and passed through a mall on the way. Rested.

Hit up two club/bars. Realized it's a little hard to roll solo dolo to a place when everybody knows someone. But it was cool to see how people party here. Interesting. Everyone was fitted and withit. Ready to turn someone's head. My new balances werent standing up too tall. Lol. But I could run away from as high jacker. Lol. Went home. Chilled. On to the next one.

Day 2 – College, Canal Cruising, and Quesadillas

Slept in a bit. I was up too late not partying. Took the metro on my own and it was cool. Nothin but locals. Got off at the university of Mexico. Started walkin around and ran I to this random old guy. 63 years old. He befriended me and tried to guide me around the school. The only problem was that he went to the school 35 years ago. Lol. He was there during the student protests. I tried to get stories out of him but he was hard to understand. We walked and walked and found the 1958 Olympic stadium where Tommy Smith and John Carlos protested the oppression and racism in the US. Dope. The we went into the main plaza and met some more people. An older couple salmon their dogs. Vegetarians and get this pee drinkers. I know hats random but I had to ask. Why? He said you get a special hormone in the mornings urine that cures cancer and all kinds of stuff. Lol. They been doin it for 10 years. Ran. Dom. Lol. Saw some more murals and then the old guy Mario helped me get a taxi to my next destination. Xochimilco. The floating gardens. Pretty cool. You rent a boat or board a collective boat. I got in the $1.50. Lol. Fun. Mariachi players. Corn. Beer if you like that. Souvenirs. Ice cream. Plants. All for sale from boats! Hour long boat ride. There were tons of boats. People celebrating and just kickin it. The boats were pushed by a huge pole, gadola style. Real interesting. Got off and weaved my way through a bustling market of produce and meat. Btw. They eat un monton(hella) meat here. I can barely find any food without meat. Did find some quesadillas. Yum. With the central American cheese. If you ain't had it. Ask alguien. Went to a movie at the mall. Cool. Tomorrow, the pyramids!

Day 3 – The Pyramid

Did the tourist thing today. All day tour with a few travelers, from Chile, Colombia, Brazil, and Peru. Took a van to the plaza de tres culturas. Aztec ruins, colonial church and modern day government buildings. So much history in 1 place. It was a sacred place for the Aztec, then the euros came and tore down temples and force the people to build a church. In the same spot. How bout that. Then in 1968 during the student movement in Mexico hundreds of protesters were gunned down by the government military in the same plaza during a rally. It was a set up reminiscent of civil rights movements in the US. The next morning Mexico had the 1968 Olympics with no reports if it. People were scared to speak if it until about 30 years later. Crazy

Then I went to the basilica de Guadalupe. The place where Juan Diego presented his image if the virgin de Guadalupe to the priest. Story is that he was traveling and saw the virgin and saw her again and brought proof of the miracle in the form of flowers that inky grow in Spain. Then a smoke a appeared and an image of the vigil appeared. They built a church ing her honor and now it is in display in the church, the most holy place in Latin America. The image can be viewed. According to legend/faith it is the same one that miraculously appeared 500 years ago, not deteriorated at all. Almost converted me! Impressionante nonetheless.

Next up. Teotihuacan! Ancient Aztec sight. But quick stop At a rare stone shop. I like how they combine "tours" with tourist trap shopping. Not so quick stop. Whatever. Jade. Mother of pearl. 3 kinds of obsidian. Pretty nice!

Ok. Teotihuacan! Are you kidding me? This place is huge. HUGE! Pyramids. Temples. Structures. Avenues. Homes. Tumbs. All impeccably designed. It was built and then abandoned and covered up with vegetation only to be discovered. They said there were 1500 building there and it homes some 150,000 people. They built a pyramid for the moon or goddess of water and another for the sun or god of storm. The biggest pyramid has a base the size of the great pyramid of Giza but inky half the height. We climbed it. The steps were too high for me to climb carefully so ask yourself this. How did the Aztecs climb them. Don't know. But I did. All the way to el punto alto. The view, amazing. My perspective, altered. My energy, lifted yet grounded.

This is why I came to Mexico. Lo indigena. Que viva!

Day 4 – Vera Cruz

Que hay? Starting to feel somewhat at home aqui en Mexico. My spanish is improving and people keep being surprised at my fluency.

Said goodbye to Mexico city today and went to the bus station. I have to say. The bus system is organized, clean, and on time. The station, one of four was hella big. Bought my ticket and looked to see if u could spot any foreigners. Found some. 2 white women. Cool I can share this traveling with someone. Oh no. Thy are hella loud, annoying, and ignorant. Damn. Now Im Stuck. Everyone is staring at us. Did she just get a beer at 11am? Now everyone is really staring at us. So they're from sacramento. What a coincidence. Happy I didn't sit next to them in the bus.

Back to Mexico. The ride to Vera Cruz, a costa state of Mexico on the Caribbean Sea was nice. 5 hours flew by as the scenery gave me a great view as we drive through the country. Fields, hills, rivers mountains, and towns. Took me back to Honduras for a second. Funny how rural looks so similar everywhere.

Arrived in Vera Cruz. And upon getting off the bus the ocean breeze overtook me. Similar to other beach towns the calmness calmed me. Muy tranquilo. Found a hotel and had dinner with the Americans. That was interesting. But I'll skip to the good part. Heard that there were just 10 people killed in acapulco. I was actually thinking about going there. Dodged one there! Dinner. Had a whole fried fish and fried platanos maduros. Que Rico! Dropped off the gringas and went exploring.

Found the down town where there tons of people eating and drinking in the open air at the central plaza or zocalo. Music and singing. Souvenir stores and mucha gente. Walked around and bought an ice cream cone. Walked along the malecon, along the water and just enjoyed the ocean air and boats anchored in the port.

Chill day and a Nice night. Tomorrow I plan to find the Heartland of the Olmecs. Ojala que si.

Hasta

Day 5 - In Love with El Lago Catemaco

Where there is water there is life. I had to get further away from the city today and closer to the ancients of this area called aztlan. Boarded a bus headed for a town called Catemaco, about 2.5 hours south of Vera Cruz. This will be my hub for finding traces of the mighty Olmecs. Comi dos pastelitos, un de queso y el otro de guayabana. Diez peos como un dolar. The ride is beautiful again. Lagoons surrounded in lush vegetation. Canals lined with trees and cattle grazing. Oscillating hills that seem to mimic my resting heart beat. Los caballos encuentran paz un the sombra de un arbol. I find peace as I travel further from where I began. Where will I end up?

Arrival in Catemaco. The lake is beautiful. Had to haggle with a tour guide but I got lots of good informacion. Looks like I passed up the town to see the Olmec ruins but there is some cook stuff to see here. If Vera Cruz was a beach town thus is lake town. Boats everywhere, they call them lanchas. Found a cool hotel. I am finder cheaper and more "basico" places to stay. This one only 25 a night. Found a laundry finally. And met up with my guide. Got a private tour of the lake. It's beautiful. Calm but constant waves. Fisherman casting huge nets out and collecting fish. Hills, mountains, and a volcano surrounding us. The clima is warm but the lake breeze washes over me. We haws to see their patron saint's statue, and a stop at a medicinal shop/botanical garden. A woman explains how they get their minerals as she puts a facial mask in me. Kinda nice. I see why some pay for this. Then she takes me in a short trail, displaying plants that treat everything from sunburn, bruises, asthma, to an alternative to birth control pills. How bout that? She shows me a sweat lodge where indigenous people cleansed themselves from bad spirits and almost talks me into a $20 cleansing from a shaman. Almsost. Lol. I learned that they regar the Olmecs as their people, the first people. An interesting thing about the olmecas was that they regarded babies with deformities and down syndrome as blessed by the gods and praised them. They also gave then a lip piercing and earrings to set them apart. How interesting. I mean que interesante! After not buying anything at yet another tourist trap we set engine for las Islas de Los Monos. there is an island where monkeys from Thailand were brought. I fed banana to the fattest monkey i have seen. Gordisimo! Then we went to another isla where native spider monkeys crawled through a canopy of trees. Their colas or tails are just as good as arms. As we rode back to shire I wondered why I live traveling so much. Because I love new things? Because I am easily bored? Because being out of place makes me feel at home? Because the world is so large and I so small? Not sure but I Love it.

Dinner is fried fish, frijoles, and platanos. Can't ever go wrong with that! Hope I can catch the sunset in the lake. I think this why I became a teacher.

Wait there's more. Went out to the zocalo/plaza and there were a grip of people out there. All ages. Families, couples and kids. There was a group of dirty, earthy pollo ing people doing circus tricks and stuff. I asked two people who they were and they said hippies. Lol. Said they choose to live in the street and camp. Very similar to the bohemian/hippie/street people of the US. Interesting. Things end early here. Un dia interesante en el estado de Vera Cruz.

Hasta mañana.

Day 6 – Memelas, el Mar, y los Mariscos

What a day! Never know what you are going to get. I have noticed that as soon as I start getting comfortable in a new place it's time to go. Today was no exception to this rule. Started off at the taxi rural mixto terminal. I had the plan of going to the beach called montepio and spending the day swimming eating and reading. Had. Lol. Well I went to get some food and found out what a memela was. It is a huge tortilla filled with frijolitos and whatever else you want. I added queso and got a side of maduros/sweet plantains. Un desayuno catemaqueno.

I ended up getting in the back of a covered pick up truck, the cabina and I understood why it was a mixto, because it's mixed truck and bus. Lol. Well I sat and I noticed that the people on board were a little strange. A guy started talking to me and I was instantly a part of their little grupo. Turns out that three if then were from the Capitol doing a little sightseeing here too. What luck.

After about an hour of talking I the truck I Decided To join them in their trip. They said the beach wasn't that nice and they were headed to some beautiful cliff. So we get off and get in another truck and end up where we are suppose to. Backstory. Alfonso the funny guy is a drummer in the Mexican symphonic orchestra. His wife Lupita sells perfume and the other guy, Diego is a publicist. What luck that I run into 3 other cool travelers.

We walk to the water and find a pretty quiet beach. I swam in the gulf of Mexico and hijo, fue rico. It was nice. Not many waves. Warm water. All good. Todo sano. Ate a few empanadas de queso y camarron. We signed up for a boat ride for the four of us. It was awesome. Ride out past the waves and passed a hidden beach. Passed a 100 foot high cliff that had many kinda if geological formations. That was beautiful. Looked like something you find in Arizona or Yosemite but right next to the eater. 3 kinda of cacti and all kinds of plants grew in the cliff. People climb up it with the right gear. Then we saw a cave that you can kayak through. Next we passed the Islam of birds where you can come right up in about a hundred pelicans and seagulls. They circled above us and fish was fragrant in the air. Afterwards we returned to shore which was great because I needed some stable ground.

To return we rode in the back of a truck in the open air, making it easy to appreciate the beauty. We talked about Mexico, centro america, social issues in the us, immigration, capitalism, religion, everything. I learned just as much about them as they did about me. Speaking a language fluently makes a hell of a difference. Then we rode another bus and got back after sunset. Dinner fried fish, beans, rice, and horchatan de coco. Sabroso. We dropped off Diego at the bus and he invited me to hang out with before I leave. Think I'll take him up in that.

Tomorrow lupita and Alfonso want to join me in Santiago to see the Olmec heads and they invited back to Vera Cruz to see more of it, since that's where he's from. Seems like my final days are filling up fast. Que divertido. Me encanta a Mexico.

Day 7 - Las Olmecas y otras objetos que no voy a olvidarme

Time to leave the lake town. Met up with the chilangos (people from the capital city) and we grabbed a taxi to Santiago Tuxtla, in of the Olmec sights. Arrived at the central plaza where they have the largest Olmec head in the center as if it were regular decoration. As if. This is monument 1, the biggest if all the heads found, taller than me and almost as wide as my wingspan. Hugemongous. It's the head with it's eyes closed. Some say because it's unfinished. Im sorry but did I say it's really bug and weighs like 30 tons. One piece of volcanic basalt rock. Dios mios! Then we visited a local museum. Learned that Olmecs practiced a form of facial and skull deformation for beauty. The high class made the back of there heads flat and made their eyes cross. Why, not sure but strange and curious nonetheless. Oh yeah it's hit still. The curator also showed us a special mystical piece that upon touching it with your thumb and closing your eyes, you see strange things and become more peaceful. Should I touch it? So after I touched, you I touched it, I felt somewhat different. Didn't see the images but maybe I have t believe like pixie dust. But I felt a little strange. Then we went upstairs to a new exhibition where scientists studied the relationship between the a temple and movement of celestial bodies. This temple built by the otmati people is located in the state of Guanajuato. They made it so that the moon moved around the temple like clockwork like a year long clock. And the solstice and eclipse was positioned directly over the temple between two large structures. That's math, science, astrology, architecture. And they connected the positions with a calendar that corresponded to the seasons and harvests. 18 months of 20 days with 5 days of rest. More accurate than out calendar today. That's genius. Take that Galileo and newton and copurnicus. . that's ethnic studies. Think kids of color would benefit from that knowledge. Maybe even the white ones. Lol. Another story. But amazing nonetheless.

On a second class bus back to Vera Cruz. I don't quite fit in the seat but its all bueno. Todo sano. I can feel the greenery rejuvenating my soul as the leaves wave goodbye to me. AC is not so important when the country breeze blows through the windows and ruffles the curtains. As long as we are moving. That is what is important. Movement. Adelante! Siempre.

Finally, after 3 hours, a bag of Jugo de guayabana, a bag of platano totones and a few dulces we arrived in the port city of Vera Cruz. Lupita and Alfonso chose to stay in my same hotel. We dined together and I had orchata, fish tacos with frijolitos, queso y platanos. On a pier we meet an austrian man who studied post colonial latin america and had a tatoo of quetzalcoatl on his leg Que mexicano. I told him i was a quarter austrian and he didnt believe it. Ha! Cool guy nonetheless. Walked along the malecon, had some mango and some ice cream. Yum. Flavors I never heard of because they are from fruit that dont exist in the US. El maracuya, nanche, and the mamey. Couldn't even try to tell u what they tasted like. Ademas, we looked at some souvenirs for the kids back home, and walked through the zocalo, cracking jokes the whole way. I must have done some good stuff in my past life to have found such easy going, kind, and inviting people while traveling. There was a performance of baile folklorico in the central stage and an audience member explained the dances to me as I ate my helado. Next we a little cafecito con leche y un poco de pan dulce. Que rica fue el cafe, hecha aqui en Vera Cruz.

We ended the night with a walk back along the boardwalk, where we passed street performers, vendors, a night city tour bus, couples, families, and kids. Such a nice night. Somehow the thick humidity didn't bother me much. Our conversations about reincarnation, kharma, shakras, spirituality, wisdom and experience was enough to stimulate my mind. I think I'm gonna miss this place called mexico. Lo voy a extranar mucho.

Day 8 - Mole Poblano para mi por favor

Hopped on the first thing fumando this morning headed back to the big city. My surrogate parents lupe y pancho came to send me off. How nice. Bus was cool. Ended up sitting next to a lady who worked in human resources at a gambling slot in the Capitol. Lol. Said that she works 10-8 with a 2 hour break. Interesting. Cool ride, half watched a few movies in Spanish and might I add, I am starting to understand them much easier and not just the cartoons. Lol. Made it through the traffic and checked I to my hotel. Very niiice. Went to the historic center called the, wait for it, zocalo! This is gigantic. The biggest public gathering space after Russia's and China's. On one side is the national palace, on the other the oldests cathedral, and on the other government buildings. Within the plaza there were tents and tents and shops and people and food and performers and people. Lots of people. On my way to the zocalo I passes what I would call down town. Felt like I was in new York or down town sf or la, no joke. Birds of people. Here there. Street vendors and performers. I saw batman, dude from pirates of the carribean, sponge bib, silver guy, serial killer man (wait was he acting?) clowns, break dancers, Aztec dancers, day of the dead woman, and more. A trip. How did I not come here first. At the zocalo I went to the temple mayor named appropriately because it is the oldest temple in Mexico (mesheeco) founded by the mesheecad (mexicas) on a lake. At the temple you can see the original stones and some structures as they were in 1325. They continue to find more artifacts as the dig and build in the area. This is near where they found the huge Aztec calendar. In the museum you can see bones, artifacts, huge monoliths, carvings and more. Amazing. Huge statues too. After that I walked around the zocalo, cruised and perused the shop avenues, and enjoyed the atmosphere. Watched people getting cleansed by azteclly dressed cleansers. Bought some souvenirs and took a long walk back. And here I am, ending my night with a plate of enchiladas de mole poblano. Un arroz con leche y un cafecito. Mexico lindo. Ordale.

1st pair of glasses

2010-06-18T18:32:00.000-07:00

My Eyes Failed the Test
First of all, how bout I have never had an eye exam. I thought it was those DMV things where you read the letters while covering one eye. Um, its a lot more complicated. You strap your face into this matrix of the face machine and they look for glaucoma, check to see how hydrated your eyes are (btw mine are dry, i should blink more often when i look at the computer says the eye doctor), and they also check to see what kind of lenses you need. My question is, if this is such a good thing, how come I never did it before and my doctors have never said anything about it.

Not all Frames are Created Equal
So I browsed the frames and no surprise. The cheap ones look funny and the cool looking ones are $400. Now I know designers make glasses frames too. My bad kharma made it so that the only ones I liked were Prada. I had a left lean towards the Malcolms of course so the wire frames looked a little too conservative for me. The glasses man wanted me to get the "trendy" frames. Apparently nerdy was in. As if, glasses weren't nerdy enough, the big boxy ones were "in." He forgot to mention that nerdy would be "out" later, sometime before my insurance would cover a new pair of glasses, and after I got tired of them. I narrowed it down to 2 options, a more sleek one and a more boxy heavy frame. The glasses man went on to tell me, pulled from some cosmo magazine that the sleek one made me look more friendly and approachable and the boxy one made me look more serious. I was like, hey, I'm a serious guy, and teaching is a serious profession, but i didn't like all the flashy bling on the side of the serious frame. I went with the sleek look.

Bells and Whistles
Have you heard of the transition lenses? They change to sunglasses when you go into the sun. 2 for 1 times 2, for an additional 88 bucks. Whoever said convenience and dual function were cheap. Then you "have to have" UV protection, scratch guard, and polycarbonate something or other, that's another 20 bones. And if you want, you can get the glare reducer, thats 50 bills. But add all that up and minus the insurance coverage, and you get what I paid, too much, for some glasses, that I will now be dependent on and forever indebted to the glasses people.

But whatever, at least I can see better when I am driving at night, and i won't skwint so much any more.

Egypt Summer 2010

2010-06-17T00:06:00.000-07:00

I'm Going to Egypt

While She Sleeps

2010-05-11T00:04:00.000-07:00

She sleeps,
and lets go,
no more aching arches,
no more tingling nerves,
no more tight shoulders,
the sleep soothes her,
moves her forward,
she loosens up,
a metaphysical massage,
her mind has found the mirage,
where she can escape the barrage,
she sleeps,
with each exhale,
there is a sigh of relief,
a sign of belief,
in her own abilities,
in her grown capabilities,
in her emotional agility,
she has no humility,
and knows no futility,
anything is possible,
when she sleeps.

She sleeps,
She sleeps,
and while she sleeps,
there is release.

she sleeps,
and puts down the boulder,
at last,
alas,
she does not have to be atlas,
she does not have to carry the burden,
she does not have to be everything to everyone,
she can be herself,
for herself.
she can simply,
be.

while she sleeps,
she is not her worst critic,
but her best friend,
her biggest fan,
her personal paparatzi,
she sees all that she is,
she appreciates her successes,
acknowledges her beauty,
recognizes her intelligence,
knows her power,
pictures her potential,
is sure she is far more than simple,
she is in love with herself,
while she sleeps.

her arms return to her body,
2 arms that are often pulled,
in more than 2 directions,
by more than 2 people,
her arms are free to return,
like a orchids leaves,
constantly reaching for sunlight,
her arms are free,
to wrap themselves around her,
embrace her,
nurture her,
console her,

when she sleeps,
she can let her hair down,
smile instead of frown,
become deaf to the noises all around,
the sirens,
the screams,
the cries,
the lies,
deaf to the sounds of the town,

while she sleeps,
superwoman can finally take her cape off,
she does not have to save the day,
not tonight at least,
she can brush her proverbial shoulders off,
and she can relax,
unwind the spools of her spirit,
that were spun,
as soon as the last day begun,
spools of her soul,
that make threads that keep the fabric whole,
spools of her essence,
that manifest her message,
spools that are wound tighter than her clinched teeth,
she can relax,
when she sleeps,
and breathe,
she can breathe,
breathe.
she does not even need to dream,
right now,
she only is required to rest,
focus on breath,
the rising and falling of her chest,
while she sleeps.
there is no stress.

She sleeps,
She sleeps,
and while she sleeps,
there is release.
She sleeps,
and when she sleeps,
no one weeps.

she lays,
and she levitates,
floats,
on clouds,
she coasts,
harmonizing,
with heavenly bodies,
hitting high notes,
she has nothing,
but high hopes,
a lost angel,
en los angeles,
drifting home,
after looking out for others,
she can look out for herself
look to the skies,
she brushes the heavens,
while she sleeps,
and there is nothing,
she cannot reach.

She sleeps,
She sleeps,
and while she sleeps,
there is release.
She sleeps,
and when she sleeps,
no one weeps,
because while she sleeps,
there is peace.

she sleeps,
because there is always another day,
another battle,
another injustice,
another war,
another student,
another need,
another task,
another challenge,
there is always another day,
and she needs to be ready,
tomorrow she has to be ready,
but for now,
for tonight,
she sleeps.

Coastin - New Song by Some of All Parts

2010-05-04T19:01:00.000-07:00

If you have ever road a bike, or you ride one regularly, you will love this song.
Old school beat with a new lyrics by your favorite group cleanin' up Hip Hop, SOAP.

Happy Birth-DAY

2010-04-27T22:43:00.001-07:00

Ok.
It does happens once a year.

Ribbon,
Wrapping paper,
Red Bows.
Presents,
presented to you.
the president,
positioned in your palace,
everyone trying to please,
everyone dying to appease,
you.
coz its your birthday.

You pick the place.
your favorite restaurant,
your favorite theater,
your favorite lounge.
Everybody comes.
For you.
at least stops by,
to pay their respects,
show that they care,
go out of their way,
Its your day.
Your day.
Day.

Your favorite music plays
Your favorite games are played.
Everyone dances with you.
You pick our your favorite outfit.
Everyone tells you how nice you look.
You are a movie star on your birthday.
there is red carpet everywhere,
velvet.

Everyone greets you.
Sadly says bye before leaving.
flashing lights,
paparazzi,
pictures with everyone.
and you.
hey.
it is your birthday after all.
and you are the center of attention.
it is the one day when it is truly all about you.
You pick the favorite foods.
You get to nibble a little bit of everything.
You can pig out that day.
Its your day.
Day.

There's even desert.
ice cream
sprinkles,
syrup,
cherries,
and,
there's cake.
maybe even an ice cream cake.
frosting,
and candles.
you even get to make a wish,
can it get any better?

you can't wait to eat that cake.
to show it off and enjoy it,
to share it with everyone.
give them a little bit of happiness,
made possible by you,
coz its your day,
but,
wait,
you also want to take the cake home,
because its so pretty,
you want to treasure it,
to enjoy it at your convenience,
two paths present themselves,
eat it or keep it?

but hey,
chill out,
remember,
its your birthday,
just get 2 cakes,
one for everyone to eat,
one to keep for later,

you can do that,
its your birthday,
your birthday,
day,
you can have your cake,
and you can eat it too,
coz its your birthday.

well it was your birthday,
and you know what?
everyday ain't your birthday.
today ain't your birthday.
and tomorrow ain't your birthday either.
so sorry to say,
but,
other than on your birthday,
you can't have your cake and eat it too.

Fashion Show Recap - Appreciations and Thank Yous

2010-02-27T11:17:00.001-08:00

It was soooooo amazing! Videos and Pics coming soon.

Background:
After learning the relevant vocabulary and grammar, my students planned a Fashion Show completely in Spanish and presented last night at our school. They picked a thematic outfit, described it in spanish, including the color, cost, fabric and brand, and wrote a fashion show script all in spanish. Students then recorded their scripts into the computer, edited the sound, mixed it with the sound, and added music. They then set it up and modeled their clothes while their sound played and then had to answer 1-4 questions on the spot about their outfit in Spanish. ALL IN SPANISH.

Re cap:
Around 45 students presented! We had Winter Wear, Too Sexy Rohland, Mario & Luigi, Ninjas, Athletes, Pajama wear, summer wear, formal, business, struts on the catwalk, jumps, rolls, autotuned voices, lots of songs, a barrel roll, and smiles, etc.) They also defended their knowledge by answering on the spot questions. Student improvised when technology failed by reading each others scripts (laura and cindy) and other just held the mic and described their clothes in spanish on the spot (julian, enandi, wambui)

Thanks yous:
There were guest judges (thanks to rodrigo, daisy, dan, marijke, cesar, and jessica) There was Decor Galore, lights, posters and signs, (thanks to anthony, kamau, darrell, alexis, bryan, edward) The audience was packed (20+ parents, daryl, yusef, ainye, jonny, anne, art students, my friend daivid and ryan, my mom) and there was only standing room for the first half of the show. We had to get extra chairs!

There were performances (thanks to wambui on guitar, mike, jeremy, and derrick for rapping, and 3 steppers) Students hosted (thanks to Lamar, Tamia and Maceo) Program were printed (thanks to anna)

Rubrics were made (thanks to mom, and rohya) Music was recorded (thanks to Thomas, Delicia, Kalid, Zach) and the music was all mixed (thanks to Thomas) and the sound was ran by students (Jamal and Thomas again) Video was shot (thanks to morgan and tyrell pier)

Snacks were provided (thanks to Zinnermom and my my mom) Students greeted (thanks to Bryan) Banners and Decoration was put up (thanks to emma and crew) Students did thing thing. I was so proud to see them and hear the great feedback.

Thanks to everyone who attended and helped out. The students, parents and I greatly appreciated it.

Another Ordinary Day

2010-01-30T01:38:00.001-08:00

It was an ordinary day, like any other day, a Sunday in specific. I was concentrating on the clues in the crossword puzzle on page A12 of the New York Times, when all of a sudden, the coldest breeze blew past the rust-colored leaves on my front lawn. It had been a mild autumn and this gust of wind was terribly unexpected. The wind turned turned the pages and stopped on an article that I had not noticed before, a missing person's story about a woman who had disappeared from her porch, without a trace.

She was described to of had long black hair, soft eyes, and intense energy about her. Although I had been interrupted from my weekly reading of the paper, I was instantly drawn into the story. What compelled me to continue reading was the uncanny correlation between this woman and myself. The police reported that they had found nothing on her porch but a crumpled copy of the Sunday paper and pair of glasses.

I glanced down and noticed my own glasses resting on the table next to me. I wondered for a moment what this young woman's glasses might have looked like. Were they thick black frames or something more slim and wire-rimmed like my own. "Huh" I sighed softly, "wonder what happened to her." As I continued to read on, more and more similarities began to arise. She was 27, as I was, and lived alone, as I did. There must have been some reason the wind took me to this page, and some reason that I had read this article on this day. But what was that reason? Had god given me a glimpse into the future, of a possible path laid out before me? Had the devil put the temptation before me of changing my future for an undisclosed price? Was my friend at the newspaper simply playing a cruel trick on me? Whatever the answer, I could not peel myself away from the paper or from my porch, not even for the life of me.

The woman, was only identified by her first initial, J, was an outgoing yet private woman. She punched in and punched out daily at her job, watched her share of prime-time television, and had only a few friends. Nothing struck me as a reason why she would be abducted or attacked. She was a typical, ordinary woman. Then, I thought to myself, "My god, was I this ordinary?" I mean, I did fun things... didn't I? My thoughts quickly skimmed over the past few weeks of activities. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were spent at the gym. Saturdays a little cleaning at home, maybe a movie or lunch with a friend and on Sundays, grocery shopping. "Oh, no!", I thought, I really am that ordinary.

And if I am this ordinary, if those were my glasses that were found, if that was my porch in the article, and if that was my paper they found crumpled on the floor, then I was her. I was the woman someone was coming for. Someone was coming for me. For, me. Me. To take me somewhere, to someplace, never to be heard of again. So I jumped to my feet, and almost as if they waited for me to finish the last lines of the article, they arrived write on time. I had finished the part where they described the assailants. But it was too late, or better yet too early, for it was then, when they, came. They were just as described, 2 men, dark clothes, black hats, and leather boots. My ordinary day was ending as extraordinary, as I could ever have imagined. I struggled. My glasses fell. My paper dropped. And then, I was gone. And the wind blew. And, the leaves rustled.

2009 In Review (What did I do?)

2010-01-18T22:00:00.000-08:00

What happened in my life in 2009?

Educational Consulting. I finished my contract at RT Fisher and Associates, where I created curriculum for a Middle School, designed programs for teacher support and development, and brainstormed about Education Services in gerneal
Traveling to Ghana. Spent 7 weeks in Ghana, volunteering, traveling and immersing myself in the country. I taught teachers to teach and taught kids to play sports (basketball, dodgeball, follow the leader, steal the bacon, volleyball). I travelled to the Slave Dungeons, National Rainforest, Waterfall, Capitol of Accra, Trading Center of Kumasi, and spend some time on the beach of Ghana. Learned a local language, called Ewe, and local drumming. Met tons of people, and enjoyed myself.
Spanish Teaching. Started a new job at Envision Academy of Arts and Technology. Teaching 2 courses. Helped with WASC process. Started a young black men's group, starting to implement a new Homework Accountability Program at school, building alliances and community with black staff and parents, taught an advisory of 11th Graders.
Physical Fitness. Kept relatively in shape, working out at 24 hour fitness, working out on tree branches in Ghana, riding bikes, swimming in the river in Sacramento, hitting pullups on my bar at home, doing pushups, and playing basketball.
Hip Hop Music. Finished up our first 4 promo songs. Had a performance at UC Berkeley in April, and a performance opening for Zion-I in September. Launched someofallparts.com
Poetry. Got back into poetry. Wrote some new poems and music. Read a few times at the Air Lounge. Began thinking about publishing my book again.

Deja Vu (what will you do)

2009-12-25T01:30:00.000-08:00

Life,
is not linear,
Because life
is cyclical.
Life spins round and round.

Like a father spinning his son around in circles at the park.
staring into each other's eyes,
one nostalgic looking into the past,
the other anxiously looking towards what is to come.

Life has a way of cycling around,
Sometimes showing us memories,
Old photos and hand written letters,
dried flowers and mahogany hallmark cards,
life cycles back,
and at the same time flashing forward,

toward possible futures,
looking at houses where I could one day live,
picking out names that you would one day give,
so many options,
but you see the signs?

Call it glitches, visions,
Call it déjá vu,
what will you do when it comes back to you,
Call it glitches, visions,
Its déjá vu,
what will you do, what will you do?

Life continues to spin,
like water in whirlpool,
cleansing,
or like wind in a tornado,
destroying,
life continues to cycle,
What we do when it spirals back around,
is what makes it interesting.
What can make it unpredictable,
Do we notice the sign?

Call it glitches, visions,
Call it déjá vu,
what will you do when it comes back to you,
Call it glitches, visions,
Its déjá vu,
what will you do, what will you do?

Life comes back around,
It does, and it did, and it will again,
life will come back around.
Ask yourself, is it really that different from the first time, from next time, from this time?
Is life the same and you different,
Has life changed and you remained,

When it comes back around,
will you take paths you could have took?
will you shake the hands you could have shook?
will take that exit of the high way,
Or will you miss the signs again?

Every day is a new day
And every day is the same day.
A chance to do it all over again,
Or to do it all the same,

The choice is yours,
But do you to see the signs?

Call it glitches, visions,
Call it déjá vu,
what will you do when it comes back to you,
Call it glitches, visions,
Its déjá vu,
what will you do, what will you do?

Life does cycle back around,
It did, and it will again,
life will come back around.
I see the signs,
I see the cycles,

I see the paths,
I see my Saturn returning.
What will I do with it,
and what will it do for me?

What will I do when life cycles back around?
What will I do?

i know what i want

2009-11-30T19:36:00.000-08:00

look,
I know what I want.
I've thought about it a lot.
Im not sure if what I want is what I need,
but,
I know what I want.
but,
I don't need anything.
in fact,
I am learning to live without what it is I want,
because its so hard to find what I want.
See somethings that i want are near impossible to find,
and they say the harder it is to find them,
then the better it is,
see,
it makes it more special,
but the difficulty in finding the impossible is so frustrating,
that sometimes I stop looking,
and it takes so long,
that sometimes I forget what it was that I wanted.
and sometimes it doesn't even matter if I find what I want,
because,
there's what I want and then,
there's when I want it.
because timing is everything,
and I keep the time,
and I want what I want when I want it.
so I may not even take what i want, if its not when I want it.
or I may feel like I don't want it anymore when I can get what I want.
and to be honest,
I might even want something else when I get what I want.
coz my wants and needs change,
because they're mine,
i get to say what it is I want,
and I may not want it,
if it calls into question I,
coz its not about what I want,
its about the person who want it,
me,
I,
am the one who wants it,
and I know what I want.
but,
will i ever get it?

her humility

2009-11-30T19:29:00.000-08:00

its her humility that hits me hardest,

a power so strong within her,

yet she knows not of it,

or she does know yet holds back,

from letting this light shine,

through and out of her body,

or she may be simply holding on,

to the last bit her normalcy,

before the spirits that she harbors break free,

and overtake her body.

i wish to be there when she lets go.

i feel like writing poetry (again)

2009-11-22T21:01:00.000-08:00

i wanna thank you,
coz,
i feel like writing poetry again,
and i thought that i didn't write poetry anymore,
i thought i left that phase of my life behind,
with mash games and middle school crushes,
i moved past poetry and all suchness,
past the rushes of blood,
past the flushes of cheeks,
past adolescent blushes,
yet i find myself red in face again,
and i find myself,
a little unable to express,
myself,
and its rare for me to be at a loss for words,
which is why i write,
or why i used to write,
so i could be so intentional in every word,
but im past poetry,
i don't do that no more.

no longer do i hold my journal up to my chest,
and let the warm fuzzys permeate through me,
like osmosis,
i know this may sound hypocritical,
considering im talking about not writing poetry in a poem,
but im still a poet,
a poet that doesn't write poetry,
because,
even my poetry imitates life,
its at best impressionistic and abstract,
almost cubist,
don't call me picasso,
but eyes have always been a little bigger than my stomach,
but my the eyes are always a little left of center,
and my Is are never dotted,
coz its never really been,
about me,
but will always be,
about you,
my poetry has always been a little super fantastic,
a little surreal,
thus,
life never quite lives up to my words,
and Im left,
let down, like after the credits roll in romantic comedy,
and you have to go back to your life where you laugh,
only so you don't have to cry at the lack of romance in it,
my poetry has always been a little too pure, too perfect,
so i stopped writing it,
perhaps around the same time, i stopped dreaming,
stopped hoping that i could have something to write about,
stopped hoping that what i wrote about,
would be there when i stopped writing,
i stopped hoping that what i described would endure,
i stopped writing poetry.

but there's gotta be some other therapeutic task for me,
some other way for me to make meaning of what i experience,
something else for me to do after i have met this person,
and all i want to do is sit down and dedicate a piece of page to her,
sit down and forever memorialize our meeting in a metaphor,
like a lunar eclipse,
sit down and write a poem about her,
but i can't do that,
coz i don't write poetry,
and even as my poetry now becomes self aware,
and i become conscious that i am indeed writing another poem,
i am still in denial,
lost in the nile that flows through my shakras,
and onto this page,
a page that i pretend doesn't exist,
a page that is not filled with sweet nothings,
coz there's nothing sweet about what i write about,
coz life don't come in 5 colors,
flavored in high fructose,
love don't taste like the rainbow,
but in my poetry love does have traces of lavender and vanilla,
raisins and molasses,
splashes of sweetness,
if only life did have the same taste
but it don't
so i decided not to write,
right?

but yet and still you make me wanna write again,
brush the dust of my composition notebook,
and put pen to page,
burn patchouli and sage,
u make me wanna stand on stage,
and declare it to as many people as can cram into a cramped space,
what they call art i call therapy,
what they call poetry i call a public courting,
a manifesto of emotion,
a 10 point platform in poetic form.
What I want?
That's simple.
You.
What I believe?
Well, I believe that our paths crossed for a reason,
and that may sound cliche,
it may be coincidental that our clicks probably click,
and its not inconsequential that our connection goes back,
farther than talking drums and teeth clicks,
and its this timeless energy that drew us together.
that drew me back to pen,
back scribbling words on receipts and envelopes,
when that's the only paper that i have within reach,

and,
i so desperately tried to leave that time behind,
i threw pens away and burned pages
said i would never do this again,
never return to a time,
when i could transfer this feeling in my chest,
into words and metaphors,
and let the butterflies that she gives me flutter between the pages of my poetry,
of her poetry,
because truth be told,
i am just the writer,
and its the movements she makes that are real poetry,
like a visual literary device,
something between, texture, tone and the overall feeling that reading poetry actually gives you.
she is the poetry, so maybe i am not really writing,
but merely reading what is written on the outer shell that is her aura,
simply interpreting the language of love that she speaks so fluently,
the language of the body,
that can't really be confined to the written word,
but i try my best,
even though i said i wouldn't,
i make an honest attempt,
coz i thought i was done writing poetry,
but here i am doing it again,
so it looks like things can change,
looks like i can still write,
as long as i have something to write about.
thank you for being that something.
thank you for bringing me back to poetry.

Soul Music - My Favorite Artists

2009-11-14T23:06:00.000-08:00

I love soul music. always have. its speaks to me. perhaps it is my difficulty in expressing emotion externally. perhaps it speaks for me. its the music and the lyrics, usually sadder songs hit me harder. why is that? don't know for sure. I believe i am done with the saddest parts of my life and ready for happiness. but its the heartbroken, down and out, struggling music that moves me. if i could sing, i would always being singing. i do when i can, in the shower, in the car, walking listening to my ipod. i love to hum along too. there are so many artists and so many i don't know about. here's my list of artist i like. its growing all the time. here's my list of artist i like. its growing all the time.

Maxwell
Anthony Hamilton
Sade
Jill Scott
Van Hunt
Amel Larrieaux
Melanie Fionna
D'Angelo
Bilal
Alicia Keys
India Arie
Ledisi
Musiq
Chrisette Michelle
Dave Hollister
Eryka Badu
Floetry
Goapele
Raheem Devaughn
Martin Luther
Heather Headley
Leela James
Lyfe Jennings
Me'Shell Ndegéocello
Prince
Raphael Saadiq
Vivian Green
Jennifer Johns
Kindred
Sam Cooke
Nina Simone
Jazzyfatnastees
Corinne Bailey Rae
Dwele
Hil St. Soul

Reisiduals (of love)

2009-11-06T21:23:00.000-08:00

sure,
I can ball up pages,
erase writing,
redecorate,
bathe,
empty frames,
clear out self space,
yet,
there is still a trace.

there is still the residuals.

the floating,
lingerings of love,
the things that remain,
the things that hang,
in the air,
a permanent scent,
mixed somehow into my covers,
blended between my sheets,
indented infinitely in the memory foam,
of my mattress that is my mind.

its these residuals,
these visuals,
of love,
a silhouette cast from candle light,
the eyes that are shine bright,
in the darkness of my shut eyes.
the face i see in a crowd,
images that I imagine,
mirages of marriage,
the lips that i can trace,
freehand,
in one continuous motion,
the essence of emotion,
the presence of the ever-present.

the residuals of love,
grooves in the street,
that still guide me,
to our our old house,
stains on the porch,
that remain,
creaks in the steps,
squeaks in the hinges,
each with their own memory,

the echos of love,
the sounds,
that superimpose themselves,
on the soundtrack of my life,
that bounce around in my ears,
like waves in seashells,
the scratches and skips on a favorite cd,
that keep me in a sentimental mood,
elegant like Ellington,
blue like Coltrane,
the things that remain.

the residuals.

the aftertaste of love,
vanilla, cinnamon and brown sugar,
the sweetness,
the tenderness of my tongue,
after sipping chamomile tea.
the stain of pomegranate juice on fingers,
the things the remain,
like leftovers of a meal,
that was never quite finished,
an extra place setting for dinner,
doubled portions,
old habits that are hard to break,
happiness is hard to fake,
it takes time for it to wear off,
to tear off the old layers,
to shed the tears.

perhaps it takes years,
to rid myself of these residuals.

the feeling of your hand in mine,
fingers interlocked,
tips playing tag,
palms pressed,
live lines elongated.
the warmth of your cheek on mine,
as we whispered secrets to each other at night.
as we made up our own language,
a language that is quickly dying,
words passed down,
like oral history,
the fruits that try to retain the essence of the roots,
the connection that dares to remain.

its these residuals,
that remain,
after the blame,
after the games.

these residuals of love,
that maintain,
that stay the same.

these residuals of love,
that remain,
when everything evaporates,
that have me waiting for the rain,
that have me watching the moon,
wax and wane,
wondering,
what shall I do with these residuals?
with what is left of love
the tastes,
the smells,
the sounds,
the touch,
the sights.

Prom Queen - circa summer 2002

2009-09-12T23:49:00.000-07:00

Prom Queen

Ladies and Gentleman, Class of 2000. The moment you have all been waiting for, The votes are in, with a unanimous decision, the award for prom queen goes, to…

The spotlight creeps towards her, and she smiles with her style, far from wild, with the mind of the child, she aims to please, to appease and seize your complete attention, not to mention that a week before prom she is glancing in the mirror, balancing her aluminum foil crown, enhancing her gold gilded brown gown, if you only she could her pretty toes on the ground, and you know,

Shes never seen downtown, coz she would literally drown in the sea of sounds, shed wipe out in the waves of woe, and absolutely no team of coast guards could travel the amount of yards to bring her back here, coz she’s so outside the loop, so disconnected from circle, that to her, its more like a sphere, and I fear that she will never cut her way in, coz the only incision she needs bleeds and is a cerebral circumcision, to cut away all the unnecessary figurative flaps of flesh, that depreciate her mental state, that activate the ducts behind her eyes and make her cry, and so she sheds and so she sheds, and so she sheds so many shallow tears.

All a result of her years of conditioning, all from her parents choice in positioning, and who could blame them, they were just listening to the voice in their heads, they just wanted to get ahead, they wanted her life to start free from anger, free from the daily dangers of the streets, they found a place where she could surely sleep in peace, in security, so that when she reached the right maturity, she possessed a light of purity, ‘because out of sight out of mind’ right? Let me remind you that they were just coping, and hoping to alleviate their inner pity, they chose to deviate from the inner-city, now don’t go and get giddy, but I hope you appreciate being able to grow up in your 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom white picket fenced house, with 2.5 siblings, and a pool and a dog, with your 3^rd eye blinded by fog,

and as I finish this 3 minute monologue of rage on stage, she flips through her catalogue, page by page, and picks out a pair of pretty pink pants. She decides to take a change, coz every1 knows, she seldomly goes in downtown’s direction, but theres an exception to every rule, and if you stare long enough, a reflection in every pool, so on Friday, following the student body elections at school, she gets a ride to the mall. So along with Garvus, she walks right up to the store, past the pack of picketing protestors, and shit, shes gotta be heartless, but she doesn’t’ event look twice at the huge pictures of a poor animals bloody carcass, in fact she arrogantly shoots right through the doors of Nieman Marcus, to go shopping, she figures a fur wrap would look good with her prom dress, and they say that we’re the mess, and while we’re out here tryin to get the cream, shes in her suburban home, living the Amerikan dream. Coz shes a prom queen, nah mean?

And ladies, It may be hard to believe, but brothers, Im sure you’ve seen, the type, who walks around with those jeans that are oh so tight, who strategically, places herself, directly in you sight, sitting up straight, smiling with those bright pearly whites, the type who laughs at all you jokes, never picks a fight, because don’t forget rule #1, that the customer is always right, and yah boy thinks its you she likes, but thats just noise, don’t believe the hype, don’t buy it, coz as soon as you ask her whats she’s doing tonite, shes smile and bask in her own delight. And look that’s her thong in your mouth, looks like you just took that bite, and your on her hook, and now shes got you sprung and shook, shes got you fantacizin now, in your head your goin insane, dancing in the rain, crying in pain, singing Whoaaa! And like Usher, you wish you could hit that high note, coz you got it bad,

But to snap back to reality, in her head, she just but a check mark by your name, 10 minutes ago, she played him just the same, its just a game and Im sorry hommie, but u’re just another vote, so try to cope, when she pulls on your rope, tightening the noose, coz shit wuts the use, you ask again and she’ll just make up another excuse,

But Im here to say that theres no need for further abuse, too late to offer up a truce, especially now coz Im bringing the chickens home to roost, and by the smells comin from my kitchen, from the bubbles in the water, from the sound of that sizzling, I believe that’s your goose cookin, coz baby in my book, you’re nothin more than good lookin. Im gonna get back to my mission to get this cream, my little piece of the socalled American dream, and in ten years, you’ll just be the semi same ole prom queen, with an overpriced dress that doesn’t fit anymore, a dusty crown, wilted flowers, a hangover, smeared makeup, an empty wine bottle, and a self esteem lower than the soles of your brand new shoes, and like sade says, should I say, It hurts like brand new shoes, coz that’s something you can relate to. Congratulations, you won. Show her what she’s won...

My Letter of Resignation

2009-09-04T22:28:00.000-07:00

My Letter of Resignation

So I sit here,
On the 4th week of the month,
in my 3 piece suit,
tie tied,
shoes laced,
shaved face,
like a damn disgrace.
Im in the bosswomans office,
another regularly scheduled performance review,
The love few and far between,
It would seem that this would be another humbling experience,
Another series of yes’ms and no’ms and please don’t fire me,
But somethings different this time,
Im hearing jaguar wright in my head,
Im thinking and im singing
Shit,
Do you worst,
But make sure its your best,
Coz I can attest,
it’ll be the last time,

So she starts,
Stabs me straight in the heart,
And tell me that Im not meeting my employee expectations,
how unfortunate, says Im being insubordinate,
this is melarchy,
And im like since when was did this company have a hierarchy,
She clarifies that it was more like a matriarchy,
And at the core of the problem,
Was that I wasn’t smiling enough,
I dont come the company picnics,
Or participate in the secret santas,
And that im just not um, "in" to the company,
That the love isn’t there,
I look up at her,
I tell her
I’ve busted my ass to please you,
to appease this company,
to raise 4th quarter profits,
Never did I stop it,
Coz I had the company,
You,
I had us in mind,
All my time,
Late nights and early mornings,
weekends and holidays, usually with no pay,
I mean I gave you an inch and now you want a mile,
And for the record, Im a sprinter, not a long distance runner
But who ever said relationships were work,
was sugarcoating,
coz this medicine has not gone down,
not even with quintessential koolaid cup of sugar,
and I know its work,
but they should have said it was like
Gap Sweat Shop labor,
horrors of a maquiladora,
No bathroom breaks,
90 degree heat,
3 cents an hour,
union busting,
door shutting,
and cutting pay.

coz hey,
every day,
i clock in to commitment
and it feels like Im a 13 year old girl,
in Malaysia,
sewing swooches on sneakers,
just do it.

And its partly my fault,
I know I applied for this job,
Interviewed, dressed up,
played the part,
went through months of probation,
Prolonged the honeymoon period,
And was selected,
but they told me i would be respected,
told me there would be regular benefits,
told me I could work my way up to middle management,
That I would get 2 weeks of vacation each year,
you know they told me alot, when I was hired,
And they were some goddamn liars,
is it too much to ask for a little recognition?
What about a little appreciation?
How come I never get appraisal?
How bout my picture in the frame?
Over the water cooler in the staff lounge,
Why does my month of being the best employee,
Only last 3 weeks and on the 4th,
Like some kind of cycle,
On the 4th,
The floodgates open,
And the feelings
some
how
flow.
Like finally you’ve found all these flaws,
And gauze can’t stop the bleeding from this flesh wound,
coz this time i can't respond right.
I cant Play the good worker,
I need a break,
No not a sick day or a family emergency early release,,
And I know its only Tuesday,
And we just had a 3 day weekend,
but thats not the point,
I just can't take this shit anymore,

And sorry to disappoint you,
But this is it,
Final destination,
Consider this my letter of resignation,
My declaration of emancipation,
Because im done,
Maybe im not,
that one,
Maybe I don’t consider this fun,
maybe my spool is spun,
Ive been underpaid and over worked,
look, Ive been underlaid and over jerked,
And this love, this love, this feeling
That possed to come from above,
This love in the disguise of a one armed hug,
This love,
That you call worker’s comp,
Im not having it,
Coz its not compensatin shit,
Ive been emotionally injured,
And I quit,
Fuck a pink slip,
That’s all she writ,
All that I wrote,
And let me note,
That im not just some immigrant day laborer,
That you can bus in in the morning,
And bus out at nite, and bust upside the head,
When I don’t say “Aye loov chu” right,
I have rights,
And you don’t have me wrapped around your finger that tight
coz i know that despite me trying,
the things i do aren't on your checklist,
And if your checking it twice,
Can you at least wait until Christmas?
Which reminds me,
I always work over time during the holidays
And have I aint' never received a bonus,

i always ask for a raise,
A little more sun in my shade,
Coz its cold outside,
And im lookin for the months of may,
Hey bosswoman,
Though my great-great-grandmother was,
Im no slave.
And why do I have to shave every 3 days for that matter?
What?
my hair is unprofessional,
You say my good days are exceptional,
Get this straight, this employee is incredible,
Read the signs there more than legible,
You know what?
I should come back with some gasoline,
and burn this whole mafuckin place down,

Oh you gonna threaten to write me up,
Oh hell no!
No more documentation,
No more back door humiliation,
Lets make this a public spectacle,
Jerry Maguire style,
So who's coming with me?
who's coming with me?
Im taking people with me,
To the other side,
To a place where we have equal governance in our company,
A co-op if you will,
Where you will have a voice,
And with that a choice to do or do not,
Where we don’t follow a corporation manifesto,
Or MBA’s guide to Organizational Behavior,
We’ll use the oldschool barter system,
No more selling you soul for commercial products of love,
Now you will be able to trade actions for actions,
We will live off the land of love,
Trade goods for goods,
No more revenge and mistrust,
Appreciate each other for our strengths
Bear with ones weaknesses,
No more fairy tale ideals of business,
We will provide service.
Remember you heard this first from me,
Coz when it starts to hurt,
When your relationship starts to feel like work,
Its time to throw in your dress shirt,
Its time to acknowledge your self worth.

And don't think of firing me, coz im quitting,
I don’t even want any silly salary for severance,
Nor would I ever use your ass as a reference.

I slam the door and walk through the office,
On my way out,
I pass a few managers,
And im like,
Fuck you,
Fuck you,
Fuck you,
You’re cool,
And fuck the rest of you,
Im out!

Mr. Truss/Senor Truss 2.0

2009-09-01T21:05:00.000-07:00

I am back in the game, the educational game that is. Took a little break, but I am back. And let me say this. I love teaching. I remember why I became a teacher again. I love education, I love working with students and being apart of their growth, and being a role model. I love learning and being around young people. I love preparing a dope lesson and having it work in more ways than I planned when I teach it. I love coming up with quick interesting and engaging activities on the spot and them working. I love seeing students become scholars, get organized, and realize their potential. I love greeting students and developing a relationship with them. I love having a comfortable, clean, organized, and welcoming classroom. I love teaching.

But it hasn't always been so great. My first year of teaching was so hard. So. Hard. A combination of 3 factors. 1st, I was a new teacher, so its hard no matter what, because you are figuring things out. Trying to balance everything inside of your classroom and survive the first year. 2nd factor, was that it was a new school with relatively an unstructured environment. The school culture was not one of respect, academic rigor, and high expectations. Many of the students had low skills, but also were not bought into the school game, and having a young staff full of people of color did not help. In a nutshell, lots of disrespect, voice raising, and conflict. There was learning and growth, but at my personal expense of time, energy, and sanity. And if that wasn't enough, the 3rd factor was that the school was in threat of being shut down by the district. In addition to balancing my load of being a new teacher, plugging holes around the school, I also helped out "save the school." A very noble deed, however, how I found the time for school site committee meetings, district meetings, marches, planning meetings, and school board meetings, I don't know. It was a lot. Put it all together, after the school was closed, I did not have a problem taking a long break. I learned a lot but I needed a break. The lessons more than prepared me for success and excellence this year.

And that's what this year is all about. Student success, a stress free environment, and overall excellence. I am so happy I found a school where I can flourish as an educator, and motivate students and teach Spanish. It looks to be an excellent year. I might have to keep doing this teaching this. Bonus video below of my classroom on Day 1.

We are Performing with Zion-I Aug 15th Fairfax, CA

2009-08-04T16:02:00.000-07:00

Green Party 2008 Documentary - 3rd Eye Wisdom - Independent Political Action

2008-10-22T23:53:00.001-07:00

A thought provoking documentary created by members of the Green Party, in support of Ralph Nader, Cynthia McKinney, Rosa Clemente and Matt Gonzalez. What is the Green Party? Who are the members? What is Independent Political Action? How is it different from the Democratic and Republican Parties? What next?

Vote Independent and Green in 2008!

www.runcynthiarun.org
www.votenader.com
www.gp.org

Video from Some of All Parts - Run (historical moment) Cynthia McKinney not Barack Obama

2008-08-22T14:24:00.000-07:00

CYNTHIA MCKINNEY GETS THE HIP HOP VOTE, Independent Bay Area group, Some of All Parts, bridges the Green Party message with urban music, through their

2008-08-22T11:34:00.000-07:00

Contact: Joe Truss FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Email: someofall@gmail.com

CYNTHIA MCKINNEY GETS THE HIP HOP VOTE

Independent Bay Area group, Some of All Parts, bridges the Green Party message with urban music, through their debut song “Run”

In this election season, message, media and medium are important. Some of All Parts, an underground Hip Hop group spreads the message of the Green Party through the medium of music. Their new song, “Run (historical moment)” welcomes both youth, and People of Color, particularly from the Hip Hop generation to the Green Party. Presidential nominee, Cynthia McKinney and her counterpart Rosa Clemente, are taking the once white middle class driven party to the masses, and reaching people of color.

With songs like “Run,” the Some of All Parts represents the dissatisfaction with the Democratic Party and that the alternative option is becoming the imperative. In one part of the song “Run,” rapper 5Fifths put its plainly “You can’t blacklist a black sista/with the power of the people and force of a twista/they tried to kick her out/she came right back/America blacked out/she brought the like back.” Some of All Parts is one group that adds to the growing list of endorsements which includes M-1 of dead prez, Professor Grif of Public Enemy, and Rebel Diaz.

Some of All Parts is the first Hip Hop group or artist to both publicly endorse Cynthia McKinney and create a song specifically referencing her. With lines like “You’re the one, run Cynthia run, shinning like a sun, run cythia run, you’re the one, run Cynthia run, the movement has begun, so run, run run,” they will surely add to the growing movement of Green Party politics.

A group that started in sound engineer, Danny Velarde’s basement, SoAP, has grown to include Carlos Bryant, pianist and co-producer, and emcee/rapper Joe Truss, known as 5 Fifths. The group makes both conscious music as well as light hearted and fun music. Look for updates and an extended biography on their website www.myspace.com/thesomeofallparts , and the highly anticipated video for “Run” at www.youtube.com/someofallparts. SoAP stays true to their name, by doing their part in cleaning up hip hop.

# # #

If you would like more information on this topic, or to schedule an interview with Some of All Parts, please contact Joe at someofall@gmail.com

Politics as unUSUAL!

2008-07-16T09:33:00.000-07:00

Person 1: Yo, so who you voting for?
Person 2: voting, are you serious, since when did you start voting?
Person 1: Im voting for Obama.
Person 2: Yeah he's cool, I guess, he's not white, thats different. But he is a democrat and he is about bringing people together, and that usually means, that our issues get left out.
Person 1: True, but at least, he's not a white man.
Person 2: Yeah, thats why Im voting for him. So who u voting for?
Person 1: I got a new idea. Im gonna do something different this time.
Person 2: What do you mean, I know that Democrats and Republicans are not about real change that society needs, especially the poor and oppressed. We don't have anything else.
Person 1: Wrong. We have the third parties.
Person 2: But they don't count.
Person 1: They Demo-crublicans, would love for you to believe that, that why they stay in power, why they don't allows third parties in major presidential debates and give them little TV time. But of course they count. You have 1 vote and it can go anywhere you want.
Person 2: But if the person I vote for looses, my vote doesn't even count.
Person 1: Wrong again. Of course it does. Its recorded and the next time elections happen they look at those numbers, and more people vote. Someone has to start it off.
Person 2: I don't want to be the first.
Person 1: So you are a follower.
Person 2: No, I'm not. Well. But if I vote and my person looses, I shouldn't have voted in the first place.
Person 1: So do you believe that you are voting for things you believe in, or people who you are told that have a "chance."
Person 2: I guess I want to vote for what I want, but I don't want to vote for a loser.
Person 1: Even if this "loser" represent what you believe in and what want?
Person 2: I guess not. Well, how bout this? Third parties don't represent change.
Person 1: The green party.
Person 2: But aren't they responsible for the 2000 loss. I heard it was all Nader's fault that Gore lost and we got Bush.
Person 1: I think it was Gore's fault that he didn't speak to those voters. And once again, should you be voting for a "winnner" or someone who you believe in?
Person 2: Ok, well then. I heard that the green party is a bunch of old white people too.
Person 1: How about this. This year, the green party is nominating a black woman.
Person 2: Like Condaleeza?
Person 1: No, like Cynthia McKinney. A real representer. Sh'es on the Green ticket now.
person 2: How do we know, that she's down for the people?
Person 1: Well, she denounced the war, numerous times, talked about the 911 attacks, and the governments unwillingness to investigate it and deal with it. She also was attacked by the right wing conservatives, which made her lose her seat in the House of Representatives. haven't you seen the documentary, American Blackout?
Person 2: No. But she sounds pretty interesting.
Person 1: And as their vice president, they have Rosa Clemente, a Hip Hop activist from the Bronx, NY.
Person 2: For real? Hip Hop, activism, no War, black woman, latina woman.
Person 1: Yeah.
Person 2: And if I vote, my vote does count.
Person 1: Yeah, and every election, more people will vote Green, or whatever the movement is, it takes time.
Person 2: Well, I think you helped me make up my mind.
Person 1: Obamma not looking too good anymore.
Person 2: I mean not really. When you trip off the fact that you have a choice, I want to make the best choice.
Person 1: Ain't that the truth. I mean what else do we have other than our voting ability.
Person 2: Looks like I got some things to think about.

Cynthia McKinney/Rosa Clemente
green party + black woman + boricua = a step in the right direction
Cynthia McKinney / Rosa Clemente
2008 Green Party Candidates
for President & Vice President

N..... Nigger Nigga N-word .......

2008-07-04T15:54:00.000-07:00

Mr. Nasir Jones, has done it again, he is keepin it real and makin hip hop music, like it is supposed to be. The new album, Nigger, officially called Untitled, is dope! No lie. Great production, great content, great material, typical N-A-S. Check out the new single, hero. So far im feelin N.I.G.G.E.R., America and Testify. We gotta get back to real music. Man, i need to make some more real music, its so easy to get sucked into regular, wack music. But its a good cd, listen to it and think about it.

While im on the subject. If you aren't black or of any kind of african descent, stop using the word Nigga, nigger, or anything. If you people were not slaves in the US and called nigger by white slave masters, you can't use the word. you don't know the word. you don't feel the pain of the word. you don't have access to it. if you are of african descent, please do you research and understand what you are saying, the power it has, the implications it has, the impact of it, the power it takes away from you, and the concept of internalized oppression. If you are gonna use it, don't use it in from of non blacks, because that is why they think the can use it (Hip Hop, Comedy, TV, movies, etc.) of course they were thinking it and saying it behind closed doors, but when they heard that it was ok, and actually "cool" to say it, they why not. There are actually white people, who think its cool. And if you are gonna say it, use it only out of love, and don't use it to break somebody down, to degrade someone, to speak mean to someone, becuase thats when it really creeps up from the days of slavery. Personally, I don't use it, because I have plenty of other words to say, and it serves no use. I think i'll make a song about that.

I am not a nigger, or a nigga. I am a man. An african man at that. I am a man. Period.

Im Back baby

2008-07-03T13:28:00.001-07:00

so it has surely been a while. i have been off my bloggin job, but im back. here are somethings I have been thinking about recently.

Coincident of the Ruling Class:
mccain goes to colombia, hostages are released, right before fourth of july, freedom, the news stations are covering it non stop, while obama has been leading, he went there for free trade, colombia is the US military base in South America, colombia is where alot of the drugs come from,
hmmm... coincedence or not?

Economic Hitman:
John Perkins has a new book, pt 2 of his Confessions of an Economic Hitman, called The Secret History of the American Empire. Its great. It breaks down the effect of the World Bank, IMF, strategic adjustments, assasisanations, and economic policies on the Colonized world. Africa, Asia, Middle East and Latin Ameica. it goes through leaders, who got killed, why, wars, etc. Easy to read and very interesting.

Making Music:
I have been making rap music with my friends for about a year now. Its fun, entertaining, and hard. Damn its hard, easy to do the common cliches and typical stuff. but to switch it up, have content and have style, its hard. so im workin on that. Check out some of my material.

new album

2007-12-05T15:49:00.000-08:00

little house on the moutain

2007-12-05T13:30:00.000-08:00

So how is life like, at the little house on the mountain? Quite different than San Francisco or Oakland. In a nutshell, its a lot slower, quieter, cleaner, calmer and happier.

Animales Lots of Animals, roosters, chickens, donkeys, pigeons, dogs, cats, geckos, mosquitos, spiders, vultures, mules, horses, pigs, etc.

El baño We do have a toilet but it only flushes when the agua comes or by pouring a bucket of water after your business. You can’t flush paper though.

La Ducha If the agua is flowing, extremely cold water comes out of the shower head, so we usually boil agua and bath out of a bucket. You save so much water that way.

La Pila We fill up the open tank since water isn’t always on. We wash clothes with bar detergent, by hand, and scrub on the built in washboard. Why did we ever create washing machines? We also wash dishes here too. All purpose and we conserve tons of water.

Closeline Drying is not 1 dollar per load. Its free, ad the clothes come out nice and crispy from the sun.

Cocina We have a fridge like most of the center of the town but unlike mostly everybody else outside the centro. We have a hot plate and microwave, but most people use an open flame, daily wood, and a grill.

Transportation We walk everywhere. 20 minutes to work, 5 minutes to city hall, 15 minutes to health center. Pulperia across the street. Occassional car ride. Our highly developed and specialized transportation system are old elementary school buses from the states. The lack of shocks and padding make perfect for the lack of paved roads. But its cheap and it works.

Entertainment TV doesn’t addict so much when you only have 9 weak channels. Only a few channels reach the mountains. There are dances for big celebrations and presentation. That’s about it. We also play scrabble, watch movies, play games, and read books. No restaurants to go to but you can order food from a few houses in the center of town.

Communication We have telefonos. It costs about 2 lempiras=10cents per minute to call the US, and cheaper to call locally. Cellphones work too, no plans, just charge and call. No internet in town. I use it about twice per month and it costs about 50 cents per hour.

Escuela There is a kindergarden, an elementary, high school, and a Saturday adult school. All are half day, about 5 hours a day. Students at the high school level specialize in a career/vocation. HS diploma=Bachierato. University diploma=Licensiatura. Graduate Study=Maestria. Most people here get to the Bachierato level, some go to college, but not many.

Tiempo Its usually warm. During the summer, its hot and humid and dusty. During the winter season its rainy, and colder.

Compras There are no major stroes in town. There are pulperias, equivalent to corner stores and convenient stores. You can find candy, snacks, water, some produce, eggs, some clothes, household goods, etc.

Exercise Kids play like they do everywhere. Jacks, jump rope, soccer, etc. Kids play in the park. We workout, jump rope, lift weights, do yoga, etc. Home gym style.

Employment Most people are unemployed and live off money sent home from relatives working in bigger cities or in the states. They mayor gets paid the most but it’s a very bs job. Teachers are pretty stable but the pay isn’t. People have jobs at the city hall, the health center, and there’s a librarian.

Interested in anything else, leave me a comment or email me.

Why I Rhyme!

2007-10-16T11:22:00.000-07:00

Donate Now!

2007-09-19T14:24:00.000-07:00

A few dollars goes along way. A 100 dollars goes even further. But give what you can.

I am serviving 200 high school students, and more elementary and kinder students.
The school is called el Instituto de Simon Bolivar.

A few things I would like to purchase.

A class set of spanish books.
A few class workbooks.
Colorful posters.
Markers and poster paper.
Flash Cards.
Teaching Tools.
Etc.

Hurricane Felix

2007-09-04T15:46:00.000-07:00

so I had to run from my central mountain town, and head to the capital city of tegucigalpa, because of the threat of flash flooding, mudslides, and wet roads. to be honest, its a little scary. i mean im used to earth quakes but hurricanes. shit hommie. i don´t know about all this. i mean i kinda want to leave because im worried, but i just got here and made hella preparations. im not ready to leave, but i might have to. the hurricane has moved down from Category 5 --> to a Category 2/3. it has hit nicaraguar and is headed toward honduras tonite. we are hoping it will slow down and only send rain fall and a little flooding. hopefully the embassy will fly me out of here if it gets bad. stay posted and watch the news.

la llegada de trustintruss

2007-08-31T14:23:00.000-07:00

so im here in honduras now. and its been pretty interesting so far. interesting observations. people stare here much more than the US. just like europeans are running shit in the US, middle easterns, specifically and Turkish and Lebanease are running shit here. in the capital, tegucigalpa, they own everything, and they are the ones in the mall buying shit. they have hella government positions, and are in private english schools. its a trip. im like where are the hondurans at? but the pueblo is nice. small town. everyone greets everyone. kids always come to visit my house. they wanna play with the rubics cube, watch tv and read. they like playing games. i have begun teaching a little english, and im applying to teach full time at the high school. they need a teacher hella bad, so they are on me hella hard to teach. there´s such a need to teach english to elementary, and even in kindergardeners. beans and rice are my friends. ive been addicted to 8 minute abs, pulls ups, and pushups. tryn to get right down here. i guess thats it for now.

new terms
que le vaya bien=good bye, take care of yourself
choquela=give me five
cipote=kid

new song - Can't tell me nothing, feat Kanye and Jeezy

2007-08-19T22:14:00.001-07:00

my first book is in the making!

2007-08-03T15:14:00.000-07:00

Amorous Asylum

How I was emotionally afflicted, admitted, nursed, released, and cured by the confines of love.

An anthology of poetic prose, compiling TrustinTruss' best love poems,
shorts and longs, which gives the reader a glimpse into the concept of love,
from a unique black man's point of view.

Table of Contents

Chapter One - Affliction

I wonder if she knows

On with the show

That One

Chapter - Admission

The record skips

Driver’s Education

Another episode of Love Lane

Baggage

Mr. Fix It

What if?

Chapter Two – Night Nursing

Untitled

I can smell it in the Air

Where have you been?

What’s love like

Balance

No rush

Chapter Three – Rehabilitation

Land Ho!

Floating

The well

Death and my first breath

Chapter Four – Solitary Confinement and Escape

What should I do?

My letter of resignation

Sailing in my solitude

The little things

Look what love grew

Binary stars

Soul mates

Volarémos

Just let it play

Dry Tears

Sour Fruit

Candlelight

Creations under Candlelight

Universal Magnetic

Scents, senses, evanescence and permanence

Chapter Six – The cure

I think of her

Forever

That beat

2007-08-01T22:24:00.000-07:00

What do I wanna be when I grow up? I don’t wanna be a lawyer or a doctor, a policeman or a fireman, of a mothafuckin gangsta, naw, I just wanna be that beat.

That beat that that beat, that that, beat,

I wanna be that beat that bumps and thumps through ventricles and atriums, that natural beat, in melody with breaths, that best of the heart at the start.

That beat that beat beat that,

That beat that sits on the edge of Jimbee drums, that beat the bounces off of buffalo skin, stretched across hollowed out stumps, that rhythmic beat of our roots.

That beat, beat, that beat--- that beat beat, that beat.

That diasporic beat, that Brasileira, that Dominicana, that Haitian, that Ghanaian, that Garifuna, that Afroperuana beat. That rítmo de la people.

That beat beat beat, beat-beat-beat, that 1-2-3, that 1-2-3, that beat,

I wanna be that beat, fuck dancing to it, I wanna be it,

That beat d-de-de, beat, beaaat, beat-deat, deat, beat beat,

That improvisational beat, that blurted from the lips of Nina, Louis, and Sonya Sanchez, (skck, skck, skck) when she read poetry, that skat, skitdittle, skadattle, skit, skat, dot, dot, di, dot.

That beaaat, beaaat, that beaaat, that beaat, beaaat, that beaat,

That beat the boomed from ghettos blasters in the Bronx, in the beginnings of hip hop, that beat powered by big ass D batteries, that beat that turned radios into boom boxes, and rebels into hip hoppers, that beat,

That pth, ppth, pp, pth ppth, pp,

That lip smackin, teeth suckin, beat boxin, beat that fat boys, don’t need no radio, accappela type shit, that soundtrack of the streets beat, that Rhazel, other element of hip hop type beat,

That beat rattlin in the back of buicks and empalas in the barrio, that beat settin yoru car alarm off type beat, that woofer, amp and tweeter, in a 4 door 2 seater, coz its too many speakers back there and I can’t fit nobody

That beat that makes people go stupid on the block. That beat that sends shocks through the cement,

That boom boom boom, b-boom, boom boom, that boom boom boom b-boom, boom boom,

That common intro type shit, that beat vibratin as bass strings are strummed and carved wood resonates

That beat over which I balance my breath until theres nothing left, till the beat breaks free from my boca abierta, and pounds percussion profundamente on your ear drums like Tito Puente, a bridge between my thoughs and your mind, till you start rockin your neck and all the sounds and rhythms super impose themselves, in our collective melody, orchestrated by us for our ancestors and the original beatmakers.

That beat that hommie hear in his head in hustle and flow, that beat that makes u wanna be an emcee, that beat that got everyone out there tryn to produce beats, eating fruity loops like wheaties, matchin rhyme with reason and garage bands, tryn to be the 10th wonder and shit, it’s the same beat,

That beat that descendents of Africa beat on k-12 classroom tables, when the academic fables don’t have enough Africans in them, when the teacher allows them to meet low expectations, and their boredom births some of the illest beats never heard, the channeling of musical spirits, allow them to be so rhythmically talented, but some would just say its noise, but the beat goes on,

That beaty-beat, beaty, beaty-beat, beaty-beat

That sound, beat for tourist and rich locals, beat on turnt over buckets downtown, outside of shopping malls, stores that close their doors to the poor, kids that play the full drums on different sized plastic buckets, a beat that hypnotizes and tantalizes the oppressors, until one realizes it isn’t free and he returns to his shopping spree

That beautiful beat, in the soul clap, that we hear when its time to let our palms slap, simple to us but its hard for them, coz understand we the one that created this rhythm,It makes u sway your body from side to side, coz its that beat that’s the source of our pride, the source of life,

That beat,
beat-beaat,
beat-beaat,
beat-beaat.

long term plans and goals

2007-08-01T21:25:00.000-07:00

I want to...

* travel throughout central america and some of south america
* publish a book of my poetry
* publish another book about love
* travel to ghana, egypt, and ethiopia
* become a chequeleque spanish teacher
* have a commitment ceremony
* purchase a house
* have children
* teach a young male of color manhood class
* become a education consultant
* become a part time graphic designer
* create a black mens rites of passage program
* receive another degree like a MSQ of a phD
* open up a school
* travel to cambodia, india, china, and thailand

I have heard that if you really want something to happen you should write it down. It helps to manifest it and to keep you focused on the goal.
And so, it was written...

Niggers, Niggas & Niggaz

2007-07-05T12:33:00.000-07:00

-Let the circle be Unbroken-

2007-05-16T23:37:00.000-07:00

be Unbroken, let the Circle.

A few days ago, I was asked to read a poem about being a strong black man, and I realized I didn't have a particular piece, nothing but this built up tension and tears to release (exhale) if only these nightmares would seize, images of bright lights billy clubs and police, internal terrorism, daily danger, all this anger to manage that I find myself speaking in Spanish, "hijos de la chingada" soy hijo de los perdidos, ruidos de falling glass.

I picture a pair of pliers, smashing into a mirror, the pieces crashing to the floor, and my reflection flashing before my eyes, crushed memories, a broken home, my childhood, a pile of shattered glass, broken mirrors, be Unbroken, let the Circle. I stand here before you after 3 mirrors and 21 years of bad luck, fuck

Maybe to be a strong black man, u need a strong black man, instead I was passed from hand to hand, alone I walked the desert sands, in search of peaceful places, an oasis where I could stare into supposedly placid pools, like fools I saw my image warped by ripples, oppressive people cast pennies, wishing for their prosperity, creating the severity of my everyday situation, lemme explain the relation

If I am a reflection of my father, a reflection of my past, and my past is a reflection ripped apart, cast of shattered shards of metallic ceramic tiles, then that makes me a broken man, still smoking from the flames that forged me,

My brothers are separated, our families deteriorated, be Unbroken, let the circle, my brothers, 1/3 imprisoned on private plantations, legalized slaves once picked up cotton, then pressed license plates, now make Victoria Secrets lingerie, coffee tables, and answer American express customer service calls, falls of boys that never made it II men

When I was little, I remember my dad throwing a pair of pliers into a full length closet door mirror, this picture I see more clearer than my fondest childhood memories, either he was drunk or mad, either way he was expressing his anger, his frustration, his situation explains it all,

You see greed, fear, arrogance and laziness begat colonialism begat materialism begat capitalism begat classism begat racism begat alcoholism begat his death begat me, so here I stand before you, a product of isms, set up to leave me in shambles,

As I scramble across the floor, my fingers bleed as I search for scraps of self-reflection, as I pick up the pieces and assemble together this jigsaw puzzle of my childhood, I commemorate other shattered memories

I prick my finger on a jagged piece of my mirror, an image a man beat in front of his wife, tied to whipping post, the beginning of dysfunctional families. be Unbroken let the Circle.

I continue to look for pieces to rebuild, I find a shinny piece of glass, a memory of a man cast overboard, thrown off a ship of genocide, I find another man, his penis chopped off, written off as the slave owner's damaged property, compensated by insurance companies, reparations never paid, though many slaves slain.

Reparations never paid, though many slaves slain.

Searching, I puncture my palm on sharp pieces of my past, the lines on my palm run rivers of blood, leaving psychics bloodshot and illiterate, go ahead, trace my life line, streams split from rivers,

My hands quiver as they search the ground for more clues more pieces to the puzzle, what is the bigger picture, for inner strength, I fill in the gaps of my reflection, reconstructing the mirror my father broke, reconstructing my stolen past that I am a reflection of, reconstructing the man that I am. Using other pieces, I assemble my psyche with separated spirits, I call upon Toussaint of Haiti, I call upon my fallen father Floyd Truss, scholars of Timbuktu, Cheops and Chephren of Kemet, Fred, George Jax, names of rebellious slaves I will never know, I keep the memories of my fallen brother, which makes me my brother's keeper,

And I keep these memories, and put them together, so that the pile of mirror pieces now stand tall, puzzle pieces form a complete picture, now when I look into the mirror, I see a broken black man no longer, I now see the strong, African man,

It was thought that the African man has been dead for 400 years and Im tryin to tell you I've been here for 6000 years, 6 centuries, through broken by blackness, though scared and scarred, I am back, I am here, I've stood the test of time, transferred through rhyme, I survived systematic separation, I am a collaborative creation, a mighty Umoja montage, mending a circular collage, connecting me to my father to his fathers,

So…

Let the circle be unbroken

Let the men stand and hold hands, that stretch two times across the oceans in a circle connecting the Diaspora, we retrace the middle passage here and MMG (Marcus Mosiah Garvey), Way back to Africa we create the first transatlantic Black Star bridge, a circle of life, energy passing in, out and through us, connecting us to not HIStory, but our HERitage,

Let the circle be unbroken

Baggage Overhead

2007-05-11T00:23:00.000-07:00

Baggage Overhead

Next in line, please, sure step right up to the counter, welcome to Redemption Airways. Um, I’m sorry but your gonna have to check those bags, and the max is two, the limit on the plane is you, there are far too few seats on this plane and it’s a damn shame, coz wit all that baggage you won’t leave the airport, there is no room for overhead baggage, we will not have you sitting with baggage looming over your head.

I’m brown and named Joe, but this isn’t people court and im not judge Joe brown, so leave your roommate squabbles, your trifling tales, your crazy past lovers, leave that shit at home, get a grapple on your issues of race, gender, and class. Badu said to drop them bags, and she was right, this plane lags on the take off, when it weighed down by people’s problems, by the shit you hold onto, all the drama and trauma. Misuse to issues to tissues, this air bound vehicle will skip you; we don’t have time to deal with bull shit.

Ticket and Passport please, wait, this is not your picture, we will have to confiscate this picture of your ex lover because yall aren’t together anymore, its time to leave the past in it's proper temporal space, this ain’t no helicopter, we can’t just hover, we’re trying to fly, soar like a bird.

Please step to the side, we know you’re not a terrorist, but in this culture of fear, post 9-11, all we need is an excuse to stereotype, because you fit the description of a person who would sacrifice their life and the lives of others due to biter feelings and a lack of healing.

Clear out your pockets, wallets and purse, to the side, brother throw those numbers away, she dumped you, stop stalkin her, sister burn that picture, because he has a wife now, and she doesn’t let him carry a picture of you. Its time to grow up and move forward, time to elevate and in order to do so, u must alleviate.

Please place your suit case on the conveyer belt, we’re gonna have to X-ray it, and pray that we don’t’ have to go digging through your clothes and unmentionables, things you chose not to bring up until we are already boarded, and all of a sudden mention your past, how you parents cast you aside, how you were always picked last for kickball, and your grandmamma forced you to go to Sunday mass. Please ma'm, let us know if there is anything sharp or harmful in your luggage, before we search through it, and who woulda knew it, you had a chance but you blew it, can’t u just let go? He’s not your father and far from your mother and yall we’re not married so stop putting those naive expectations on the relationship. Looks like we’re gonna have to air out your dirty laundry and the bones you’ve brought from your closet, or else we won’t lift off, you won’t pass this security check point with all those insecurities. Alright, now that you’re clear, step through the metal detectors and proceed to gate 4.

Sir, we just have one more check point. Can I see your boarding pass, your permission to elevate, have you purchased your position or have you earned your spot to escape this terrestrial prison. Listen. I need your ID, some from of self identification, not a social construct of race or a label, I need to know who are you, if you don’t know yet, you can’t get on this plane, because how will you interact with anyone else if you don’t know who you are? We’re gonna be flying and we can’t, get up with someone can’t, get out of social constructs and can’t get past, internalized oppression that used to dictate who you should be. If you can’t imagine what you could be, we would never leave the airstrip, you have to believe in the magic, it takes more than pixie dust and incantations, abracadabra and shazaam won’t do it, bob Marley said emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free out mind, its inside out, no chains aloud. You are now free to board the plane.

Ma’m, before we take off you will have to fasten your seat belt, return your tray to its upright position, and put away that photo album, its been 4 years, and its time to move on, here, have some Kleenex, because tears won’t bring him back here, but the tears will rust our gears, and leaves us stuck here on the ground, so I hope you’ve found it in your heart to forgive yourself, its ok, its not your fault, nor every future man’s fault, let it go, exhale like whitney, it helps if you help to sing another song of freedom, coz all I ever had was redemption song, redemption song, redemption song, when u feel free, we will be free to fire up these turbine engines, and accelerate, but to elevate you and we must alleviate the internal illnesses that ail us, that fail to leave our minds, its time to take it to the next level, to move on, so with your cooperation, we will begin ascension, begin to climb and coast to a cruising altitude of freedom. Thank you for flying with Redemption Airways.

(ding)
You are now free to breath.

(ding)
You are now free to exhale.

(ding)
You are now free to smile.

(ding)
You are now free to love yourself and your life.

(ding)
You are now free to move.

(ding)

You are now free.

your hair

2007-05-01T23:03:00.000-07:00

I wanna do your hair,
and not get it done,
but do it how it was meant to be done,
take out the weaves and extensions,
wash out the products and process,
clean off the blonde dye,
I wanna rehydrate your dry scalp,
grease it with shea butter,
pick your fro up,
run my fingers through it,
some say your soul is in your hair,
so i wanna see it,
---------------
I wanna braid your hair,
not in shops,
behind closed doors,
I wanna sit out on the stoop,
on the porch,
my afro is my torch,
to show these fools the light,
the power to scorch any threat in sight.
I wanna let everyone see it,
let them know the way,
not so they can imitate it when they want to feel ethnic,
or when the want to feel down,
but so they can recognize the richness of our culture,
so they respect it,
so they value Africa,
their mother land.
--------------
I wanna be your mirror on the wall,
telling you all you need to hear,
that u're the fairest of them all,
no detail too small,
just call,
i wanna reflect the beauty you emit,
remind you that you of your royalty,
maintain loyalty to your regal image.
----------------------------------
i wanna take you out into the public,
your head high,
heavy,
heir to the throne,
no more sitting at home,
coz you need to get your hair done,
scared that they'll see the new-growth,
your roots peakin,
your soul sneakin,
legacy leakin,
listen,
your spirit is speakin,
its shoutin,
let it grow!
let it show the babies that they can breathe,
that they don't gotta hold it all in,
hold it back,
hold it down,
they ain't gotta let it drown in chemicals,
listen,
your soul is speakin,
Im just the microphone,
its shoutin,
raise it up!
like corn stalks grownin in crop fields,
like giraffes stretchin among acacia trees,
like angela davis' fist fightin to free huey,
free your hair and your body will follow,
If i can pick it i will,
And I don’t want to do nothing to it,
I wanna let it do what it do sistah,
so tell me what it do?
what can i do for you?
how can i help you?
--------------------
I wanna take it back,
back when black was beautiful,
when darks was familiar,
when the black sheep was white,
when the light knew its place
in the house of darkness,
i wanna help you harness the power,
I wanna take it back,

Let’s take it back,

Your hair, lets take it back,

Your beauty , lets take it back,

Your dignity, lets take it back,

Take it back.

Soulful Sonets

2007-04-24T23:50:00.000-07:00

I plan on writing a book, comprised of my poetry, and back stories and reflections about each piece. Here is the introduction:

The serene sea sits still under the soft sunlight. A ripple and a wave. I invite you beneath, to the undercurrent, the push and pull beneath the placid pool. The warm and cool flushes of water. What you see is the top side; everything looks cool, but that’s the only the tip of the iceberg; a breath of the wind, and here Ima let it blow. Here is the story behind the relationship that shaped me, that made me the man I am, the poet I am, the teacher I am, and the person I am. And I was not a shapeless mold of clay before this, but this relationship put my preaching to practice, moved me off my axis, and I wanna tell the story. I want yall to know where I am, and to know that you need to know where Ive been. To what I love, you need to know what I loved, the who, what and where, and most importantly the how. You need to know the depth of this ocean of emotion, but also the under toe that could pull u out to the middle of the sea. It like someone told me, my story is like a fine tapestry, intricate, beautiful and functional on one side, but the stitching is another story, the messy mesh of string on the backside, the knots, overs and unders. This is the other side of the rug, the underside, a glimpse in the mind of man madly in love, sadly out of love, and all the in betweens that can be articulated in poetry and prose. So here it goes…

bet on black

2007-03-30T00:51:00.000-07:00

(roll and snap)
(roll and snap)

like die cast against the side of a project building,
our youth gamble with their lives,
thinking they are winning,
but the house always rules,

and you always role snake eyes with their dice,
especially when u're a field hand,
only recently hired to work in the burning house,
never allowed to eat at the table,
don't get it twisted field nigga,
its bigga than blocks and glocks,

im talking defense and prison stocks
the rich bet on black and red,
gamble with bodies and our bloodshed,
all our hustle is a mere blue chip in a stack,
moved by descendants of slave masters,
we aren't gambling.
we are the wagers.
teenagers are cashed in for casino credit,
zoom out,
the wheel of roulette is spun,
zoom in,
the same time a revolver is spun,
(roll and snap)
the same time a dice game is "won"
(roll and snap)
as a die is cast along a green felt table,
we die in the same caste we are born into,
the caste of criminals and consumers.

but don’t worry,

it is only through our awareness of this game,
(roll and snap)
and our training in how to play it,
(roll and snap)
that we learn how to play the role,
and,
snap back into reality.

it is only through our playing of this game,
through betting on black,
and not on bloodshed,
that we learn not to try to win the game,
but instead to destroy the game,
so that our children do now have to,

(roll and snap)

yes, forever.

2007-03-25T01:45:00.000-07:00

"I want to be with you...for..."

it only take seconds to say,
two syllabus strung together,
only a few vowels and consonants,
a word as long as earth's horizon,
more than a mouthful,

"...for...

For how long?
Just for tonight?
Just for the spring break?
As long as there's summer sun?
For how much time?
As long as I'm in the area?
Until I go away for college?
Long enough to learn about life?
Until when?
Until the money runs out?
Long enough to fall in love?
Long enough to fall out of love?

For how long?
How long is forever?
forever is eternal,
like the cycle of water,
condensing and vaporizing,
raining, evaporating,
like the transfer of air,
that I inhale and exhale,

"I want to be with you...for..."

forever?
its about as long as we have,
in this physical form,
from which i contemplate forever,
its about as much i can conceptualize,
as much as i can capture,
within the wrinkles of my brain,
within the concrete walls of my existence,
within the time line of my lifetime's expectancy,
I can't see into the future,
So don't ask me about the future,
nor can see forever steps ahead of me,
so you see,
that i can't see forever,
so i can't say forever,
I said,
i can't see forever,
so i can't say forever,

but if forever is as much as I can comprehend,
then I can comprehend forever with you,
if forever makes u comfortable creating a future with me,
then I can say forever,

if forever is only as much time,
as I have in this life of mine,
then I wouldn’t want to reach forever without you,
if forever is only a expression,
then I'm expressing forever,
from physical metaphors for metaphysical forms.

I will say forever if you will walk with me forever,
towards forever,
If I don’t have to face forever alone,
I don’t care if I can see forever
I don't care if I can't comprehend forever,
coz, to be honest, I can’t comprehend a forever without u,
So therefore I can only comprehend it with you,
So I can now say forever,

It was only the ambiguous absurdity of forever,
That forced me to place it alongside its opposite,
never,
And its these two extremes that scare me,
And I understand that it is easy to pick either side,
Easy to hide and go with never,
Easier to lie and say forever,
But it’s the difficult journey,
The quest toward ensuring forever,
It’s the intangible space between that scares me,
It’s the commitment to forever that scares me,

But I now understand what I am headed towrads,
what I am working towards,
what I am working for,
Us.
And I am more frightened of a forever without u,
than of the concept of forever,
So I am committed,
to working,
to moving,
Toward the future,
Toward us,

“…forever…”

3.3 miles in 30 minutes

2007-03-24T21:10:00.000-07:00

I reached my first goal of getting in shape. I started running the lake more consistently and started timing myself, during my no sugar stage. The first time I timed myself, I took around 37 minutes, and i was hella walking and hella tired.

The next time I timed myself, I did 3.3 miles in 33 minutes, which is around 10 minutes a mile.

Recently I ran the mile with my students and timed my 1 mile time, and I did it in 8 minutes flat.

Today I ran (and walked a little, after 15mins, after 4 more minutes, after 4 more minutes, then after 3 minutes, and after 2 more minutes) Well all together, I walked for about 5 minutes, and I finished in 30 minutes! Thats 3.3 miles, which puts me right above 9.1min/mile. I was happy with that achievement.

My next goal, 3.3 miles in 27 minutes, which would put me at 8.2 min/mile.

I also got a shuffle, so i'll be running with rhythm :)

ballin!

2007-03-19T22:45:00.000-07:00

Man tonite was off the hook. well i play hoops on mondays and fridays, and tonite we and i were ballin. we won 6 games straight, and thats a lot of games. one game we played, i scored 8 points (3 3 pointers and 2 one pointers) out of 11. i don't think i ever had that many points in a game. it was off the hook! i was busted from behind the arc. and i was driving, and getting hella fast break points. i was tired, but not nearly as tired as i usually be. my game is really changing. its all about being in shape, confident, conditioned, and working on skills. It is the funnest way to get in shape too, running is cool in a group or with a partner, but hoops are the funnest thing in the world.

the evolution:
tenderloin rec center
i remember playin basketball, in the small courtyard of the tenderloin park and recreation center. at that time it was in the basement of st. bonifice church, and we were shooting a ball into a berkeley farms black milk crate tied to the top of a railing. round ball in a square crate, but it worked and it was fun.

middle school.
i remember playing in the courtyard, when i was younger. i remember the asian students callin it n---- ball, how ignorant. as if to say that black people can't follow rules. well i didn't think i was good enough to play on the main courts. i also remember wanting to play on the francisco middle school rams team. but i was so self conscious about my size and weight, that i was too scared to try out. i thought people would laugh at me, so i didn't

high school.
9th grade. all of a sudden i really got into basketball. i played like everyday at lunch by the bungalos. we would always come to our class after lunch all sweaty, and people would be like, "damn yall are nasty." we were proud of our sweat, we loved hoops. we used to always play knock out (2 balls, people are in a line. first person shoots, second shoots and tries to make a shot before the person before, if you do, they get knocked out). i don't remember if i decided to try out for the squad, or if someone said i should, but i did. it was so hard, hardest thing i ever tried. i think we had to run to, that was way too hard. i didn't make it, i think i came close. everyone was so good, because they had all played in middle school. but i decided to practice all the time, working on the drills, that we did during try outs. i was destined to make the team next year.
10th grade. i made the team! and it was so hard. practice, conditioning. i was not the best player. i was on the bench alot, most of the time. i was sad, but i understood that i was not that good. i remember when i got in, i was so nervous, and scared that i would make a mistake, and alot of times i did. it was hard, lots of pressure. it wasn't a natural thing for me, i had to work at it. but i made it through the year, and i got better. in the off season, we played for the tenderloin YMCA league, with coach mark pearlman, and the guys from the private schools, they had great fundamentals, i learned alot then, how to shoot, drills, just good technique. i think that summer we started playing alot too, at sunset, glen park, hamilton, and in the marina too.
11th grade. i tried out, this time for varsity. that was some hard shit! people were so much better, and it seemed like it was just so natural for them. i was trying, but so slow. i didn't make it. once again, i decided to work at it all year, because i was determined to make it my senior year. i practiced all year, played on the Y league again, and got better.
12th grade. i tried out and made it! i think barely. maybe because i was big and tall. what ever, i was on the team, varsity, we had those nice jerseys and we had warms ups too, with my name on it. we sold chocoloate, to raise money for our shoes. i loved those shoes. it was so hard. so many plays to remember, i could never get those plays down. coach hardly ever put me in, but i was on the bench with the other warmers, and we cheered the team on, and had fun too. i used to say i was a warmup jersey model, so people could see during the game while the starters were playing. lol. i remember one time i got put in, and my shorts were on backwards! i was so embarrassed. lol. so funny though. so from then on, i always put my shorts on backwards for good luck. one time i got put in, and i dribbled the ball to the wrong basket! so embarrassing, i was so nervous and scared. lol. lucky there, wasn't that many people there to see. lol. i used to always miss so close to the basket, i hadn't learned to use the backboard yet. those damn plays. but it was fun. i loved it. i told myself i was there to get the 1st ad 2nd string players ready for the games. i never really had a shot or had much control in high school.

college:
i played at the rsf alot, sometimes more than others, but i feel off. sometimes i was on the A court, and when i had been gone for a while, i went to the B court. there was times when i thought i was gettin good, but there was so much talent in college, lots of people who played ball in HS and wanted to be on the college team. but i had fun. i remember when i was down in LA for a summer, i was ballin like 3 or 4 times a week, that was fun. i think it was during college, when i first passed the ball to someone cutting to the basket, that was a great feeling, because in high school, it was so hard to see that, the game was so fast to me, but it starting slowing down.

post college:
i took some time off, played at the berkeley Y, rosa parks, the park by 65th stret, but then i took a break because i started developing slight tendinitis in my right knee, and i didn't want it to get worse so i layed off it and did some swimming when i got to tufts. i played more out there in boston, and started getting back. when i got back to Oakland, i started playing again. this when it started gettin good. my endurance was building up and my skills gettin honed. i think i first starting driving to the basket during this period. and starting making layups with my left hand. and my shot is finally starting to get consistent and reliable. its all about being lighter, stronger and being in better shape.

well see how much better i get and where the ball take me...

friends, how many of us have them?

2007-03-18T19:58:00.000-07:00

and how many of them do us have?

Who gets to be in this elite group of the many people we know? I have always been hesitant to make people my friends, and its always been hard for me to maintain friendships. but through the years, i have maintained a few. i recently checked in with two of my close friends from high school, and it just goes to show that bonds can be broken or grow weak. they remain and retain the strength.

Its nice to have people who have seen you grow, who you have seen change and grow. you think that you grow apart, but its the true friendships that don't fade. people fall off and get back on. people have their differences but in the end its all the same. everyone has their path, at their pace, and on their own terms, its just about checking in and keeping up with each other.

we will always have lowell, the hoop team, sunset and glen park gym pick up games, NAS, DMX, cash money, eminem, the wakeup show, bad boy, stonestown, junior and senior prom, the river in Sacramento, our trip to Hawaii, movies at the kabuki, amc 1000 and the metreon, bowling at serra bowl, golden eye and madden on N64, chillin at evans house, eating juans house, eating candy and chicken at my moms house, playing on the piano at los's house, hanging out at monica's moms house, fighting over the mixed women in high school, bonfires with underclassmen, being part of the broken finger gang, speeding down from the pacific heights, shopping at seramonte, buying the same clothes, white kwiss, khakis, jeans, white t under a plaid shirt, and a wind breakers, being united in our multicultural upbringing, just being brothers for each other.

president of the fitness club

2007-03-15T00:15:00.000-07:00

yeah i elected myself. i ran unopposed, and i won. so what did the Pres do today?

nutrition

breakfast: water, 2 waffles, fake butter spread and fruit spread
lunch: watter, hummus, crackers, apple, 2 oranges, and some almonds
snack: 100% grape juice, banana, chips, carrots, and veggie sandwich
dinner: juice, water, strawberries, salmon, brown rice, and carrots, and dried pineapples
and multivitamin, (maybe im snackin to much...)

activity

walked the lake, 3.3 miles, about 50 minutes
side crunches, 30 each
bicycle kicks, 15 each
push ups, 15 regular, 15 rotated

not much but a good days work,
gotta keep my poll percentage up.
is hard work to be the president.

im skipping belt loops! menos nuevo libras!

2007-03-12T22:40:00.000-07:00

So, its been a month since Ive been free from the sugar blues, and a month since i have more conscious of my weight, started on April 12th, and its march 12th. 4 whole weeks, no candy, ice cream, juice, honey, sweet cereal, even bread, ketchup, sweet sauces, chocolates, cakes, cookies, pastries, pancakes, jelly, etc etc, oh yeah, and no ice cream. and what do i have to show for it?

better mood
more energy
better chi (if i was sure how to measure it)
clearer mind
clothes fit looser
belts tighter
more toned muscles

I lost 9 pounds so far! The easiest pounds I ever lost. Didn't have to trip off working out every day, or running hella much (although i have been playin ball 2 times a week, walkin the lake1-2 times per week, and one misc activity). I just changed my eating habits. My goal is another 12 pounds. At least by may, if not before. Im confident. Just takes discipline, focus, and commitment. And I have that. Wish me luck! Here I come health!

I heard that if you cut the refined sugar and refined flour (crackers, white bread, pasta from white flour) you will loose a pound a week, quick.

Count Downs

2007-03-06T21:51:00.000-08:00

Time is flying by! I can't believe it. but it is. its all about how i spend the time, what i cover, what lesson i teach them, what habits i set, and what impression they have of Spanish.

14 weeks of teaching left

i will have completed my first year of teaching, (survived)

such an interesting time frame because it could be the last 14 weeks

5 weeks until my trip to Honduras

can't wait! really i can't wait!
a nice break, a flame rekindled

3 weeks of no sugar diet so far

no ice cream, candy, cookies, cake, pastries, jelly, cereal, sugar, juices (other than apple)

a saturday spent well

2007-03-04T01:29:00.000-08:00

woke up today to light jazz,
stretched up a morning yawning,
talked to my long distance lover,
from honduras in the hondutel on the telephone,
lemps well spent on our conversation,
my day was bright before i noticed the sun,
a hash brown and salsa for breakfast,
ran errands under the blue sky,
shipped a present air mail to tegucigalpa,
a little entertainment and sippin pleasure,
for my marvelous mountain woman,
more errands and a trip to farmers market,
sugarless granola and health tips from a vendor,
flatbread and hummus from an afghan man,
southern vegan wholefoods for my soul,
legs sore from the 8 mile march,
ending black history month moving for education,
1 of 300 chanting for 2 hours and 8 miles,
waiting 5 hours for disappointment,
but freedom is not a final score,
definitely granted by a board decision,
not through a state mandate,
nor even through a proclamation,
freedom is in the mind of the free,
freedom is the act of applying ones freedom,
freedom is in the act of maintaining freedom,
realizing that it was all in the process,
meeting and planning,
flyers copied and handed,
sign making and phone banking,
the success was in the preparation,
perfect practice makes perfect,
but still im worn out,
my legs are tired,
my calves tight,
my feet are tough,
my soles stronger,
so i walk to keep conditioned,
a little stroll around the lake,
wearing W.E.B. Dubois across my chest,
sporting a African scholar like a shield,
freedom is a journey not a destination,
so i walk to keep conditioned,
i fight to keep ferocious,

i study to stay sharp,

i struggle to find the beauty,
I find beauty in the struggle,
sun rays bounced off of water beautifully,
and i struggle so i can have progress.

health, what else do we have?

2007-02-21T00:04:00.000-08:00

throughout this sugar experiment, (im finishing day day 9 if you are counting), i have thought alot about my health, body, and how i need to be taking care of myself. I have been flossing everyday, doing situps and pushups (maybe this will aid in my slimming down), and learning about food options. brown rice so much better than white rice. whole grains so much better than grinded or processed grain. whole wheat bread so much better than white bread. i also have not been eating as much late a night, and thinking more about eating smaller portions, and not eating until i am full, but until i am not hungry anymore. so i am happy. i think 25 is a good age, to start getting it together health wise, sugars, salts, exercise, maybe meats and cheeses too (don't get too excited vegans) oh yeah i started off, just no sugar on the weekdays, but now im trying to do it for 2 months, and see how it goes, maybe the whole year.

no sugar day 6 (check)

2007-02-17T17:06:00.000-08:00

so its been about six days without sugar, i don't feel crazy or withdrawn, but i do think about sugar. do you know how hard it is to find foods that don't have sugar? i do. its freakin hard! i mean i went to get a snack at the gas station and i couldn't get nothing. no chips, pretzels, energy bars, muffins, drinks, everything. corn nuts, peanuts, even sun chips. i couldn't snack on anything. so i found some premium cashews. good enough. it has been hard. no late night juice or ice cream, no cookies and cakes. no candy.

then i was like let me go to trader joes and get some food that i can eat. i couldn't find on cereal in the whole store, that didn't have sugar, evaporated cane juice, or honey in it. crazy. i don't have cereal now. then i couldn't find any break that didn't have sugar, brown sugar or honey in it. ridiculous. i found some sour though luckily. then i couldn't find lunch meat that didn't have sugar or honey in it. ludicrous!

so what can i eat?

breakfast

oatmeal, raisins, and cinnamon,
peanut butter on toast
toast with fruit spread or butter and fruit
fruit and plain yogurt
apple sauce and toast

lunch

cheese sandwitch on sourdough bread with humus and lettuce
fruit and nuts, cashews or peanuts
leftovers from dinner before

dinner

fish, tofu, tempe, shrimp with sauces
rice, pasta,
tomato sauce without sugar
vegetables
curries, stews, and soups

snacks and treats

chips and salsa
crackers and hummus
fruit and nuts
apple juice and cranberry juice
apple sauce

i started off thinking just about not eating during the week, but i have figured out so many reasons why i should just cut the sugar out for good, or at least until i can figure out how much i need it, and how easily i can live without it.

i am many pounds overweight and for no reason
there is too much sugar in my foods that i don't notice
i am addicted to it and eat it when im not hungry
i need to pay better attention to what i am ingesting
i need to stay away from processed foods anyway
i want to live a long life and not get sick, cancer, diabetes, or other ailments
im getting older and it will soon be too hard to keep the pounds off

so lets see how this keeps going...

jilly from philly

2007-02-15T00:05:00.000-08:00

late at night

2007-02-13T00:03:00.000-08:00

i think of her,

deeply,
with jill scott playing,
softly,
candlelight casting shadows,
and shining warm spotlights,
on her titled framed picture.

i think of her,
deeply,
nag champa burning,
slowly,
steam rising from my mug,
delicately
chamomile tea steepin,
midnight steady creepin,
and light seepin into my soul.

i think of her at night, because its the only time when im free from distraction. when i can sit peacefully and listen to my mind speak. its the nights that are the hardest, when i want her to be here next to me, waiting for me in bed, falling asleep before me, so i can join her, spoon and and fall asleep in her fragrant curly hair. but since i don't have her, i am left to my tea and incense and music and candlelight shadows. i am left to my imagination and my memories.

no sugar? yes no sugar.

2007-02-10T23:40:00.000-08:00

so im thinking about cutting out or seriously cutting the sugar in my diet. which is alot for me, a man who loves sugar. i mean i grew up eating it (i mean who didn't, at least in this country) and i love it. ice cream, candy, pastries, backed goods, juice, everything sweet! heres some reasons to cut sugar out.

it was being produced with tobacco in plantations, maybe due to the power of it, due to its addictive nature, due to its destructive power.
it affects your mood, looking forward to it, feeling better with it
it affects your health, short term weight and fat, long term diabetes, cancer, asthma, etc.
its in everything we eat, even things that aren't supposed to be sweet like soup, why?
shit its always on my mind, like it has a power over me
i can feel it seeping through my blood when i eat it, like its some kinda drug
it makes kids crazy, hyper and they get crazy before they get it, like some drug addicts
it can destory the strongest part of our body, our teeth, the toughest thing we have
its density categorizes it as a poison

i was talkin to a friend of a friend, and she told me she gave up sugar, shes done it before, and shes seen the affects it has on her mood, body and life. apparently theres this book (that i just ordered and plan to read now) called "Sugar Blues," about the poisoning affects of sugar consumption, and how it leads to so many health deficiencies, diseases, a broken down immune system and other ailments. also just think about depression and self esteem. this is some ill shit, because we are so sick in this country and we really don't know the causes of it. Maybe one of them is sugar. Some researchers have linked sugar to cancer. how bout that. and think about it its not a natural thing. i mean other that some places that eat sugar cane, chewing on it, not distilling it, by the way, its not natural to have it. i dunno, maybe its here to keep us happy in this capitalistic society, in this work and product driven society. its a trip, to think how much of my life has revolved around sugar and sweets. what i buy. what i want. before bed snack, my love of juice. my fond memories of going to the candy store to buy those penny sugar straws (i remember buying the box once, 100 of them, and eating them, just pure sugar) and now, ice cream, cookies, juice, and candy. i love candy! i am a fuctional addict. just because its everywhere and legal, does not make it a drug. it affects mood, diet, body, and health. thats a drug. and it ill affects us.
well ima try to cut it. i would love to pull a 360 and cut it all out, but ima start small. No sugar on the weekdays, then only on the weekends. like a reward (damn, this is almost just as bad, im rewarding myself, with the thing im trying to stay away from, well its a start) then maybe one day i can cut it all out, or decrease it somehow. i really want to see what happens, am i gonna start freakin out, get withdrawal. i mean i read that this person lost like 25 pounds after 3 months of not eating sugar. it could be the one thing that keeps me in the overweight state im in. well ima try it and maybe i'll have some reflections and insight into the situation. things i can still eat.

fruit
juice thats made from 100% fruit
soy milk with no added sugar
mints, or minty gum

things i won't eat during the week

ice cream
juices with sugar
sweet cereal or oatmeal
candy
cookies and treats

this is gonna be a challenge but a learning e

cyberESAPCIO or farmerJOE

2007-02-08T22:44:00.000-08:00

so heres my new idea for next year. I move to Honduras and open an internet cafe. It could be my business while I relax, read, write, plant crops, etc. So it costs like 40 dollars a month for satellite internet. All i need is the materials, computers, cables, a router or two, and I could set up an internet cafe, so the town could get online. I could be the tech guy, who connects them to the information superhighway. thats my thing. but would i just be moving them one step closer to assimilation and colonization, and their further infatuation with all thins material. Would be just creating more consumers, and facilitating the erasure of their culture. Would that really benefit them? Or should I be there planting crops and learning about nature? Maybe I should be letting go of all this bs, technology, music videos, hollywood, etc, and just enjoy the basics of life. not even call it basics, but life in its purest form. that make me reluctant about teaching the students about computer literacy and stuff. i mean do they really need that shit? I guess if they want to move to the city, and succeed in the business world, then yes, but should i be another savior, another american missionary, another conquistador of their land, culture and history. Hell no. Then maybe i will just go down there and kick it and relax and write and read, and dance and reap and sow, and meet and greet and talk, and love and love and love, and reflect and plan out the next stage of my life and love too.

3 book/literary project ideas

2007-02-06T23:11:00.000-08:00

A black man's love.

Well. I write alot of poetry and alot of it is about love. and I think its time to start tying together the loose ends, or pressing the pages together. Well im thinking of putting all my poetry together, and with each poem or group of poems, i will have the prose and reflections along with it. like the story and explanation behind the poetry. also since some lead to others. and i was thinking of making it an evolution of my perspectives on love, like from infatuation, game playing, friendships to relationships, relationships to commitment, break up to make up and all the in between. I guess i need some kinds of overarching theme or thread between the pieces. I could call it, poetic prose, anyone did that yet? or how bout this, reading between the lines of love.
Carcinogenic: the story of a Malignant Man

The story/play/movie begins, with him stepping in to his prison cell, after being convicted of a serious crime. he flashes back to being locked in his special ed room during lunch, because he was poisoning the yard with his attitude. he returns to his cell. he is locked up like the cancerous creature he has been conditioned to believe he is, but learns that his condition is only the manifestation of his years of conditioning, the effect of years of internalized oppression, and second class treatment in society. He learns that his upbringing has \all been a scripted plan to put him in his prison cell, "quarantined with the rest of the quarrelers". Through a serious of important flashbacks in his life, he begins to put the pieces together, and see the picture he is a part of. He sees these isolated incidents (special ed classes, discipline problems, criminal record, troubled relationships, and blatant racism) as a carefully crafted plan that plagued him and plagues his people. He befriends an educated brother, (to be modeled after Mumia Abu Jamal), who schools him, turns him onto his own reading, and facilitates his reflection of his situation. He begins to purify his mind through meditation and MAAT, and starts to see clear. He corresponds with his brother on the outside, through letters and phone calls. His brother, though on the outside, is sick and tired of his job and attempts at keeping up with the Jones'. He chose the high life, "cultured" proper, educated, and well spoken. He understands that this oppression has afflicted his brother just as significantly, even though he has benefited from it monetarily and socially. Psychically he is dying. In the same vein that our main character feels that he has been a cancerous cell in the body of America, his brother develops cancer. His metaphoric "sickness" has progressed into a physical sickness. After feeling like his life is falling apart, our main character starts to understand his placement in society as well as his brother's. Rather than seeing it as a biological problem, he see that it is the American infectious ideology that has invaded his brother and manifested cancer in him. Though reflection on his situation, reading of great literature, profound philosophers, African thinkers, and revolutionary books, it starts making sense to him. he begins to see his power. he returns to believing that he is a cancer. that he is in the red white and blue body. an ulcer in the belly of the beast. far more than benign. but that it is the cancer that needs to win out. that the body must die. that society must perish for his survival. for the survival of all those formerly referred to as, foreign agents. he see his true power and his true calling. His letter writing with young troublemakers on the outside grows into mentoring. Upon release he plans to do what every cancerous cell should do. Spread. Multiply. Grow. Win.
Love filtered through lenses

Heres the concept. I have had this ongoing, offgoing, ongoing relationship with the love of my life. And i have written countless poems about her, letters to her, emails to her, AIM conversations, notes about her, journal entries about her. She has also did the same. And we have seen our relationship through different lens. Sometimes this lens has been superimposed showing a similar picture, but at times it has been focused on different portions, and at times it has been not focused on our love. so it is this different views of love that i want to illustrate, at the same time giving the reader a glimpse into love from different perspectives, two sides of the same coin if you will. And yes there are self help books, but not a book from two perspectives. I want to include our writing, (maybe when we are older and not too shy about revealing our private life) and maybe some kind of interview, like "what did you mean when you said that? why did you say that? did you really feel that way?" perhaps this would go best in an epilogue so it doesn't disrupt the flow. don't know, like a co-authored book, by me and my love about our love. or it could be a narrative, using the writing as inspiration, then cut back and forth to see scenes from two perspectives.

hiking hella high in the hills hommie

2007-02-04T23:43:00.000-08:00

so i went on a hike this weekend, in the oakland hills, off of 35 avenue of the 580 highway. a big little park tucked away from the poor folks in the flatlands. but it was amazing! i mean amazing. huge. miles of trails. we went on a hike for about 2 hours, up and up and away from the city. it was so quiet up there. and we were so high. no mountain lions, lots of birds, didn't see any deer either. but lots of white folks. most said hi, some kinda looked down, its ok, i felt like i was breaking stereotypes by being up there and not acting a fool like they might assume i would. lots of bikers too, i would like to jog up there. it was tiring. but so fun. i think theres lots more up there and views too, but we just hiked and hiked. i think theres a little stream or river, probably a waterfall somewhere. i was doing some research, and theres so much in the bay, regional parks, preserves, old things to look at. some interesting shit, mines and missile bases, parks and recreation. i need to get out more, maybe a trip every 2 weeks at least. should take some students, get them out and seeing some new stuff. well i was thinking of leaving the country, but there are a few more reasons to stay, see th

the universal magnetic

2007-01-30T21:16:00.000-08:00

The television hummed in the background of my heartbeat. We were there to watch TV, but truth be told we could care less what we were watching. "Ahahah," I softly chuckled, trying to pretend that I was following the plot. She stretched her arm, and I caught its shadow in the corner of my eye. I figured she pressed the mute button, because I totally missed the actors last line. She had a magnetism about her, as she lay across from me. We were no where near in contact, yet it felt like we were side by side. I lay, legs crossed, attempting to look composed, by my tapping foot revealed the condition of my nerves. The were on pins and needles, although my body lay across the sofa, my energy was positioned on the edge of my seat. Her body gingerly sank into the cushions of the couch. Although we both watched TV, my attention was on nothing but her. I could not remember the plot of the sitcom, but i could remember the look she gave me 2 hours ago, as she walked into my door. It was a look of desire. Whatever was on at the time, was insignificant to the breaking stories broadcast by her body. She lay there body turned away enough and head turned toward me enough to keep my interest. We caught eyes every now and then, awkward yet engaging. Her eyebrow arched, as if asking me if I had said anything. If she could hear the whispers below my breath, she would hear me inviting her to stay the night. Did she? Is that why she smiled when she looked at me? Her energy was clearly and carefuly cast like commercials, handcrafted for an audience of one. She transmited her femininity like late night infomercials; bells, whistles and all. I could smell the perfume strategically sprayed along the inside of her neck. Was it vanilla or melon, or just the scent of her sensuality? I closed my eyes, and I could feel myself floating closer to her, hovering over her, kissing her lips. I could see her bright eyes and dark eyelashes. I opened my eyes to find that it was not my body, but my aura that moved and mingled with hers. My spirit pulled closer to her. Either she was breathing harder or I was listening more closely, because, my head swayed with her every inhale and exhale. I swear I could feel her warm breath caress my cheek. She shifted her weight and I responded by getting more comfortable. I tried to ignore her, but I was nothing more than the blades of grass to her summer wind; the ripples in water to her ocean breeze. I was the earth in orbit around her sun.

scents, senses, evanescence and permanence

2007-01-28T23:38:00.000-08:00

candles light my way,
flames lead my eyes,
to my body's surprise.

sweet scents arouse my senses
the smell beacons me,
aromas surround me.

the steam lifts and rises,
evanescent and everlasting,
the air thickens as i approach.

soft music catches my ear,
relaxes my mind,
find rhythm with my pulse.

i stand by,
just to admire it
take it all,
my senses turned on,
let it take me all in.
the scent, smell, sound, and taste.

i undress.

remove coat and shoes,
unbutton shirt,
unzip khakis,
roll down dress socks,
slowly slide boxers.

the steam my only clothes.

i run my fingers through my afro,
eyes closed,
massage my scalp.

one more sense left.
touch.

so i touch.

...to be continued...

the democrats (same shit different day?)

2007-01-24T21:58:00.000-08:00

well, election seasons are coming up and we have some interesting developments. republicans suck and the past several years, including clinton's administration sucked. but people are talkin some shit, on the come up and talkin bout some changes. black man? white woman? well not the most favorite of combinations, (it did create me, and thats worth something right). well we got some forerunners in the democratic camp. white woman, yes woman. black man, yes black. i did say i don't want to vote for white men any more, and this situation may make me eat my words. I was all about the green party, but i just might temporarily support the dems for such a historical electoral moment. obama has done some stuff i have heard, in the south side of chicago, yeah the tough part, and clinton i guess she was married to bill and that makes her something special. i guess. he did have the crack epidemic and numerous other things. but its much different that kerry and edwards, the good ole boys, from the skull and bones, wolfs in sheep clothing. i just might roll with the dems. just might, unless a black man and woman run for the green party. we will have to see.

1/2 way done

2007-01-21T23:47:00.000-08:00

can't believe it yall, reached the half way point. i have been a real teacher for half a year, a full semester. in the begining, i couldn't imagine being at this point. it was so hard in the begining, so stressful and challenging, wait it will is! lol. but it has gotten a lil easier, a lil easier to deal with the drama. and boy has there been drama. let me give yall a recap, if you haven't been keepin score:

1 unsuccessful concert
1 removed principal
1 reassigned humanities teacher
1 office manager let go
school under fire
meetings upon meetings upon meeting
attendance issues
drug issues
discipline issues
minimal fights
front page story in the tribune
3 different principals since the siege
retreats and planning
crazy classes and challenging students
no coach or mentor

but i guess i have made it this far, i am almost out of debt, even though i owe all kinds of money to the irs, who keeps popin up, but i am still a teacher, lookin abroad, hopin there is a school to return to. i have survived, and plan on surviving, its time to set some new goals, implement some new policies, and start anew.

updates

2006-12-19T22:21:00.000-08:00

haven't written in a while,
guess not much on my mind,
almost done with the year 2005,
as far as teaching goes,
a few more days and im on break,
and big chillin,
big chillin exactly, its been cold recently,
ice on my car winsheild in the morning,
i wore a scarf at work today,
not as stressed as i was a few weeks ago,
im startin to make peace with my students,
and call a cease fire in the war,
some students comin up,
some fallin down,
feelin better about teaching,
but u never know what u're gonna get,
i did recently get a box of chocolates,
thats nice,
just got a new internal harddrive,
500 gigs baby,
and im tryn to fill it up,
by any means neccesary,
reading this book called cunt,
sounds worse thant it is,
its about femenism in the US,
really good,
the new mos def is gonna be hot,
or should i say is hot,
not out yet, but trust me, it is,
the nas is cool too,
feel like writing a poem,
but nothing to write about,
maybe during the break,
can't wait...

twenty-five

2006-12-12T21:52:00.000-08:00

25 years and counting.
never thought i would be reflecting on my life at 25, but here I am, listening to Meshell Ndegello (i guess that indicated reflection) and what can I say. I am fairly happy with my life. Its a hard life, not harder than most lives, and not as menial or boring as most so i am happy for that. I survived the inner city and many obstacles, and traps set up to kill me and enslave me. I made it out of the ghetto and made it to college. I have earned 2 degrees and have a solid skill under my belt, something to rely on. I have moved my mom out of the ghetto and have releived some of her financial burdens. I have been speaking a second language for 11 years now and now I am teaching it. My mother is alive and healthy. I don't have any major debt in my life. I have had positive friendships and have people I can count on. I have maintained a long term relationship and am looking ahead toward longer commitments. I am making steps towards purchasing a house. I am saving money and thinking towards the future. I have hobbies and try to keep up a social life.

What would I like more of:
more knowledge of my families' histories in the US
more knowledge of of my ancestors legacy and heritage
more healthy living and exercise
more reflection and appreciation for the positivity
more control over my moods and energy
stronger relationships with friends and families
stronger spirituality and connection to the earth
read more
more love of life

25 is a good check point, a marker of where I have come from and where I am going.

Future Goals
become a better teacher
own a house
travel to some new countries
find a life partner
have children

haiku for ukiah

2006-12-10T22:18:00.000-08:00

rejuvenation
a newfound humanity
in education

man.

2006-12-09T21:57:00.000-08:00

i asked recently if i was man of machine, it i am thankful and grateful for times that remind me of my humanistic nature, or the nature that I was nutured from. While teaching, its hard to really remember, just what you are, but we just had a staff retreat, and i am reminded of why I am here. That I am not a teacher, not just an employee of the state, or OUSD, but a human being, that teaches at a school, that works with young people, not just statistics and paper work, not just enrollment numbers and student ids. i am a man that works with young adults mentoring and building relationships.
and i am not the only man amongst machines, there are men and women that i can rely on and turn to for help, support, guidance, advice, and love. I couldn't find a beter staff and truly thats what it comes down to. I could wish that there was more help more structure, and in some time we will have that structure. but till then i will have committed folk and young elders to guide me. I have leaders that are supportive to my growth and concerned with my stress.
and i will not let the machine take away my humanity. I will not let the beast change me, while I lay in its belly, "like an ulcer" (DPZ). Even if its the students who can not fight off the beast in which they lie. I will remain who I am, hope to empower students to remember the land from which they come, the blood that flows within their veins, and love that will set them free.
I could be anywhere else, and dissillusioned, supported and still unhappy, happy and still unhappy, but I am here, at EOC, happy and unhappy, potential unknown and high. my future, to be determined and endless. my skills quikly being cultivated and built. i do know that in the future i will be a strong confident, effective, teacher, reguardless of the outcome of this year. i will survive. i will succeed.
i am man, let it be known, within the machine, like an african within america.

man or machine?

2006-12-07T21:55:00.000-08:00

I work.
I put in work,
I keep the movement moving,
or is it the machine in motion,
or the mouth mashing me up,
like sustenance and substance.

I am a lump of coal.
A fragment of fossil fuel,
in a hybrid engineered engine,
like Savio said,
i threw my body onto the gears of machine,
in hope to slow it down,
to stop the monster,
but i found myself turned in to another cog,
another spacely sprocket,
with a romantic name.

I contain energy,
I release with applied pressure,
allowing man to measure my might,
in statistics stacked high,
data crunched and spit out of computer,
printed on district letter head,
like me the lump dumped out the backside,
burnt like the others.

I find it naive to think that I am special,
that I am doing something different.
that I am making a difference.
I love solar and wind energy,
but the machine don't have panels and spinning blades,
it runs on gas and creates pollution,
its made of metals and plastics,
its heavy and hard to push.

Am I still organic within the machine?
Or does its inorganic nature dominate my existence?

save the cheerleader...save the world...

2006-12-04T23:14:00.000-08:00

i can't believe i haven't talked about heroes yet, the show is off the hook! for real. me and my housemate watch it all the time, its like origin of the x-men, people discover they have these super powers and start to find others, and realize they have to figure out how to save to world. good drama too, and im a scifi guy so its right up my alley, it son a 5 week hiatus, so you can catch up on with the reruns, enjoy!

un sueño loco - a crazy dream

2006-12-03T22:50:00.001-08:00

--so i discover that i have these special powers, super speed and the ability to jump very high, like bouncing over buildings and stuff. for some reason i start to accumulate weapons and guns. I am having altercations with the police and i kill some of them. So i am a wanted man. I have to lay low and luckily i find a place to stay for a while. the home of one of my students. i kick it in their basement for 6 months, and my student keeps me alive with food. After the months are up and the coast is clear I get ready to escape. My friend from college is there to help me get my all black outfit together. my friend lends me their jacket. I also have on a black hat. When i leave the apartment, there is war going on outside. i see soldiers, guerrilla fighters and people fighting. I try to escape and jump over all of them. I run fast away from them. The police are on to me now. so i climb up to the roof of a parking structure. i jump onto a bus and before they get me, i jump onto a mall and go inside. inside i am being chased still. I start to climb up the floors. higher and higher. another one of my students is following me closely talking to me, trying to reason with me, to get me to come back down. near the top i see a shelf of books, revolutionary books and i realize its a distraction, and i pass it by, at this point i have climbed as far as i can and i am stuck. they are close to catching me and i have no where to turn--

then i wake up. what a crazy dream. its late and i start thinking about the dream, going through it in my head again, i figure i should write down what happened because it was important for some reason. so i write down some notes, in the dark, don't remember if i was fully awake, then i try to return to the dream and find away out, but i can't and i go back to sleep.

i told my house mate about it and she had a lot of insight, she does a lot of dream interpretation. she says the police after me is the OUSD and their attempts of controlling the school and me. and my special talents are the skills that i have that help me. she said hiding out was attempt to keep my sanity and survive. climbing higher is my attempt to escape and succeed. but the voice of reason is my attempt of negotiating with myself as to the many paths in my life. that i am confused and stressed and trapped in away. now that i think about it, it makes alot of sense. i guess things are hard and im reflecting alot and i could go in many directions.

crazy how dreams show so much and are so relevant, i should write down my dreams more. science of sleep. u know i dream about floating often, like swimming more than flying but its always cool. almost time to wake up. am i really typing this or is this a dream too?

forever?

2006-11-27T22:05:00.000-08:00

Forever

"I want to be with you...for..."

it only take seconds to say,
two syllabus strung together,
only a few vowels and consonants,
a word as long as earth's horizon,
more than a mouthful,

"...for..."

For how long?
Just for tonite?
Just for the spring break?
As long as there's summer sun?
For how long?
As long as Im in the area?
Until I go away for college?
Long enough to learn about life?
For how long?
Until the money runs out?
Long enough to fall in love?
Long enough to fall out of love?

For how long?
How long is forever?
forever is eternal,
like the cycle of water,
condensing and vaporizing,
like the transfer of air,
that I inhale and exhale,

"I want to be with you...for..."

forever?
its about as long as we have,
in this physical form,
from which i contemplate forever,
its about as much i can conceptualize,
as much as i can capture,
within the wrinkles of my brain,
within the concrete walls of my existence,
within the timeline of my lifetime's expectance,
I can't see into the future,
So don't ask me about the future,
nor can see forever steps ahead of me,
so you see,
that i can't see forever,
so i can't say forever,
I said,
i can't see forever,
so i can't say forever,

"I want to be with you...for..."

>>>to be cont...>>>

back to work

2006-11-26T22:50:00.000-08:00

it was a nice break, a nice ride, escape from reality, a game of pretend for about 9 days, but the game is over, the ride is ended and im back to work, i can't say i hate my job, so its not that bad, it is stressful, and hard to stomach considering all the drama going on with the district, but its fun interesting, challenging and unpredictable. i guess that adds up to a good job, something i want to keep doing, i have officially made it out of the "disillusionment" phase, as the study states, and am approaching "rejuvenation", looking forward to "reflection" and "anticipation."
i accomplished alot this break, washed clothes, bought some food, taught my mom some spanish, bought some hoodies. i also watched alot of movies, saw the james bond movie, played, madden, doom 3 and marvel ultimate alliance (pretty fun). cooked alot and ate alot, think i gained a few. it was cool.
now its time for battle, got a article in the tribune written about us. all bad. back to meetings, organizing, and counterwarfare, kinda feels like an insurgency against a dictatorship, maybe i'll write a poem about that. maybe.

taalam acey

2006-11-23T00:03:00.000-08:00

taalam was one of the poets that helped me find spoken word,
always been a big inspiration and influence, coz hes just so
damn good. this poem is off the hook, shot out to alex jones,
and the infowars folx. enjoy the poem

my harvest vacation

2006-11-21T23:37:00.000-08:00

no im not quite in a hammock on an island,
i have all kinda of dilemmas in my life right now?
decisions, decisions, decisions.

what time should i get up at?
what time should i go to sleep?
its 1:30am, is that another meal time?
madden 06 or nba live 2006?
skip breakfast and eat a big lunch?
watch a whole season of sopranos in a day or spread it out?
should i take a nap?
should i go outside?
should i shower today?
should i cook or eat out?
should i pick my hair?
should i clean the house?
what day is it again?
should i make my bed?

its nice to have dilemmas that are not serious or stressful,
its nice to be on vacation.

...by the way dilemma has 2 "m"s if you didn't know, i learned that after i was challenged during scrabble. scrabble is hella fun, would be funner if i was winning!
by the way word wars is an excellent documentary on scrabble players,

why the caged bird sings

2006-11-16T21:41:00.000-08:00

u know why the caged bird sings,
because no one listens to the screams,
it seems that the cries for help,
are only drowned out by sounds of the drowned,
and bounce off the bars that surround it beauty.

so it sings for freedom,
in harmony with herioc spirits,
those who waded and waited,
reverberating with slave spirituals,
and west african spear rituals,

the bird sings songs of flight,
hoping to manifest its elevation,
hoping to trangress its situation,
it has never felt air under its feathers,
or a breeze between it beak,
its outlook beyond bleak,
and lungs growing weak,
with its last breath,
its sings for its freedom.

the science of sleep

2006-11-15T21:24:00.000-08:00

just saw this ill movie, crazy, about dreams mixing with reality, and love and language and all kinda stuff. i really enjoyed it. i recommend it, its out there, pretty confusing, honestly i don't know what happened, coz u're not sure if things really happen or just inside the mind of the main character, gael. hes pretty funny. but yeah check it out!

john legend

2006-11-11T00:19:00.000-08:00

you know, i really like john legend. his new albus is out, at least i think its out, i have it, thanx to the people who make bearshare possible. i don't know just something about his voice, and lyrics. i guess he takes me back to a place and time that i will always have in my heart. back before he really blew up. i had heard about him from someone, or on okayplayer or something. but i downloaded his live album first, because his studio album wasn't released and we played it out, coz it was so good, recorded live, and it was good. with kanye and j ivy on it, that was the shit. then the live album was leaked and i downloaded, of course. before he blew up, he was on a promotional tour, and he was at slims in sf, and i think the tix were only 15 or 20 bucks and it was the best live show ive been to, because we knew all his songs, we were singin along people only knew teh single, and they were like, why do they know all the songs, it was so nice, like our little secret, and boy did he give a show, hes a sanger! i can always listen to the live album and think back and enjoy past moments, and now the new album is out, heres my prediction, 1st single already out, but i think "coming home" and "radio" will be the next singles. they are really good. i would like to see him live again. i read that someone better be pretty good to name them legend, but i think it may fit well, coz hes so good and im sure he'll get better with time. my favorite songs are, "nobody's has to know" "so high(live with ivy)" and "coming home" if you don't know yet, get on it and listen up, this brother can sing.

candlelight

2006-11-08T22:11:00.000-08:00

embers ignight,
sparks speak
flame floats
warmth,
it burns,
strength,
it whispers wisdom
it flickers,
questions,
threat,
uncertainty,
it sways slowly,
responding,
to the surrounding aura,
dancing beneath spirits,
it widens,
in attempt to envelop it environment,
controled chaos,
a breeze blows,
it dodges death,
it escapes the inevitable end,
a wind,
it struggles and vanishes.

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

love like a candle can appear from nowhere,
it can grow and broaden,
it can be lost,
but it lies dormant,
waiting only to be rekindled,
waiting to rise again,
waiting to burn.

dicotomized democracry

2006-11-07T16:58:00.000-08:00

so i voted today. and it is exciting, becuase i get to make a descision, at least part of one, and my voice migh tbe heard, but i at least believe that it will be recorded. Funny thing, alot of "revolutionaries", not "liberals" don't believe in voting, and their are many arguments but i think people should vote, if people vote and our voices are not heard then we can fight back and demand change, but if we don't vote, its hard to demand anything. well i voted green, what i have been doing since i guess 2000 when i first voted, nader, camejo, etc. I don't believe that it splits the democratic vote. i believe that the democrats need to move to the left if they want my vote, or let go of the manipulative stranglehold they have on the poor. like a brother of mine said, its hard to fight against oppressor bloodlines, like the masons, illuminati, skulls & bones, bushes and bin ladens. swartzenagger is tied to them through his wife who is tied to the kennedys. but what else can we do, we can revolt, but until then, let vote and make our voices heard. and i they aren't heard we can fight harder the next time. i showed students "unprecedented" about the 200 election in florida, and they kinda got it, but they weren't really feelin it, but they need to know wassup and they should do something about it.

more college?

2006-11-05T23:43:00.000-08:00

i dunno. i mean i never really thought of getting a phd. college is not in any line of my history, so a B.A. was big, and a M.A. was even bigger. I guess i could milk this free education, "rags to riches" thing for all it has. hopefully, this is the last time anyone in my lifeline is poor again, why not take a big leap from the gutters of the TL, and go back. i spent this saturday around a bunch of black phD cats from the bay. academics are interesting, i guess that makes me interesting, i try to resist the pressures to assimilate and abandon my roots and dettach from the masses. but i don't know if i can just work straight till retirement, a university break could be interesting, then i could just travel, but studying something could be cool, reading hella much is not my thing, nor is writing, did i just use nor? wow like i said this academic assimilation is pretty strong, other thing is that it is free, and they pay for your living, but im making money now and thats nice, almost out of debt, as soon as my mom is out of debt, i assume a grad program would be free, hey i was poor right, does that count anymore, don't know. maybe IRT could help me get my phD, maybe, damn another series of applications and tests, and letter, shit that shit sucks. maybe a master is all i need. could do a principal program or something. not a lot of black phD, lots of black women though, maybe ill meet my wife, lol, maybe shes never graduated from high school. who says she has to be an academic? education is attractive, but only so much of it, it gets annoying too, well enough for my love tangent, but going back to school, hmm, maybe in a few years, i'll teach for at least 4-5 years. then i'll think about it. till then, i'll just kick it with phD students and pretend that im working towards mine too, lol

love...

2006-11-02T22:18:00.000-08:00

one of the truest,
strongest,
most certain things,
but there are times,
when it is not certain.

creations in candle light

2006-10-31T23:14:00.000-08:00

scribbles under flickes of candle light,
i write wishing that you were sitting here,
reading over my shoulder,
listening to me read my words as you drift off to dreams,

I scatter these letters across a page,
circling the Ls, the Os, the Vs and Es,
hoping that if i circle enough,
they might connect and join us,
stretching 2700 miles,
through states, cites, and counties,
these letters are all i have,

I print prose on paper,
I profess my poetry to the page.

my advisory

2006-10-26T14:03:00.000-07:00

let's see where do i begin,
at eoc we have advisory groups, kinda like mini counseling groups,
that makes me th advisor, and we meet 3 times a week,
they are a cool group of students,
they're usually down for whatever
always complaining and stuff,

andy always asks, "so what we gonna do today truss? can i play on your computer?"
jo is always tryn to be cool and tough,
noemi likes fire,
jasmine is the quiet leader,
andre is the funny guy with the weird expressions,
dejanae is "about hella" loud, lol,
mafi is the silent genious,
gabby, im not gonna say what i should, lol,
christian, "que quiere decir 'sweardagod' ?"
jose, "can we just leave 5 minutes early?"
karen is always on the phone with her novio

we'll see how we do in dodgeball on firday, lol

i like my group, they are funny and smart,
and not they can blog too!

teaching...

2006-09-01T22:18:00.000-07:00

its hard.
its tiring.
its rewarding.
its inspiring.
its frustrating.
its demanding.
its fun.
its entertaining.
its revolutionary.
its empowering.
its life.

la lengua pa la liberación!

2006-08-30T17:48:00.000-07:00

So its official, like a referee witha whistle. done with the 3rd day of teaching and im feeling good. a few bumbs on the first day, but things are evening out. my new students are really excited about spanish and my second year students are turning around a bit. but my class room is cool now, got it together. see pics my lessons have been good, and ive been adapting to my students and where they are at. so im excited the school is tight,

so im feeling good. and very excited about teaching!

the brother from hezbollah

2006-08-12T00:54:00.000-07:00

so this is a trip, no im not in hezbollah, maybe by the definition, but ill get back to it, but i assumed that these old white cats that live next to us, are racist, underground KKK members, not just because its Boston, and new england, but i have a great example. so the guy underneath me is moving out. the guy underneath was talkin to one of these NRA supportin, bald cats the other day. guy underneath me, (sorry i don't know his name) well he tells the bald cat that he is moving out. bald guy says, " oh you getting away from Hezbollah, huh? " this cat was associating us with hezbollah (well there are some connections aren't there) at least ideologically, we have a common enemy, but i think the KKK members next to us thought we were arnachist, or socialist or something, well we did have a RBG, african liberation flag and a CHE fla hangin, that says somethings. aparently, it says "we're with hezbollah, according to old white guys in new england. damn media, posioning peoples minds, and damn US/Britain Imprerialism. staging terrorist attacks and imposing martial law, im tired of this shit. and i can't even hang a RBG flag outside my house. by they way it was stolen a few months ago, and now it makes all sense. i guess they were being patriotic and following the guidelines of the vague but very explicit compramise of our civil liberties and freedom. well que viva hezbollah, i did learn that they have some dope politics. aparently there are only two types of people, oppressed or oppressor. sounds right. im down against the oppressor, and if thats, me, let me find ways to better liberate and allow autonomy, que viva los zapatistas y los indigenas, by the way. and all power the the people. pa'lante for the boricuas, and Intifada for the palestinians. and im buying another flag!

Im so Oaklandish

2006-08-07T22:05:00.000-07:00

Yo thats where Im gonna be,
being so oaklandish,

for those of you who don't know,
the top part if the official logo of the city of oakland,
the bottom is the roots, the culture, the heart, the soul!

Black Women Hair filling Korean pockets

2006-07-24T16:18:00.000-07:00

this documentary is mad interesting...
one part government conspiracy,
one part internalized oppression,
one part building black buisness,
one part organizing the community.
pretty good film

what in lookin for in love

2006-07-21T21:35:00.000-07:00

today (July, 2006) i was thinkin and talkin to my reciprocal relationship counselor,
and we were kinda updating our list of what we are looking for...

1--Some1 with a high self esteem and self confidence:
I don't want to be the cause of someone feeling bad about themselves, the blame for someone feeling bad about themselves. I think you need to bring a strong self to the table and then find common ground, we can't let people determine how we feel about our selves.

2--Some1 who thinks critically about love and relationships:
The same ole, same ole doesn't work for me and doesn't last. I want someone who thinks about the dominant ideologies, the unnecessary traditions, gender roles, and rules that tear us apart. I want one who constantly wants to check in about how things are going, what they want and commnicate that. Someone who has read or who is willing to read bell hooks with me, she is the truth!

3--Some1 who is about constant improvement:
i used to look for people who i thought were finished products, like concious, intelligent, well read, open minded, etc. but its not about the product, but rather the process, someone who constant reflects on themselves, their actions, their life and strives to improve. that can be about politics, love, money management, health, spirituality, etc.

4--Some1 who is sexually liberated:
no uncomfortable in the bedroom types. someone who knows their body, knows their likes and dislikes and needs, someone who has needs, hopefully that semi match my needs. someone who is not scared of their body. i want someone who want to experience pleasure and not running away from it, because their male God, does allow them to experience pleasure.

5--Some1 who is knowledgeable:
someone who reads books, watches documentaries, watches the history, discoery or science channel. someone who watches the news, goes online to indymedia.com, and wants to know whats going on. someone who has traveled or wants to travel and see new things and new parts of the world.

6--Some1 who is doing something to improve life
no individually motivated mofos please. sorry just helping your family with your inverstment banking job salary doesn't count. charity doesn't count either. im talkin social work of some kind. even if it is in an office or drivving a truck. something that helps people live, survive, and thrive. teaching, counseling, medical care, care giving, etc.

7--Some1 with a big picture:
now this one is hard. i would say ideally, and i haven't seen this much so its hard to ask for, but i would like someone who grew up poor, is from the hood, but made it out. someone who got their education and was lucky or hardworking enough to make it out of povverty, but didn't or isn't selling out in the process. I want someone who understands class, through seeing it, not someone who thinks success is not being poor anymore, someone who feels responsible to thier community, but doesn't want to make nice with the middle class, and someone who hates the rich, i mean hates them, and wants to take their money away and use it to pay for services that the people need. I want someone who understand academic type shit but knows some slang u feel me? someone who can write an essay and talk bullshit to anyone needed. i don't need someone who knows how to play dress up, or talk nice to classy people, fuck them.

i guess thats it for now, a little update, tell match.com im looking for that in a woman, lol

"Dry Tears" a new poem

2006-07-10T19:30:00.000-07:00

yeah this one is a little sad, but sometimes it be like that,
and be it like that sometimes, i gotta write what i feel.

What happens,
When a well dries up?
Does it long for the water?
Awaiting its possible return.
Does it remember the moistness?
The lingering loss of the liquid.
Does it just sit there in disbelief?
In denial of its destiny.

What happens?
Does it hurt?
Does it become sad?
Does it cry too?
Will it cry too?

What happens?
I want to know,
My eyes want to know,
Coz here I sit,
On the softness of cumulous clouds,
That retain wetness,
Rain held hostage,
Harboring pain,
But dry they remain.
Here I sit,
Amongst sentiments of sadness,
My mind in madness,
Romance has become tragic,

I call!
Tears!
They do not answer,

I call!
Tears!
But they fall,
On deaf ears.

Like shamans call for rain,
Like the farmers over dry terrain,
I call for tears,
But it could be years,
Before they come.

They leave me here,
Waiting at a well that has gone dry,
Love sent me here!
It told me that here I could let go,
Beneath my dry eyes,
I thought this well would have answers,
But my questions are unresolved,

I want to cry so bad!
That my eyes hurt,
Like the dry well hurts,
When the last pail has risen,
Like those clouds that don’t deliver,
My eyes quiver,
My lids close,
Only to soften the soreness,
My throat hurts,
Dry,
Like my eyes,
I sign coz at least I can exhale,

I call,
Tears!
They do not answer,

I call,
Tears!
But they fall,
On deaf ears.

I wonder,
What does the well do,
When it dries?
When rain is trapped in skies?
What do I do?
When my tears won’t answer my cries?

I call!
Tears!
They do not answer.

I call!
Tears!
But they fall,
On deaf ears.

And the tears are there,
They just will not fall,
They sit protecting my eyes,
On the edge of my eyelids,
Hydrating my lashes,
Perhaps they are deaf to my call,
Perhaps they are tired of listening,
Perhaps they are like the well,
But with one more pale of water,
Afraid to let the last bit go,
Scared that there will be a time,
A time when I really need them,
When my thirst is too strong,
When my hurt is too long.

So I sit here,
Next to a well that used to deliver,
I sit here,
Under plump clouds,
Over dry terrain,
I sit here,
Hoping,
That the next time,
I will not have to make due,
With dry tears.
Hoping,
That I will be stronger,
Than love’s fear,
Hoping,
That when I call,
My cries will not fall,
On deaf ears.

my first blog

2006-07-10T18:49:00.000-07:00

i had to get on here sooner or later,
i tried myspace, but people don't really be reading your ish,
and no one really blogs much on myspace, and i don't like their
layout, and my hommie solis kept pushin me to get on it,
and i need somewhere to put my poetry, short story ideas,
cool webvideos, and thoughts.
so here we go...