Monday morning with cable

You give me that gulp-in-my-throat
type of heart burn,
cold mixture of distance and desire.

We've busted the seals, one-by-one.
Probably drank a small lemon tree together
salty and bitter ... and cold.
We drink the nights away
and in your eyes this soul remains old.

But I'm only beginning to wise up to your ways
For my words, chosen haphazardly, have shown me
to just shut up.

Resistance

I am
What to do
What to do?
So many to choose from
enjoying but a few.

The tiny pen, darkness delights
The wonderful image
breezing blues and sun-drenched reds
thirst-quenching greens.
The heart of the creator
The hand of the poet
The feet of the soldier
The eye of God.

I AM
What to do?
What to do ...
Whatever you choose
The gift is for you to decide.

Happy Birthday Frances!

And the wind cries Mary ...

The following experience was written one night
while contemplating the meaning of Jimi Hendrix's song,
The Wind Cries Mary.
In this case, life imitated art right before my eyes.

The song is amazing. Somehow it's about falling out of love and then realizing you have a whole new frightful world to set foot in. It's about breaking down a wall and encountering a new prison to escape from. There is a sense of hesitation, a nagging tear in the heart like there's nothing so scary as facing this room alone.

"Don't be silly " the bird chirps in a muffled voice outside my window. "We seek order just as much as we don't . . . .

. . . I just took a step away from the computer and 25 minutes or so has elapsed. There was a girl and a guy arguing outside my window and I tuned in at the exact moment when she was being pulled by her hair, screaming on the sidewalk floor. I'll remind you it's almost 2am!

She looked like the scene from fight club when the narrator is being pulled by the hair around a parking garage and it is being captured, scene by scene, on security cameras. Yet, there's no one around but one man in his boxers--vulnerable and deranged--and a camera. The pulling and the struggling between the two (between the one) seems so real. Their torture is self-inflicted just as much as it is conceived outside of themselves.

(click here and find the scene at about 1:44 minutes into the clip)

And that's what these two misfits were (one in the same, of the same flesh). Now I can say that they were misfits because I too have been a misfit once or twice in my life. And I feel a little guilty for describing this duo's painful romp around the small corner of a city block for 25-minutes-or-so in the early part of the morning, a simple taste of comedy, sexual frustration, drama, childhood pain erupting through adult veins, weakness, and strength.

But c'mon it was a scene. A familiar scene of dysfunction that rips through most people's lives. It was like watching TV. Like watching a movie through and through. They each played familiar roles, and they played them well.

Something in this duo's cry, which they each decided to make public, was akin to the pain we've all felt as abuser's and also as victims. Eventually, after much back and forth, hollering and begging, they gathered up the pieces of the broken night. Before they started for home, they shared an embrace, some tender kisses, sobs, and muffled "i love you's".

And when this climactic romantic point ended, and it ended just as quickly as it came, she followed his stagger about 20 feet behind him and his little weanie dog on its leash. Something tells me that one day, the wind will cry.

Jimi Hendrix
The Wind Cries Mary:

After all the jacks are in their boxes
And the clowns have all gone to bed
You can hear happiness staggering on down the street
Footsteps dressed in red.
And the wind whispers Mary.

A broom is drearily sweeping
Up the broken pieces of yesterdays life
Somewhere a queen is weeping
Somewhere a king has no wife.
And the wind, it cries mary.

The traffic lights, they turn, uh, blue tomorrow
And shine their emptiness down on my bed
The tiny island sags down stream
cause the life that lived is,
is dead.
And the wind screams Mary.

Uh-will the wind ever remember
The names it has blown in the past?
And with this crutch, its old age, and its wisdom
It whispers no, this will be the last.
And the wind cries Mary.

(Original post created on 2/29/08).

Westwood and Pico

LACMA at night: Miracle Mile area of LA.

Coming home late one night and I had to snap a picture of this scene. Never really liked the piece but something caught my eye as I drove by.

View from City Terrace

Caught this view while helping some friends move from City Terrace.

The Collective Scream: Sex and the City

AGGGGH!!! Have you ever felt like finding some rooftop perched high above the city to scream? To just let out everything all in one breath. To inhale newness. Ever desire to sink away to some high place in the mountains away from the mundane and from that endless gulp in your throat, to find a calm that soothes the soul?

(click here for other insight to this photo)

As a teen I imagined another world much more rewarding to the soul than within this skin. It was a wanting to escape that was deeper than words can describe--the scream much further than the lips.

With the summer comes beautiful release. But more also comes in the form of the all-too-familiar craziness of realizing that a future lies ahead and you have no idea how it's going to be resolved.

Meanwhile a past barks at you, which makes it so much more enjoyable to idle in the present--to live in the present and make the best of all situations and especially to make the best of summer.

The summer is a time of release--we sweat more, the sun peels our skin and reveals new layers--and for this we have to take in more. We gulp down more liquids, we rest more (is that why sleep feels so good in the summer?).

We even desire more--food, dance, the cooling sensations of flesh on flesh, warm lips, bright smiles, hearty laughs, and music that caresses the soul. Like a chubby kindergarten runt building a deep bridge in the sand just before the tide, I lap for the last remaining sunlight before the summer is over and fall sets in.

But the scream will persist long after the time changes and the leaves begin to fall from their trees. Because it originates in a place that I'm sure can't be found by a medical doctor or a psychiatrist or even an expert radiologist.

It beckons my ancestors, my mother and family, and especially my friends. It's a call to GOD and to love, to the future, to change, to happiness, hoping that a response will be heard in return. Little but an echo returns and I realize that in this summer the scream exists in a place that surpasses the physical, mental, and spiritual.

You know, I was able to form some connections around this time last year with some interesting characters. I was out of work. My relationship was in shambles. I was recovering from the loss of loved ones--seriously recovering like a victim of a car accident. And it was beautiful. I was talking to all sorts of random people on the street--sharing and experiencing another being and their pain and happiness and their strength and vision. I learned about myself, about Love and humanity, and how much one gains from embracing humanity by sharing in it with others.

The world that I imagined as a teen is slowly coming to being. It's an engagement. It's a deeper connection with a few where our humanity is kept out in the open--our sex and sexual preferences, likes and dislikes, our dreams, passions and our goals. It is no secret what our ideas are about religions, faith, God, racism and gender roles. We talk about film and music and our insecurities.

And we are worlds apart. But our screams become a song. A collective yearning ... a collective embrace.

Just like sex and the city, the idea of a tight-knit posse is quite alluring. I like the idea that a group can get together and share so much of themselves and really be friends instead of backbiting and murmuring and judging and tip-toeing around little insignificant bullshit. If it can be dreamed, it can be accomplished. There are friendships like this. I've been graced with such friendships.

And I believe even more is possible. There exists in this crazy, unfamiliar, and often frustrating world the ideal of connection and solidarity with others. And this mutuality gives birth to creation and something even more contagious--Love and peace. And even though my desire to scream persists, I'm stepping in and holding on, because God is amazing.

One day, our movies will be made and our stories will be told.
One day, I and my partner will hold our children on the beach while a bar-b-que grills in the background and our families and friends play loteria.
One day, our songs will be heard and we'll sing in unison.
One day ... one day .... one day.

Film Makers on a shoot

It's July 4th and these film makers create a short for stupidface.

Paparazzi in Los Angeles

The other night I'm giving a friend of a friend a ride home in WeHo. Upon our arrival to his spot one block south of Santa Monica, a light flashes. Did someone just take a picture of us? Nah, no way!

The flash was subtle. And at that moment, I'd bet a ten spot it was aimed in our direction. I scanned the street in my gangsta 'who da fuck takin' pictures of me?!' stance. No one there but some shirtless guy in the shadows walking in the opposite direction. I followed a faint ting of wine glasses, laughter, and women in mid conversation to an upper apartment window 30 feet away. Ahh, it must be them.

I eavesdropped for a second but couldn't hear what they were saying. It'd be nice to be a fly on that wall. Women, like men, talk some funny stories in all-female space. Men aren't the only pervs on this planet. (I digress ... we'll save that one for another post).

Flash! Another light. This time it doesn't bother me as much but I use the instance to entertain myself until my homeboy returns. Maybe the flashes are coming from CIA operatives following me and these other guys--the ambiguously gay duo who fight off injustice in plain clothes and frequent restaurants in LA. Or maybe my friend's friend has a jealous boyfriend and has hired some technologically inept gumshoe to take pictures of us dropping him off. It seems your partner is doing this other man's laundry -- see the big bag that looks like a stack of dirty clothes.

Fifteen minutes later my friend returns to the truck -- maybe it was a quickie. We pull away from the curb and I tell my friend about the flashes.

Flash! Another damn light!! I look to the left and I can't believe what I see. It's the shirtless paparazzi! The guys been lurking there in the shadows this whole time, snapping pictures of us arriving, me chilling by the truck, and now he's got a picture of us leaving. I slam on my brakes and put the truck in reverse. My friend says, 'Oh God, testosterone in overdrive. What are you doing?' I can't resist the need to get to the bottom of this. In one swift motion I back up and pull my camera from it's case. I tell my friend to take a picture of this guy to see how he likes it.

I scream out. 'Hey man, what's going on!? Why the pictures?!'
He answers, ' Oh, I just like taking pictures. It's a hobby of mine.'

Are you fricken kidding me!? I grab the camera from my friend--whose practically peeing his pants--and snap a few shots in his direction. What's the shirtless paparazzi do? HE POSES!!

We share some brief but extremely awkward niceties. The guys strange--to say the least--but just another LA character. What you gonna do.


This is the first picture taken through my sunroof by my nervous passenger.



This is my first picture taken in a 'how do YOU like it?' manner, which didn't quite produce a response I expected.


This is my final picture, not really understanding what the hell is going on here.

6th Street near Fairfax

This is one of my favorite short drives in LA. When the sun is just right -- around 7pm or near setting. There's amazing glow in the trees. Passing through it, towards the sun is memorable.

Congrats Cuz!

Cousin graduated from UCI, is getting married next year, and just got into a Master's program!

Bodega in Pasadena

Pre-Henry's Birthday party!

Critical Race Studies (CRS): Muneer Ahmad at UCLA School of Law

Remembrance of things past: Hope for Peace, Justice, and Love.

Think of prisoners of war for a moment--friends and family of Vietnam or Iraq. Think of the Japanese Internment of the 1940's when thousands of Japanese Americans were interned within US borders, their assets seized, their lives decimated by one swift swoop of the US government's hand. Ponder for a moment the atrocity of the Armenian genocide, the Jewish Holocaust, and the numerous battles, skirmishes, coup d'etats around the world. This is recent history! There are people alive today that have lived through all of these events.

A look at the history of the 1900's reminds us that we've had two World Wars, each with disastrous effects, and a Cold War that economically, ideologically, and politically ravished numerous countries and destroyed whole lives. A look at the 1900's reveals progress--a movement forward, increase, development, advancement. But towards what exactly? One can only hope that we've learned the collective lessons of history about how brutal and evil humankind can be toward one another.

Saga at Guantanamo Bay: UCLA School of Law Critical Race Studies (CRS) Event:

The CRS Department held an event at UCLA with featured speaker Muneer Ahmad, a former defense attorney for a Guantanamo Bay detainee, who spoke of the the various human rights violations taking place at Guantanamo Bay.

A) He spoke about how the location of Guantanamo Bay (a military base near Cuba) and the rigorous protocol of speaking with detainees made it difficult to build and sustain trust with clients, an essential piece of the legal realm.

B) He spoke of inhumane living conditions, prisoner mistreatment and abuse, and the gray areas within US law that shelter human rights violations taking place at the base.

C) Muneer also mentioned the racism inherent in US policy and treatment of Guantanamo Bay detainees of past and present, from Haitians in the 90's to Middle Easterners post 9/11.

D) Finally, Muneer spoke of detainees who have have sought various methods to assert their own agency, often offering up their bodies in protest to inhumane conditions--the body is supposed to be that object one typically has domain over. So even though some detainees have used to the hunger strike method to combat mistreatment, MORE mistreatment results.

In response to the hunger strikers' tactics, officials have reportedly purchased the chairs at the left to force feed detainees.

First a detainee is offered food. If that is not accepted, the detainee is given IV fluids. If those are pulled out, then the detainee is given the chair and force fed--imagine someone shoving a thick nearly 40 inch tube through your nose or mouth and leaving it there so you can't vomit the food up.

One of the detainees has been on a hunger strike for over a year! He is force fed while restrained in the chair, twice daily.

I've seen restraints like these before. Typically a person is restrained to stop from hurting themselves or others, for example in a hospital ward. But never have I imagined that the dehumanizing concept of restraint could be used to thwart a perfectly sane person's attempt to protest unjust action.

(Original post created on 2/21/08)

Saturday Morning Traffic

... makes me late for work!

Trip to Rosarito, Puerto Nuevo, and Ensenada

Illuminated Sight: Time, Space, and Light

Saw this coming out of my apartment the other day. Had to snap it quick before leaving to work. More to come ... this picture speaks volumes to me.

Hermanos Unidos Retreat

Joined the bros for a retreat at Kenneth Hahn State Park near Ladera Heights. Had to take a picture of the all-encompassing view of nature and our environment.

At work

May Day 2008: View from a flatbed carrying the band.

Los Angeles, Ca. View of the May Day march procession, which began at 7th and Park View near Macarthur Park and finished at Hill and 1st St near City Hall. In the mirror is the CHIRLA banner and thousands of workers celebrating International Workers Day.

Blazing trails: Fire and Soul

I didn't start it but I sure saw it. It first came into view all the way from El Monte as I drove to a friend's pad in Temple City. This pic was taken from the 210.




It didn't stop us from queing it up though. There were more pressing issues at hand. I was visiting a friend whose father recently died of cancer. He'd been battling it for a few months now. Death--and ironically the transition of a person's life--has a weird way of bringing people close. We learn from those who die and sometimes their death and life teaches us more about life, love, and humanity then when their physically being is with us. The beauty is that somehow, in an unexplainable way, they still keep giving us life-altering (life-sustaining) gifts even if it's just their memory that blazes along side of us, which has the potential to clear paths and make room for the new.

An 'Ocean' View at Dusk

Chilled with my homie overlooking PCH and Santa Monica Pier. Here's what else was in the air.

Southwest College: UCLA Worker Survey

Haven't been able to focus on writing. Started two jobs in late March--one with UCLA and the other with a non-profit--and I haven't had the energy to post. Meanwhile life with friends and family and the craziness of everyday events and drama has me tied. Here's a pic of my work site--Los Angeles Southwest Community College!

The Sun still shines

So UCLA lost the other day. I still qued it up with the bros at the twin's place. Good times. Nothing like a hot grill, some bomb-ass cheeseburgers and good people. Even if we did lose, the sun still shines!

You are Light!

This picture reminds me of my bro. Ironically it also sheds light on my aunt's motto: "You are LIGHT."

With a Little Help from my Friends

I remember the first time I met Romeo. Like a scene straight out of Wonder Years, we each lent the other an ear, and "tried not to sing outta key." Our peculiar friendship began right smack in the middle of the UCLA Student Store while I perused a Salvador Dali art book after attending UCLA's AAP Scholar's Day.

His animated frame came bursting onto the scene to the right of me and we started talking art and politics from the get go. He seemed much smarter than me (but not cooler) and, as his name highlights, he had no problem taking center stage, subtly dramatic, somewhat virile, and highly complicated like a true Shakespearean character.

I was amused by how he drove home each of his talking points with his hands and head, a half-cocked smile nailing each issue with an academic and comedic flare that jerked to a beat only he knew. He's always been an academic. He's always danced to his own rhythm. Imagine our surprise when two months after our initial meeting at the UCLA store, some campus office had placed us to room together in the dorms. A mixture of chance and fate.

Fast forward nearly six years later and the guy's got a Masters and is beginning a PhD program this fall. Having received numerous offers at top universities, he's got some difficult decisions to make, but some very good options. The long hours spent simultaneously stressing and studying, hoping that no one could rightfully claim us to be fakes at the university, unworthy of being accepted into UCLA, are long gone. We studied harder. Pushed each other further. And even found ourselves at each other's throats throughout our undergraduate careers. We've owned different paths, taken different steps, and entered different worlds.

Yet we found each other sharing dinner the other night with mutual friends. We sat there eating ramen noodles in Little Tokyo (Japantown), while catching up--talking sports, relationships, future plans, etc. We talked race and class ... laughing, sharing, and analyzing the night away. We even shared a shot of Patron and some hearty smiles. Good times for old buddies and roommates, fellow students and lovers of life and Love.

Congratulations, bro! I'm proud of you! But don't let it get to your head. Ponte a estudir! (haha) and Don't Let me Down. 'Cause I'm sure you'll agree that Cocker had it right doggy, "I get by with a little help from my friends."

First Day of Spring

Rode the bikes down to the Queen Mary with some homies.

A Special Day, A Special Vision

"Blessed 2 Surf"


Vision is beautiful!

To write or not to write ...

I've been really busy lately and haven't had an opportunity to post. Actually, there's a number of postings in my draft folder but I still can't seem to finish them. Funny the way 'block' occurs. While my ideas for some posts and my drafts increase, so too do my to-do lists and the things on them. Like all things, writing is a form that needs to be done regularly. But I'm still writing--just not posting. Still got ideas, still getting into treble, still writing, just not clicking 'post to blog.' Block never occurs in a vacuum, though. Time to take a couple of steps back, look at the situation with new eyes.

First it's interesting that I say 'block' and not 'writer's block.' Maybe it's insecurity about my status as a valid writer. Or maybe it's because I'm completely secure with my writing ability--faith in development, faith in returns--and I understand that writing is a process, which includes not only the act of writing but also the act of living. And of course, self-reflective thought. So block occurs in one's life and 'writer's block' is only one manifestation of some larger 'block'.

Again, as I sit here and self-reflect, I realize there are a lot of things I'm obsessing about. And they're all very diverse issues. Sometimes my 'work' on these issues feels like a full-time job in itself, which is interesting because then the question becomes about, "who's paying me?" God is wild. This supreme being will take you somewhere and the faith is that it will guide you, comfort you, keep you sane, keep you whole. But the trip and the journey you sign up for and head out on, makes you different, changes you so much so that the reflection you see isn't yourself, but a mixture of the person that was called and the decaying flesh of a vessle we explore that calling with. The two are one ... and the two are seperate. Each are strangers to one another, to the world, and to themself.

But the pace at which this change occurs and the ways I'm changing often make it difficult to assess--to step back and see clearly--the impact of my moves and the force of previous steps. It's a little frightening. My faith is nurtured with 'signs', messages in a true sense, where communication is occuring on a give and take basis, and isn't a case of me seeing what I want to see. But few can grasp this power of true communication with a higher being. Even I find myself questioning the source--validity, sanctity, and saneness of it all. I can only hope that given the indescribable and other-wordly power of this dialogue between God and myself, that I move forth and reach all of my unknown destinations. That I can be a faithful steward in this journey. I'll click 'post to blog' in due time. Meanwhile ... Love.

"La Cita" ... "The Meeting"

LA Sunset

Murals in Los Angeles: Jesus Christ and the Community

Jesus Christ--Memorial

There is another piece on the south facing wall of the Pico Union strip mall from an earlier post. This piece faces an alley and is dedicated to Jesus Christ and his Love and support for humanity. It has a lot of names strewn across the top of it (I'm assuming it's people that have passed in the community or some of the artists of the mural--maybe both).

BET: Black HIstory Month Programming Inspires Me

I was watching the Black Entertainment Television network (BET) the other day and this show History Makers came on that highlighted how various activists and community leaders approach their life, faith, and their work in the community. The program was really inspiring because it showed how various folk attribute their lives' work, which often includes a desire to change the world and make it more just, is grounded in spiritual experiences they've had at key points in their lives. It made me wonder if there's a Spanish language or even Chicano equivalent of this type of programming. Some of the next programming includes:


FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 22 8:00 p.m. ET/PT on BET
THE BET HONORS -- BET celebrates the lives and achievements of African American luminaries, in this 2-hour special hosted by Cedric "The Entertainer." Stevie Wonder, John Legend, Jill Scott, Wyclef Jean, Danny Glover, Kerry Washington, Vivica A. Fox and Hill Harper pay tribute to Alicia Keys (Entertainment Award), Tyra Banks (Media Award), Dr. Cornel West, University Professor in the Center for African American Studies (Award for Education), Richard Parsons (Corporate Citizen Award), The Honorable Maxine Waters (Public Service Award) and CEO Janice Bryant Howroyd (Entrepreneur Award).



SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 24 12:00 p.m. ET/PT on BET
HISTORY MAKERS: COURAGE -- Through the revealing personal stories of influential African Americans such as Nikki Giovanni, Vernon Jordan, Angela Davis, Harry Belafonte, and many others, viewers are shown the importance of following your own path and standing up for what you believe in despite the opposition or consequences.




SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 24 10:00 p.m. ET/PT on BET
OPERA NOIRE -- Catch the ultimate theatrical performance, Black opera. BET J celebrates African Americans and their significant contributions to the Opera in this informative documentary examining the issue of race in Opera and Classical music. This special focuses on the outstanding careers of such great musicians like Paul Robeson, Marian Anderson, Leontyne Price, Jessye Norman and Robert McFerrin, the first African American to appear at the Met. In addition, it will encompass a red carpet concert gala performance of selections from celebrated composers including Gershwin and noted African American composers.



This information adapted from here.

Ya Basta!: Workers Protest in Los Angeles

"Fuck you! Pay me!"
Do you remember this line from Good Fellas? It kept ringing in my head as a proper heading to this post because the scene it comes from underscores the corruptibility of American Capitalism, and what some might legitimately call "Gangsterism"--the type of business where the importance given to and the transaction of money supersede human beings, business partnerships, and law. But I think the quote can be applied further--shined in another light--because it also serves as a reminder of the power of American Democracy, the "lil guy's right" to shout out when they've been wronged. And though it may seem vulgar, there are some things that are worse than offensive language. Read on.

The other day I catch a protest near Hollywood and Universal City (cinema and democracy, how poetic, huh?). Niemann Properties hired a contractor named Otoniel to assist in the completion of the housing units below. Otoniel turned around and subcontracted the work out, hiring a number of workers to accomplish the job. Fast forward $144,000 and a few months later, and the job is nearly complete. The problem is that a number of workers have yet to be paid for their work.

Beautiful homes just don't appear outta thin air:

What's being said:
Niemann Properties representative, Robert Sandler, stated that he believes there are approximately 20 people who have not received compensation for work completed. He continued by stating that Otoniel did not keep accurate records, and Niemann has no clear idea of how many workers were involved. They are also unsure about who was payed and who was not, how workers were payed, the names of the workers involved, and no record exists of their hourly rates!

A representative for the workers stated that they met with Niemann in September 2007 to discuss timely and accurate compensation, and argue that Niemann was aware of the payment discrepancies since the beginning stages of the project. One of the organizers of the event stated that actions like these are part of an ever-growing national Wage Claim Campaign that denounces the exploitation of workers and seeks to recover accurate and timely payment for for the work that workers complete.

A strength of American Democracy is the ability to stand up for yourself when you've been wronged. It's the ability to fight for what is yours.

You may not always win, but at least you can argue, struggle, and say it loud when someone has wronged you. Maybe you'll make the culprit think twice before they screw someone over again. In the process, you'll even make some headway for change. Enough is Enough!!!