spanglish & roses

Hot again…I like heat though, I am a creature of the desert and if I could I would spend life like a lizard soaking up the sun on a stone, though sometimes I’d rather be surrounded by green things and mist and sleep on a bed of flower petals…I am a sadly divided soul turning between a hope for revolution and an enjoyment of tea with lots of milk and sugar in fine china.  Y de vez en cuando pienso en Espanol pero en veces in English and en veces los dos at the same time, and I love pocho sayings as much as my friend Ceci whose best story is her friend quien estaba hablando y se enojo y dijo que tu eres…tu eres un disgusting!  Only in pocho can an adjective become a noun.  Or when my pinches llantas are flatadas.  Or when I help get people raites.  Or talk about gangas with worried mothers.  Or the tenants who pay sus rentas con cash.  I love the border!  It has multiplied the vocabulary available to express myself by leaps and bounds, como un superman, or super mujer voy brincando de palabra a palabra. And how else could you have the magic that is the Texas Tornadoes?

And now the roses part…Ludin sent out this survey and idly interesada, I filled it out and found I was enchantment…always nice to know, que no?  Que lindo!  I mean, I’d hope falling in love with anyone was deep and meaningful, but at least it’s so when you fall for me!  What a relief!

You are a Lavender Rose

You represent love at first sight and enchantment.

Your vibe: intense and intriguing

Falling in love with you is: deep and meaningful

Echo Park Sunday

Warm Sunday evening, lovely in fact!  When I close my eyes (during gaps in the noise from the traffic) I can imagine I am actually on an island somewhere, corona and lime in hand (that part’s true), breeze blowing through my hair (no mind it’s the oscillating fan), and the sound of waves washing up on the shore (I’ve stuck my feet in a bowl of water for verisimilitude).  I’ve been thinking of redoing the bedroom floor in sand, will save on cleaning I’m thinking.  Boleros playing, and I’m in Mexico more or less, hoping someone will walk up to me and try to sell me a grilled fish wrapped in tinfoil, I could do with one of those!  Would go quite well with my beer.

But no, I’m still in LA.  Still, it’s a nice place sometimes.  Walked down to the lotus festival this afternoon…some fine wheatpasting on the way, don’t know what it means but that only adds an air of delicious mystery to it all…Besides, mass distraction cannot be good, I’m quite against it!

And the lotuses on the lake!  Lovely, and got a photo I’m rather proud of…

And then off to Patra’s for pastrami sandwiches, almost as good as freshly caught and grilled fish on a Mexican beach!  The best part is the classy atmosphere, I mean, just look at the tablecloth!

Really, words do not exist to describe it.  Do they?  No, don’t think they do. Who would believe without the picture!  I asked where they had found such an amazingly beautiful pattern, thought it would look quite nice in my own kitchen, but sadly the workers didn’t know, though they did promise to ask the owner for me.

And Italy wins the cup!  Only four more years until the next one!

death

——–

Impossibly heart-breakingly achingly sad…sadness sits as pain in my stomach and behind my eyes.  I hate viewings and funerals and guns.  I hate for the people I love to suffer like this, what do you say to someone who has lost their son?  Think i might cry after all, embarassing thing to happen at work.

In the desert when I was little I used to watch the sunset every night, watched the light dancing through creasote and across rock, the orange sun sink down red behind the mountains, the sky would turn blue and pink like the inside of a shell, the stars would come out one by one to burn so close to my face I could almost reach up and take them with my fingers.  You are always something bigger and greater and wiser than yourself when standing before them…head thrown back, proud, alive.

You can’t see them in LA, they’re something I imagined.  Like I imagined peace and quiet and content.  Is there a world without helicopters and sirens and violence and poverty and addiction and pain?  Sometimes it seems that everyone is broken, carrying shards of themselves about in their hands, razor edges that cut others, constant collisions of broken glass.  Joel Zuniga shot in the head on a Sunday morning Compton Street.

Tomorrow I might return from the darkside.

Golf hits an all time low

It has, it really has.  Three sad and simple words sum up the depths to which this noble pastime has fallen, they are the…hurts to say it…Cialis Western Open.  How much did the makers of cialis pay for that?  A lot.  Must have been a hell of a lot.  Shall golf be irremediably connected to erectile dysfunction?

On a lighter note it appears from the latest zoloft commercial that anti-depressant pills actually increase suicidal tendencies in kids under the age of 18.  Think it’s about time we flushed the lot of those pills down the toilet.

On a still lighter note Italy!  Que belleza!  Que emocion!  In the words of Univision commentator, “he lifted up his humanity and proved that man CAN fly!”  And that was just the first goal!  And there are fireworks tonight!  I love fireworks!  Exclamation marks of light against the darkness, and you can tell how much I love exclamation marks!

Writing

Woke up early this morning (damn the world cup, I knew this would happen), and it was already hot.  Am currently sitting on the floor in the front room with the fan on full and very little on.  If my house were cleaner it would be nothing, but given its current state that would not be wise…I keep meaning to clean but it is far too hot!  Might attempt it at midnight.

A glorious Monday and no work!  Independance days off today and tomorrow, though i don’t think we’re quite free yet.  Am reading Louis MacNeice, and it’s sent me all lyrical.  I buy old volumes of collected works from used bookstores, but I think I must stop because it fills me with immeasurable sadness to live and breathe and grow old with someone, to dream, fall in love, question, lose faith, grow tired, and then when the poems stop you have lost a friend to the silence…much better to dive in at certain points happy in the boundless possibilities of what they could have once been or what they later became.  Everyone seems to lose faith, it makes me sad because I still hope to find something…Yeats: “and I shall find some peace there for peace comes dropping slow” crumbling to “things fall apart, the center cannot hold.”  ee cummings from

the moon is hiding in
her hair
The
lilly
of heaven
full of all dreams
draws down.

cover her briefness in singing
close her with intricate faint birds
by daisies and twilights
Deepen her.

Recite
upon her
flesh
the rain’s

pearls singly-whispering

to a maze of letters and lost punctuation and black designs upon white paper and

(life imitate gossip fear unlife
mean
-ness,and
to succeed in not
dying)

Neruda, now, I do not know never having read the collected works I am free to believe he kept love and faith til the end.  TS Eliot I am equally free to believe found faith somehow after passing through the wasteland.  MacNeice had only hope and sadness

Forgive what I give you.  Though nightmare and cinders,
The one can be trodden, the other ridden,
We must use what transport we can.  Both crunching
Path and bucking dream can take me
Where I shall leave the path and dismount
From the mad-eyed beast and keep my appointment
In green improbable fields with you.

Still, it inspires me to write, can’t you tell?  Though I am no poet.  I wish my great novel, my Catcher in the Rye would take form, it would be often funny and sometimes sad and sometimes profound and find great comfort in things like a little sister riding the merry-go-round in a blue dress and if I could find it anywhere in myself it would call forth hope like a trumpet because that is chiefly what is missed.  Should I go to the beach?  Or sit here before my computer and allow it to mock my formless thoughts?

Flirting Tips

Feeling much better though still a bit sad on the inside.  Meo had a party last night, nice and chill with a blender and a bar of astonishing depth and dimensions courtesy of friends of hers, Bev and I helped her decorate by posting certain tips on the walls which I thought I would share since they are the most god awful tips on flirting I have ever read and therefore brilliant.  Now flirting seems to involve a subtle and complex ritual with a PIP (Potentially Interesting Person).  In order to best flirt with a PIP, there were ten tips in total, I’ll only bore you with the best of them…

#2: Whisper…it always gets their attention. Ask them if you can tell them a secret…Then whisper in their ear: ‘I just love your tie…can I buy it from you when you are done with it?’

Can I buy your tie?  What?

#4: Treat men gently…If someone you are not interested in approaches you and flirts …be nice…. All the other men are watching to see what you do. If you laugh after he leaves or show visual disapproval, you are cutting your chances on anyone else approaching you. Try shaking his hand and saying something like: ‘It was so nice of you to approach me…what’s your name? Tom? Tom, I know how hard it is to meet people…I might have a girlfriend who would be interested in you.’

Be nice…now that’s good, it takes balls to go up to someone and given it’s a human being in front of you you should be nice, not because other men are watching…but I do believe only the biggest bitch in the world would be capable of saying what follows.  To all men everywhere, I apologize.

#5: IF he acts like a JERK! Be polite but firm. Hand him a copy of the men’s version of ‘Flirting with Greatness’ and ask him to go practice on someone else. Firmly say that ‘lines’ with sexual overtones are not only not attractive to you but to most other women in the world.

Yeah, cause I always have a copy of those in my pocket.

#7: Become More Irresistible! Show a little leg….wear higher heels…the redder the lipstick the more available and noticeable you will be. Arch your back a little as you sit up tall and cross your legs high. Wear earrings that are interesting enough to make someone comment on them.

Now this sounds a bit more like patrolling for clients rather than dates to me, though I’d rather wear a sign saying available and noticeable than wear bright red lipstick and do that arch the back thing…it starts to hurt after a while!  According to the flirting tip source men don’t appreciate the subtle, so a sign might work better anyway.

#9: Give him a look all over from head to toe – nod with approval and then flash him your most winning smile.

Now men do this to me now and again and I really really hate it (unless we’re already crazy about each other, then it’s much appreciated), if women start to do this back, will they ever learn?  Why wouldn’t you just walk up and say hello?  I did say they were the worst tips ever.

And now for something completely different.  For all of you living in So Cal, the ants are now attacking!  It’s time to use that plastic sheeting and duct tape you bought in case of terrorist attack to seal your houses, stock up on Raid, and whatever you do don’t forget your mail slot!  That was today’s point of entry the sneaky bastards.

Bad News

In Boston.  Want to go home, but wish it wasn’t in LA.  The son of one of my tenant leaders and friends was shot yesterday morning on his way to work.  He’s dead.  I’ve known that family five years and was the madrina del vestido for his sister’s quinceaneara…wish I was the kind of girl who could cry when things like this happen, I think I would feel better.  Instead I just feel sick and nauseous inside.  And angry.  I hate the ghetto, I hate poverty, I hate the systems that create and maintain both for profit, and I feel like I’ve had enough, but what a priveledge to be able to pick up and leave when I want to.  It feels like running away.  I’ve never run away from anything.  Still, it’s a physical and everyday pain to me the daily ugliness, seeing people shooting up on the streets, the old men drunk in the early morning, loud angry voices, violence against women, mother’s losing sons, the collections to pay for burials or food or rent or escape from an abusive husband, kids who can’t function anymore because of too much chrystal meth, apartments with fleas and rats and cockroaches and chinches and broken plumbing and dingy and dirty and sad inside and out…even the amazing people in the community I work with who are fighting to turn all this around don’t seem to be quite enough to make me hopeful anymore, and I’m becoming a confirmed existentialist doing what i do not because of any hope but because I cannot turn away from injustice and do nothing about it.  That makes me a crap organizer though, none of this is good for inspiring people. I’m afraid I’ve become the heroine of a Camus novel, maybe even Sartre which would be worse, but neither are any good for a happy and rounded life.  I am funny though…those French people didn’t have that going for them, maybe I’ll make it.  Humphrey Bogart seemed to do just fine in Casablanca and To Have and Have Not, I think I need to work on my one liners and sardonic air.  And get a cool hat.

Lucky Number 7!

God I’m bored! I did say everyone is sick didn’t I? 4 hour nap marathon happening over here, and I want to go hiking, there’s even snow up on the mountains, very sad for me! Ozzy agrees, we’re pacing about together.

So, driven to desperation I did actually open one of those astrology.com emails and decided to see what the free numerology reading could tell me about myself… here you see it:

________________________________________________________

Your Soul Number is SEVEN.

Deep, serious, introspective, and analytical, you accept nothing at face value, and you are always probing into the hidden side or deeper meaning of situations and people. You are fascinated by the mysterious and unknown. You enjoy periods of solitude in peaceful surroundings, and need time to study, reflect, or meditate. You may be given to much daydreaming and flights of the imagination as well. The ocean has a powerful attraction for you. The study of philosophy, psychology, scientific research, metaphysics, or religion appeals to you. You are scientific in your approach to Truth.

Private, reserved, and rather secretive, there are probably very few who truly know and understand your inner thoughts, feelings, hopes, and aspirations. Unless you learn to share your deeper self more freely, and to be less of an idealistic perfectionist, you may be rather lonely.

_________________________________________________________________

So I think this means I think too much. True that. But do people actually pay to hear all of this crap about themselves that they should know all ready? I mean, this is close (just read back to my deep yearning for the life of an ornamental hermit), but it has missed some key facts like my supernatural ability to talk to furniture, the astonishing power and variety of the musical numbers I sing in the shower, my strong connections to the underworld, and the shocking Truth that Darth Vader is indeed my father (though to be fair I did arrive at this Truth scientifically).

Still, what I really wanted to know was what color hair the stranger has who I must beware of, the far away place I want to move to in the next year, and the brand of underwear I should be wearing for luck. This would be useful information. Any updates on the coming Apocalypse would also help, revelations is surprisingly obscure on this crucial point, though Al Gore is trying to clear the problem up so it shouldn’t be long now. I am planning a few weeks of astonishing debauchery to celebrate it, but don’t want to get started too early. I might even start a cult, so if anyone is interested in accepting me as their sole spiritual and financial leader just give me a shout.

Canta y no Llores

Mexico lindo….so close!  Saturday evening and I should be at the beach…but Davin is still sick, our host Dawn is now sick…so here we are. I think we’re going to catch a movie, I don’t really care since I am still deeply depressed though sadly no longer intoxicated.  Too depressed to be funny at all. If I weren’t on a trip which always makes me think more than usual I wouldn’t even write.

Had a lazy day otherwise, everyone being sick…I have some photos to put up but am feeling supremely unmotivated. Last night there were a couple of coyotes living it up outside, I woke up and thought for a marvelous second I was home in Arizona and little and in the desert, but no, I knew I was in Vancouver when the 55 pound german bohemoth named Oz landed on top of me and started barking out the window.  Am very tired!

Last World Cup Game in Vancouver

my mourning period for Mexico is still not quite over, but I am feeling much better certainly!  We went to an English spot this morning to catch the game as did over a hundred other fans and therefore I did not care a bit that England is still playing like shit, though Ecuador played much worse…that shot by Beckham was incredible, and besides, I was regaling myself with bacon and eggs while singing God Save the Queen and something else quite catchy but seeming to have lots of syllables and no words and crashing my coffee cup down on the counter while chanting and clapping and jumping up and down the whole time.  And the match this afternoon, for pure drama it was brilliant!  I do love a good fight or two, means the teams have heart que no?  I was hoping for ot, but the damned dutch just couldn’t seem to find the net…still, England should be moving ahead nicely given all the red cards…and Figo’s probably out as well.  It was a noble head butt though, what possessed the man?

One observation…when Italy won earlier this week the Italians poured out of Cafe Roma en masse to celebrate in the streets.  And today when portugal won the Portuguese poured out of the Portuguese Club of Vancouver (of which i became an honorary associate member today) and shut down the street – even more of them present, it looked like a parade!  When the English won, they sang, jumped up and down, waved their arms around, but did they leave the bar?  No…they ordered another round.  I imagine many of them were planning a day of it.  I shall leave the deductions to you!

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