el dia de hoy

what makes winters lonely

someone recently introduced me to what too quickly has become  my  wintermuzik for 2005. too sure it will also be the muzik in my head for the mornings of early 2006. mornings of winter. of birds on window sills. and relentless winds and rainfalls. in the valley, there is no snow, just winds. and rainfalls,  if we're lucky.

when the spring is cold where do robbins go? what makes winters lonely? now at last i know.

astonishment

:: Milton Glaser ::.

astonishment. i hope to god i don't loose it. sometimes, it seems, like it's slipping. it scares me. then somehow,  i'm rescued. by something, by someone, by some sound or some smell.

"why do you teach?" he's asked.

"fundamentally, i teach because it makes me feel good. it's helped me clarify my own objectives. there's nothing more exciting than seeing somebody change from a condition of inertness or inattentiveness into a mind that begins to inquire about meaning."

may god keep me from ever loosing my capacity for astonishment. this world, this life, is too damn good for that.

sister ana

not too long i sat with her and blogged about it  and now she's gone. she's been gone for some time now.

i could've visited her. the way i made myself visit my grandfather today. it was friday night and i was ready to go out and instead, i went to mission. to my old house. i knew he'd be out there. sitting on the patio. it felt good to see him. i call him "capitan" and he does the same to me. what a grip. in his eighties. i wish i would've gotten his size and strength. instead, i'm small and frail.

it's good to see him. he smiles big when he sees me and breaks up everytime right before i leave.

i so wish i would have mustered up the courage (for lack of a better term) to go see sister ana when she was ill. she left me and many others who loved her,  way too fast. she gave so much to all of us.

it took stalina to tell me. many days, perhaps weeks, later. we both laid there, staring up at the ceiling.

al fin

i arrive.

in mCallen, texas.

such bush country, it's berzerk. peter, that book should be titled, "Whatever happened to South Texas?"

i left houston. slowly and painfully so. i read "paco mentiras" at the open mic on friday night thanks to the invite by my good Salvadoran friend Karlita. i miss her and houston.

i'm now in rural america, if you can call it that. it's amazing how much rural south texas has in common with rural kansas.

aqui se acaban mis palabras por hoy. despite the bush frenzy down here there are some exquisitely beautiful souls. 

najaf

najaf is found to be explosive.

the war continues and hummers hum along.

i missed mass.

ill soon be a godfather.

im trying to learn to write from baldwin. someone writer once wrote that baldwin taught him to write calmly when he's angry.

perhaps ill slowly begin to write again. for the same reason that i gave peter for learning to play the guitar. for my own damn good.

winter ends.easter approaches

winter ends.

the forty days of lent slowly come to an end.

the fifty days of easter slowly approach.

words have been scarce. thats not always bad.

december days

as is evident, my posts are scarce these days. the daily dose of writing i committed to a while back has for more reasons than one, gone the way of dirty piles of laundry and dishes left undone...

just returned from being in the woods for a few days. no internet access. just trees and a lake.

come january, im not sure what this space will look like. not sure i care right now. perhaps more personal, perhaps more political. perhaps neither.

miserable failure

although miserable failure were dick's words, i think i'm going the route of dean...

the lesser evil..for some...

the middle of nowhere, where

is it anyway?

it was a piece

on this american

life last

sunday

the place youve

never heard of..

until you hear about it..

and then, you cant stop

hearing about it...

gore goes dean...

or en

Dorses Dean...

and joes just not

right for the job.

what job?

in other wor(L)ds...

the us is sorry in afghanistan...

and in baghdad, drive by's

are in...

el(los) dia(s) de ayer

three days.

some random thoughts about

jesus saving the lost and how,

somewhere, somehow, i want,

but dont, quite feel

lost.

or at least dont feel the need

to feel found.

three days.

baker and bush do the twist.

more boys die in baghdad.

putin sounds the trumpet.

and all of a sudden,

bush and blair arent

the only ones

claiming victory on

miserably lost causes.

soy mejicano, me thinks

soy mejicano muy materialista. se me van, o se fueron, los dias de protesta. ese ni~o idealista que so~aba en algun dia cambiar el mundo. ahora me siento solo. escuchando a manu chao en mtv en espa~ol en mi nuevo television de flat screen con canales hasta la...

y como escoger...

como llenar mi plato...

saber como parar...

y no tener que

siempre ser, el

ultimo en el bar

manu canta de las calles de barcelona. las calles que muy facil pueden ser las calles del parque del periodista en medellin. o la de la plaza de los sapos en puebla. las calles oscuras de coyoacan. donde el deseo del cigaro siempre sale. salen tantos deseos. las calles y deseos donde,don sabina nos cuenta,habita el olvido. y no solo el olvido.

y esos bares y tabernas donde, como iglesias raras, no predican redencion ni salvacion, solo comunion. y eso siempre lo encontraras. como la taberna italiana con paderes amarillas en la avenida sexta de cali. donde el due~o y el dj eran el mismo. un sudafricacano con abuelos holandeses y uno esposa boliviana. era siempre nuestro lugar preferido.

y ahora me cuenta mi amiga que nuestra taberna y el sudafricano ya no siguen alli. ahora el due~o es de cali. y tocan salsa o vallenato. como si no hubiera suficientes lugares con los sonidos de salsa o vallenato en cali. habia veces cuando a alguien le daba las ganas de escuchar a patsy cline o frank sinatra o quizas una cancion clasica de los beatles. y para eso uno tenia que ir a visitar al sudafricano en la taberna italiana en la avenida sexta de cali. donde por supuesto siempre se escuchaba la voz de manu. pero ahora mi amiga, junto con la taberna, dejo a cali y me cuenta que habita en carolina del norte. donde se conformaria en encontrar solo un lugar donde escuchar y bailar salsa.