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Showing posts from October, 2012

Fragments of Mom and Ita

Fragments of Mom and Ita
1.1. A running joke, “Ya se te olvidó que tienes, Mamá,” has morphed into a fond memory. My family, a group now consisting of my mom, my sister, and my uncle, has turned the phrase into one of standard family sayings. A repeated phrase, when you haven’t called someone in a couple days, “Ya se te olvidó que tienes hermana?”, “Ya se te olvidó que tienes hija?” etc. The use of the phrase began with my grandma, Ita. She called my mom on a daily basis.
2. 2.      “Who’s calling? I asked. We watched a movie in my Mom’s room, my eight year old body curled on my side towards my Mom. It was one of the few days she was off from work. We still had our pajamas on. This morning she called the school and told them I wasn’t feeling well. The Fritos I just ate heavy in my stomach. “Aye, it’s your Ita,” she looked at the display on the phone and set it down. “Gorda! Dónde estás? Hablame,” her voice crackled over the answering machine speaker. I looked up at her. “I’ll call …

The Weaved Music of our Lives

"If you ever get lonely, go to the record store and visit your friends." Penny Lane, Almost Famous 

The theory behind music. Who would have thought there was a theory behind the music. That there is thought behind the incessant beat we can't get out of our minds. An ear worm that embeds itself deep into our subconscious before we even know it. And, when we hear the song, the Zeppelins and Hendrix of our lives, we believe the song was written just for us. The artist somehow knew what we were feeling and they wrote it for us.

The music gets under your skin and seeps deep into your soul until its twisted, combined, and changed your DNA. It's a memory of a first kiss or a caress and that won't change from the still in your mind. From then on that song will take you back to that place, the moment when you were happy, or sad, or...and you are friends for life.

Live in Half-Hour Segments

I just finished watching a cutesy movie about love. The Hollywood kind that a friend of mine refers to as presenting an idealized version of love that doesn't exist. And, perhaps she's right, perhaps it doesn't exist because nothing in life is ever that perfect and ends with a bow tied around the middle. One of my favorite movies has a quote about The Brady Bunch.

01:14:32 Understand why things just can't go back to normal... 01:14:35 at the end of the half-hour... 01:14:37 Iike on "The Brady Bunch" or something. 01:14:42 Well, because Mr. Brady died of A.I.D.S. 01:14:49 Things don't work out like that. 

Maybe things don't work out that way. And, at the end of the half-hour reality sinks in. But, maybe it's not about the going back to normal at the end of the half-hour, maybe it's about the half-hour. And, maybe I'm being overly optimistic, because right now I feel like I'm in that half-hour, but if we don't appreciate the half-ho…

The Sex of Music

a start
notes my body recognizes, foreplay... loosening me up. tip tap tip tip tap
making me lan-gu-id, pliable like finger tips dancing across my skin   a rhythm created  by the drumming of fingers against my  wet lips  singing the song your hands have created against my slicked beat  flicking the strings increasing the speed of the bass  of your moans penetrating   my breathe  the treble to our song rocking           rocking                    rocking faster in  the moment  when we, give ourselves over  to the action of being