And then. . .

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! Dón...

"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.

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 ...

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 

Last Saturday, I used an analogy that I believe gives an accurate description to one of the processes that takes place in my mind. I call it the balloons in mind. Because it's my last year of school, because it's things I worry about, because it's that person I just don't know how to deal with, because you don't know how to get the wording right, because what's going to happen in June, because, because, because, because... Because as I think of all these things I blow another breath of air into the balloons in my mind.They continue to expand and grow until the red one is bigger than the blue one, and the yellow gets pushed to the side, while the orange one, it stay the size of a medium grapefruit. With each conversation, as the breath travels up my chest and out of the pink flesh of my lungs, and into my mouth that tastes like coffee, a breath is exhaled. My words are exhaled into the balloons. They get filled with the worry and the doubt and the hopes and ...

The sky is clear as glass. A bright, blue, technicolor vivid. Below, it's mirrored reflection bounces on and on in the infinite blue of the water. The trees embracing the lake, stand still, towering guards. The bottle neck opening provides the only open space from the endless branches, leaves, and acorns interweaved tightly together. A canopy of life and green and earth. Suddenly, The steps of a stranger interrupt. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch .The dead animal soles echo. He walks to the edge of the lake and stares. Brown eyes attempting to take in all the blue. He looks at the trees, the water, the sky, and yells. Loud. Hard. The scream bursting out from the center of his body, out of his mouth opened wide. Stretched to the seams of where his lips meet. About to stretch apart if they could. His stomach slowly sinking in on itself as all the air vacates his body. It goes on. Long. Deafening, until he can't breath. Till the scream turns into a hoarse whisper and only his mout...

perhaps it is cliche , but there is something special about desert rain. i've lived where it has rained for weeks on end, and although special, because i love rain,  it doesn't hold the same whimsical quality. whimsical. i use this word for lack of a better term. but today running through a river of rainwater racing down the depression in the mountain my campus sits in, the Sun Bowl, didn't cause frustration. instead a bubbling of laughter rose from my core. squeals escaped as the down pour increased its drenching rhythm. the splash my sandal-ed feet made echoed with exaggerated suction as i pulled away from the rain insistent in encompassing me. rain drops ran down my shortly cropped hair into my eyes, drops ran down my naked arms, splashed onto my bare legs, until i was soaked. and still more laughter escaped me because of the fruitless effort of those around me carrying umbrellas and scurrying against the running water. inside we all looked drowned and soggy; col...