Love Letter

When I kissed your cheek I had hoped the love I still have for you was understood. I don't claim to know what you are going through and I hope I never have to. If nothing else I would hope this experience can be a defining point for you. I had never seen you look so weak before. When I was in high-school I thought you could do anything. You told me you loved me, I don't think you understood what that meant. You had me convinced though. I don't blame you for not understanding the bonds of family. I do not expect someone who's family dissolved to understand what family does for each other. I was hoping you would try, now I see things will never be the same. The rules have changed, I hope you have as well. If you come out of this experience the same person, I will not give up on you, but I will prepare myself for the worst case scenario. I will always keep the picture of me sitting on your lap, no more than three years old, and you, probably 12, reading me a Sesame Street picture book before bed. You will always be that portrait of love to me, because I know it is still inside of you.

Titles

Description Prescription
Art for the Colorblind
This is not Shakespeare

Ideas continued

Ideas for collective works

Roots

With an ancestry dating back as far as the Aztec King, Montezuma, it is hard for him to take life for granted. A nationality split down the middle. A true son of the Southwest is born and raised in the Southwest; therefore one could label him a true son of the Southwest. He has never known anyone who would apply such a name to him. His paternal lineage traces back to the heart of Mexico. His maternal lineage bears no resemblance to his fathers, hailing from the Netherlands. Although both his mother and father are in America because of immigration, only the immigrants on his father’s side are looked down upon. The racial slur "wetback" comes from people like paternal great great grandparents. His ancestors crossing the Rio Grande is a driving catalyst behind his existence.

Hard work is in his blood. Nothing has ever started out easy, from the day his great great grandfather began picking Sunkist oranges in the hot Mexican groves. With hard work and diligence over long periods of time, actions and reactions fall into place. Throughout his ancestry and even for himself, honesty and real contribution to society is not immediately reciprocated. It may take years if not decades for karma to manifest itself.

Even the best fiction writer could not have created the cast that is his family. A lawyer, a nurse, a few full blown alcoholics, a gay therapist, a gay opera singer and even an old man once investigated by the F.B.I for selling a jet to a drug dealer. These people make up the eccentric cast of his family. Everyone is hoping he turns out somewhat normal.

My Bloody Valentine

"Abre los ojos, Roberto. Abre los ojos, mi amor."

"Good morning Raquel, how was your slumber?"

"How was my what? I have not heard you use that word in reference to sleep before, what has come over you?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it, I do feel different. It may have something to do with all the History channel I have been watching. They use words I have never heard before."

"Everytime I see you watching that damn television, you look as if you are anticipating something. What is it?"

"Now don't take this the wrong way, ok? Every night after I finish watching a war documentary on the History channel I change it to the Food channel and watch Giada DeLorentes cook afabulous Italian meal. To me she is everything a woman should be. Do not worry though, you are the only other woman I feel that way about."

"Do you at least take notes? I would like to see you put your new found love for cooking to use, one of these days."

"I would love to, really I would. The only problem is I am usually listening to Journey with the T.V. on mute. I never really know what she is saying, it is great."

"Oh really? Is that what this is about? Would you like to put me on mute? Is what I have to say not important enough for you?"

"You sure do ask a lot of questions. I can see why you would be upset, but it is much to early  though."

"We aren't even married yet and you already bored of me!"

"Married? Who said anything about married? I know I just accused you of asking to many questions, but I promise you these questions are warranted. I never said anything about marriage."

"Then what is all of this? Some kind of sick joke, or am a just a convinient way for you to pass time when you are not at work?"

"Yea about that, I have been meaning to talk to you. I don't technically have a job. That isn't to say I don't make money, you know from my trust fund account."

"Are you telling me you are a liar and a bum? I don't even know this man in front of me."

"You do know you are not required to stay here. In MY house, that I pay the bills for. Well Technically the trust fund pays for, but that is besides the point. Anyhow the door is wide open."

"No, no, no I am sorry I overreacted. I love it here with you. And besides you have a trust fund. That changes everything!"

Writing About Place

Squeaky plastic chairs are all the same, they annoy me and make my ass hurt. I guess sitting in one of those chairs at 2:15 in the morning does not help. At least that is what the mounted atomic clock on the wall reads. Out of my peripheral I notice that the employee working the register is fast asleep with his head hanging off the back of his office chair. The main waiting area carries hints of an old fast food restaurant, a box of curly fries a deep-fried corn dog. Yes this place was a fast food joint at least once, if not multiple times.

Just as my eyes begin to feel heavy, a sudden jingle of the bell attached to the door startles me. A woman wearing a Wendy's uniform pushes a stroller with a sleeping baby through the door. The sleeping employee immediately opens his eyes and jumps to attention. Now that he is standing I can see that his name tag reads, "Hi I am Maxamilion! I am here to assist you." The woman finally pushes the cumbersome stroller through the door and approaches the window of bulletproof glass separating her from Maxamilion.

Right on que Maxamilion spouts his rehearsed introductory speech, he does it all with a contrived grin on his face. As Max enjoys the sound of his own voice the woman fumbles through her knock off brand purse and hands her I.D. under the bulletproof glass.

The woman feebly asks,"I need an advance up to until March 9th."

Her raw unedited emotion, her shame in even walking into a Cash Advance spawns a desire to help fix her life within me. Either that or give her old Max's biweekly paycheck.