if i could,
yes, i would
just stay put
at the back
of the bus.
if you must,
just don’t care
and in god trust.
get it straight.
an old machine
covered with rust.
fuck it man.
fuck it all.
fuck your job.
got me again
in a box
with some locks,
which your heart
holds the key.
set me free
for the populous
fuck it man.
fuck it all.
fuck your job.
fuck it all.
fuck it all.
Who remembers when we were?
Who remembers what we were?
What we are?
Will continue being?
Like a wave from the sea,
Or a rolling stone
That on the journey is found.
Like a breeze from the wind,
A caress and a kiss
From the planet and universe,
An instant and a moment
Well it’s the same thing
If our love is eternal.
You want me.
I want you.
I love you.
You love me,
And like birds, both of us,
Grow out wings
So as to no become entangled
Amongst the vines
Of our garden.
Until we become
Oxygen for both of us
To be able to exist.
Without you I don’t want to go on.
You have me.
I have you,
And that’s how we’ll go on
Like waves from the sea
Or rolling stones
That on the journey found each other.
Who remembers when we were?
Who remembers what we were?
When what we are,
Will continue being
Is the only thing that matters.
He wants to know. Carlos wants to know. He wants to know where reality waits. The essence of humanity, wants and desires. Wants to know if any of this around him is real. And he has a million questions to ask, some of which, he hasn’t put into words yet.
Wonders what humanity is aching for? Is waiting for to return to original being and simple existence? He starts to think that the world’s a ball of pain, spinning out of control. Wants the pain to stop and the nightmares to go away.
Wants to feel complete,
And secure and pretty and in control with a plan and direction like all the other men on their way to work.
Wants better pay and health insurance, a dental plan, a plan for better living, and a better body. Wants anything that does not remind him of now. Wants at all costs to avoid the collision for which humanity’s heading for.
But at the end of the day, he’s just an animal that shits, eats, and wants.
He wants to change his name, really change people, and change the world. Save the world, really save people, and save himself. He wants an original idea; a sacred thought to keep to himself, a secret away from humanity to hold precious and dear.
Wants someone to tell him well done or say good job. Wants someone to look over his money. Wants someone to listen to all his stories. Wants his own priest and psychiatrist. Wants to see the world. Wants to fuck everyone. Wants to fuck everyone in the world. Just wants something that’s real and his.
Doesn’t want more war. Doesn’t want anything that’s anyone else’s. Doesn’t want to take anything from anyone. Doesn’t want to be a capitalist, imperialist, or social climber.
Just wants a little knowledge and a little truth.
Wants to be engulfed by energy while meditating on an Asian mountaintop or dancing to rain gods on pyramids in Mexico. Wants it all, but he can’t have it all. Starts to think; he just wants something he can never have. Wants the Earth to whisper in his ear while life breathes into him.
Doesn’t want to be so average and so mediocre anymore, so generic like all the other plastic selves.
Wants to know. Wants to know.
Wants to know everything, why energy moves and meanings of everything.
Wants to know. Wants to know.
And needs to know, this he keeps repeating, shaking in bed, staring at plastic neon stars on his bedroom ceiling that he once thought were so cool, but now only aid his insomnia.
But he’s not trying to bring the stars down from the skies.
Starts thinking, everyone wants something. Something from everyone and everything for themselves. No one will take anything from me. And all thoughts seem so circular.
Wants to sleep now and rest.
But the universe has a secret; a meaning for breathing, and he
Wants to know.
What it is? Where he can find it? When will it appear? And whom does he need to talk to?
At the end of the day, he’s just an animal that shits, eats, and wants.
so by now, i should probably explain what i have been doing. with my last entry, i just completed posting the end to my third collection of poetry. the poems are all on here in reverse order i guess, but you can still check them out. perhaps one day, i’ll finally feel the poems and collections truly finished to publish them in book format. the three collections are titled: poetic ethnography, poetic syncretism, and notions: on politics, loss, love, and self. someone asked why i had posted a bunch of old poems, well mostly to get them out there, so theywouldn’t just wither and rot on my computer’s hardware, but i also simply because i can. the internet makes it that easy.
up next, i will be posting stories i’ve written since college usually around the same character or a very similar character, which i usually call, carlos castillo. sometimes the stories make sense as a continuation of each other, butsometimes the character is new and disjointed in ways i’ve never been able to reconcile. the character was developed in my creating writing courses, but grew out of my experiences afterwards.
i started working on the second person voice after returning from living and working abroad. i was substitute teaching, and had a lot of time, usually while everyone else was working. the character remained dark, and perhaps sometimes too dark, but that’s kind of how i like it. i probably wouldn’t write some of these stories today as i’m in a very different place in my life now. there’s a reason why my old blog was titled of the lonely lost dark empty.
carlos castillo has mostly been retired as a character in my stories, but perhaps, i’ll bring him back and continue to write stories with him as a character. i still can’t promise some of the new stories won’t be as dark.
spoiler alert: the author kills off our hero in the first act.
also throughout the collection of stories, i’ll be sprinkling poems, articles, photos, and songs, which may or may not have anything to do with the collection of stories and carlos castillo.
e.e. cummings has always been quite influential in my writing as were Joel Rose, author of Kill the Poor and Kill Kill Faster Faster; Rick Moody, author of Garden State and The Ice Storm; and Chuck Palahniuk, author of Fight Club and Survivor.
Below is a list of movies that have influenced my personal philosophy through the power of their story telling.
1. Fight Club
“You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You’re not your fucking khakis. You’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world. ”
Based in the novel by Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club really spoke to how my friends and I were feeling at the time about the world.
2. The Matrix
The Matrix offered us a glimpse into a future we are still becoming.
3. The Battleship Potemkin
This movie got me excited about watching movies that came from other countries.
This black and white film by Darren Aronofsky about the insane world of mathematicians blew my away while introducing the world to this amazing director.
6. The Harder They Come
This is one of the first movies about Jamaica by Jamaicans highlights the pitfalls of stardom.
So before a lot of people start to assume that I listen only to hip hop and rap, or others that I’m an over-aged angry punk rocker, here’s a list of newer folk music I really enjoy. I think deep down when all is said and done, I am really just a big time hippie.
I don’t know what folk music really is, nor do I like putting music into genres, but this is just what I think of when I think of folk music, and I really like the fact that it seems to be coming back, at least commercially it is much more visible. There is no order to this (and that’s just the way I like it) list.
I heard this band with my wife, then girlfriend, after one of her best friend’s weddings. They had planned for those that were still up for partying to accompany them to the show. We bought their album that night, and fell in love with this band. But besides the emotional connections to our memories, their music always makes me yearn for a good walk through a forest away from the city for a bit, which is probably intended since they have been known to write a few songs, and albums in fact, amongst nature’s wilderness. They also use an accordion, which is very cool when it is made to rock.
This guy’s music just blows me away, not because it’s so complicated, but because it seems so simple and effortless. It just seems like so much fun. It’s also very worldly, and if you read any information about him, you’ll understand why. He might be a bit theatrical for some, but I find it comically refreshing.
His electronic stuff might not be so folky, but his music displays the sounds of the world and of the past. He delves heavily into eastern European sounds, a bit of Paris mixed in, and has even recorded half an album with a Mexican folk band. I include him because he plays the ukulele.
I must admit that this is a band that I have only found recently and am a bit disappointed with myself for not having found them earlier. Their name was something that kind of scared me away at first, but after watching a few videos on Youtube, I was impressed. Their from Portland, which, no way, really, but yeah, they are very cool. I just really liked all the harmonizing that this band has going on.
This band is a whole different animal if you will. The collective is really just four guys, that pretty much exchange leads on songs, and not always with all four members. Though they include a lot of electronics, I find their approach to be very folk, especially at how songs sound like jam sessions. As they’ve gotten bigger, their projects have gotten more ambitious, but their is still a lot of soul to their music. Avey Tare and Panda’s solo projects are also very good, and in my opinion much more focused than Merriweather Post Pavilion.
I will admit that the name was the first thing that made me want to check out this band. Let’s face it, it’s evocative. And sometimes, there music is as well, but for the most part their music is a lot of fun. There’s a lot of videos where you can check them out using a stand up bass and a washboard. They have a song about people that eat people being the luckiest people of all. Check them out if you have a sense of humor.
Two sisters. Something about Americans going to live in Paris, and making music. They use children’s toys as instruments, and often sing in child like tones, which are actually more haunting than soothing. This is hippie music for the ex-goth kid.
As half of The Moldy Peaches, Kimya Dawson demonstrated quite a sarcastic wit. With the soundtrack for Juno, she demonstrated a much softer and mature side, which is where she is usually at now as a solo artist. She also creates children’s music, which she performs where half of the show is meant for the kids, while the second half is aimed at their parents. I’ve also heard a few songs from a project she’s working on with Aesop Rock, which I have been eagerly anticipating.
Although since losing Ryan Vanderhoof the band does not sound completely the same in my opinion. They are still a very good band, which jams out like the best bands of the 60’s and 70’s. I guess I really like bands that have a lot of harmonizing.
Maybe the only thing these bands have in common is that they fill me with nostalgia.
One of my favorite things has always been to recommend bands to younger people. As I’ve been getting older, sometimes they recommend music to me, but for the most I have still been able to keep with new bands and new music, but still I think it’s important to get a taste of the range in different genres, and especially to learn what has come before.
Below is a list of bands I like that I’d burn or recommend to a student that told me he liked punk (whatever that really means now) music. In no particular order…
So I will admit that anytime I sang in high school with the Scrubs and later Crying Laurel, I was always pretty much just trying to sound like John Lydon, (Johnny Rotten). These guys have been written about enough, and love or hate their attempt to continue to tour while being the same age as my parents, their emergence was prolific.
As I got older, I really began to appreciate the Clash more and more. Once I became politically aware, the Clash’s message becomes much more radical than that of the Sex Pistols. The Clash also managed to age much more gracefully probably because of their point of view is much more informed and mature.
I love this band. They’re intellectuals. They’re political. Greg Graffin is a college professor, and his solo album Cold as Clay, was also pretty damn good. I used to ride the train in high school, and while I listened to “Stranger Than Fiction”, I felt like I was listening to stories about the future that we are still all becoming.
This band became Mars Volta, which is also an awesome band, and a lot of the newer stuff that Omar Rodriguez-Lopez is doing is just way ahead of its time. But there was a certain energy to At the Drive-In that is only found in those albums.
Perhaps over-rated for some, but I was 12 when Nevermind came out and barely discovering music. Nirvana changed my life, and made high school so much more tolerable because those that identified with not identifying could easily identify each other because of our identification with the band and what they stood for.
This band determined who were the posers, and who was really into grunge and punk for my friends and me. The members went on to form Pearl Jam and Mudhoney. Anyone interested in what was going on in Seattle in the early 90’s had to check these guys out to understand the full story.
Rage Against the Machine’s members all had roots in hardcore scenes. So it was easy for someone like me that really didn’t like rap music at the time. Rage changed all of this for me. The music still had the energy and edge of the bands I liked, but I was also able to appreciate Zack de la Rocha’s rapping style, which at moments had more in common with hardcore screaming than rap. Their politics also introduced me to the history of the world.
Without sounding too much like a punk snob, but if you don’t check out Iggy Pop then you have no business saying you like punk rock music. Yeah he’s old, but this is where punk started, especially his work with the Stooges. Fortunately, the movie, Trainspotting, helped him become relevant again.
I know there are a bunch of other bands I could have named, but these are the ten bands that I chose today, maybe if someone had asked me yesterday or two days ago, I would have said something else.
So I will be compiling random lists of tens. I guess until I run out of ideas. Each list will be about a specific topic. None of the lists will be extensive, but merely reflect the mood I am in. All of the lists will be presented in no particular order, but probably more or less the order in which I thought about them.
If anything these lists are meant to help me keep mental inventory of my interests.
I love the city, and am an urban brat. With that said, maybe it’s because of the neighborhoods I’ve grown up in, but graffiti has always intrigued me. The level of expression and the level of illegality make the art form attractive to all urban rebels, especially since many of its messages have yet to be deciphered.
I know it’s trendy as all hell, but for someone who grew up disliking jocks, yoga is a happy medium. The stretching is something that gets me going, and ready to head out into the city streets. The fact that I can practice yoga anywhere I have my mat is something, which ensures I maintain my yoga practice. Plus the meditation aspect of yoga is perfect to help shut off the city noise when so desired.
I’m personally a big fan of Rodney Yee, and watching his DVD’s really helped get my practice started which has now lasted over two years.
My initial interest began with Jim Morrison. Eventually, I read Carlos Castaneda books. In my travels through Mexico, I have at several times attempted to connect to my indigenous past through shamanism and my ancestors magical past.
Anyone with a little of consciousness can sense that something is very wrong with the world. You don’t have to be an economist or rocket scientist to have a feeling that we are heading in a very dangerous direction. Perhaps, now more that ever, we are in need of the Shaman. Our rock stars no longer fulfill that need, the way the Doors intended to do.
As someone that grew up on punk music, this is just a further extent of the culture into adulthood. I am glad that the DIY movement is extending outside of the music scene and into very pragmatic everyday things like generating one’s own electricity. The mainstream will never know where it’s at until it’s too late because the kids are all doing it for themselves.
This is a no brainer. The planet is on everyone’s minds, well at least those of us who believe in science. I’m really excited by the do-it-yourself aspect of a lot of environmental initiatives, especially those in the inner city and in “underdeveloped” countries.
Mexico is the country where my parents came from. In order to better understand who I am, I have had to learn about where they came from. This has helped me understand them better, but also myself. The country to the south is like a grandparent I hardly knew growing up, but with which I have become very familiar with as an adult. Mexico is for all intents and purposes still a post-revolutionary state.
Poetry is my passion, my friend, my retreat, and my weapon. Poetry fills a lot of spaces in my world. I first started writing regularly when I was 12, but I didn’t think of myself as a serious poet until I was 16. Still I wasn’t able to refer to myself as a poet until I came up with the moniker, po’ E.T. about 4-5 years ago.
Will post a post about my favorite ten poets later, or at least my ten favorite that day.
I got into vinyl into seeing something on the history channel. They found these vases that had grooves on the outside, which they tried to play with a needle and a speaker. They explained about how if we were to lose access to all technology, we’d still be able to play vinyl as long one had a needle and something to use as a speaker. It made me think, “I better get some vinyl to ensure I got some tunes for the apocalypse.”
Nothing beats being able to process your own film and develop one’s own photos. I miss having access to a darkroom, but digital photography compensates for it, and requires much less space and no inhaling of chemicals.
sept. 22, 1998.
dream #7: surrounded.
there is a church that i think i've seen on past visits to mexico. it's so big that it blocks everything behind it like it's blocking off the rest of the world. it's one of those great huge stone churches that looks like a castle. very well decorated with flowers of all colors. the people must have had a festival a few days earlier. there are remnants of fireworks on the floor. my younger cousins are running around and laughing. these are cousins that i haven't seen for a long time, but i recognize them all. my surviving grandparents are sitting in front of me. we are sitting in the middle of this park where the church lies in front of me. we are sitting on the inside of two u-shaped benches. my dad is sitting next to me. my mom and sisters are sitting across from us, next to my grandparents. i'm happy. i haven't felt safe near a church for a while. these people dressed in black robes with black pointy hoods approach us. all the trees in the background disappear. the hooded people become the background. they tell us that we don't belong there. they could almost pass for monks or nuns because they're wearing big crosses around their necks. most of them are women. they begin to make racist remarks against us. they're telling us, but i think they're talking more to me, that we're stupid. i start to cry. there's nothing i can do, and i hate that. their big bodies tower over me. i'm so small compared to them. i start shaking. i'm not sure if it's out of anger or fear. i decide to confront them but my dad holds me back. everyone else is just sitting there. no one is reacting. i'm not sure why the rest of my family is just sitting there, emotionless. all this while i keep shaking and crying, clinching my fists.
sophomore year. creative writing class assignment.