Letting go of the Bad Old Ways

I am missing the good ol' days,

but I gotta let go.

I am missing the good ol' days,

but

I

must

let

go.

I must break the chains

yes,

those wickedly

traced chains

etched chains

chain marks

bruises

slashes

cuts

dents in our rib cages

left behind...

left behind...

the pseudo war wounds

from our banters

ravings

love rings

criminal

policital stings

political agendas

forgetting that you are a

poet

a writer

an artist

harrassing others

with your annoying cries of

Oh, but what Everyone does to me!

I used to shrug my shoulders and say

write about it.

stop thinking about it.

ponder it no further.

Write

About

It.

on your iPad

iPhone

sketch pad

back pocket note pad

palm of your had

blog

grandma's grocery list

ex-girlfriend's bleached jeans

I do not care.

Just write it!

If I enable You -

if I let you just mouth it to my face

it strikes like thorns...

into my eye pupils,

the end of my tongue,

my nostril,

my chest,

my lungs,

my thighs...

Yes,

you get too close.

You've gone too far.

Outrageously outraged

with these ill thoughts

that you just won't get rid of

because you feel you're such a victim.

and you wanna have a drink with me

like the good ol' days...

But all that has changed.

we boycotted the old hang out

it shut down

too many beggars grab

at my boobs at the new joint

I used to be able to yell so much!

...but now

no so much

not as much

any...

more...

even if I try.

I

am

Tired...

I am tired of

all the anger

and the hatred

and the rage

and the annoyance

of the gossip

and all of evil's pleasures...

It is difficult to remember

the good ol' days

if you can't remind me

of the good old ways...

and if you can't win over

the good ol' pals

good ol' lovers

good ol' guys and gals

we all used to

hang

out

with.

I have to let you go.

Mexican-American at New Tokyo's

Today's Facebook Note turned into a good blog topic  story...

This one's about being multicultural...

*I'm remembering an evening I went out to New Tokyo's on the Honch...
The year was 2001, post 9-11.
The pub called New Tokyo's was the gay hang out.
The Honch is the honcho street, a.k.a. main street - happens to be Dobuita Street, just a walk across from the main gate of the Yokosuka Navy Base, Yokosuka Japan.

My hair was all long,
it reached my bum, overlapping 2 inches.
Naturally wavy, I straightened it
and sprayed a white streak on the side.
"my look, my art" I thought. Pero NO!
I truly didn't see myself the way others did.
I've always been aware of my cultural makeup.
Just I ignored other people's biases...

That night, I got profiled left and right!

My analogy is that of a vynil record}

Side A.
by a co-worker in Admin.
     I'll call him stupid, because he used to call himself stupid.
     He's actually, a fantastic soul. a Chritian Reverend.
     I admire his spirit.
     At the time, I felt we were friends with different opinions, yet similar points of view.
     We can try to make sense of that.

Side B.
was totally weirded out by a 7-fleet coreman
He always seemed sweet, very Mexican, but never from Mexico.
I discovered that hiding behind his mild manners
was a vato from Chi-town...
He was a little cholillo!
And he was totally tripping out on the way I looked.
I did also happen to be wearing all black, not very much makeup on my face, mind you.

This fucker was so pissed drunk, he started calling me VETERANA.
I was all in my white girl innocent mentality "whaddaya mean? whaddaya mean?".
UGH! LOL
I had no freaking clue, not anyone from El Paso or Los Angeles had ever explained to me...
though I felt the feeling offending me that a Veterana is by urban dictionary defined as an: "Old school hood rat. typically has exagerated hair bangs, drawn-in eyebrows & a dark shade of lipstick and has been around the block a couple of thousand times."

I will admit I have loved wearing black or blue lipstick, but that's a gothic thing, anyway...

His vibe changed to make me feel better}
That dude was all "I Luuuuv youuu, I RESPECT you, cuz you a VETERANA!.
Which his meaning changed to that of a Spanish dictionary meaning:

1   A person of experience in their profession and knowledge of all its long term aspects.

2   Applies to someone of military experience, and deep meanings of life.

3    Applies to someone elder, in age who still practice the same skill and trade as those who are younger.

 

4    A person who has been to war, in combat.

So those are my translations of what I found in an online Castillian dictionary.

Still I didn't really know. I was only about 22 years old. I wasn't Any kind of Veteran - no where near it.

So I couldn't get him to shut up.
Looked him in the eye and said
Honey, thank you, but you are fucking drunk.
You need to get some water and go home!

.....

So to complete today's blog
here's an awesome Beck Video, song is Perdedor/Loser
It has plenty of Spanglish. I forget what album it's from.
So I also recommend the 1996 album Odelay, which when you sound it out is ORALE!!