Sunday, February 28, 2010

This is for my student, Jo...........

Because she plays with her shadow at recess.
Because she builds cinnamon houses in her head.
Because all her houses are empty.
Because she was born in the valley of crystal meth.
Because she tells me she wants a "god blanket."
Because she thinks orange light is sleepy.
Because she spent two years in first grade and she still can't read.
Because she came to my classroom a month ago.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010


The recession hits home.

My school district's proposal:

A 4% salary pay cut.
171 teachers are going to be without jobs next school year.
Eight furlough days (employees take days off without pay).
Increase class size (from 20 students to 31 students).

I went to my first protest today. I'm tired. I should go to bed. My day starts at 4:30 am tomorrow.


Fuck you, Arnold!

(i'm sorry for venting)

Monday, February 15, 2010

Little Demons

We spent Sunday in Santa Barbara. We visited an antique shop and looked at old postcards and black and white photographs of dead white folks. We didn’t see Mexicans. We have difficulty leaving the dead.

We visited book stores too and I walked away from Roberto Bolaño’s 2666 and Robert Crumb’s illustrated version of The Book Of Genesis. I wasn’t ready. I need to finish Cormac McCarthy's The Road and end my secret affair with J.M. Coetzee's short stories.

I took my camera to Santa Barbara and I made an attempt to photograph a stranger’s face. My hands shook. I sweated. It scared me to invade a stranger’s privacy. I was terrified when the stranger noticed the camera pointing at her. Most of the photographs came out blurry and shitty. Strangely, when I looked at the result, I felt a perverse pleasure. I felt like I had stolen something valuable. I stole a second from a stranger’s life.

Little demons woke me up early this morning.

(I saw this video on clock without hands and immediately liked it. Thank you Marcine M.)

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Gifts From My Father

My father left a deciduous forest in my bedroom.
He left a pair of red mittens on my bed.
A compass. A church bell. An empty birdcage.

He left three jars filled with dreams. They were all my dreams. My father had been meticulously collecting them since I was four. I broke two jars already.

One day he left a boat. It had some words from a Peter Gabriel song.

Lets take the boat out
Wait until darkness
Let's take the boat out
Wait until darkness comes

( I was inspired by canto de caza's post. Thank you, bichito. Thank you, Peter Gabriel).

Friday, February 5, 2010

noche de rana

Había una rana en nuestra cama. Sentimos el pequeño anfibio entre las sábanas. No nos preocupamos. No había lluvia de ranas. No estabamos en una novela de Garcia Márquez.

El mundo no se acababa.

Sacamos a la ranita por la ventana. Ella regreso a su jardin y nosotros a nuestra cama.

Esa noche Todavia y yo soñamos 20 mil dias juntos.

(Many years ago we rented a vacation rental in Tepoztlan, Mexico. The house was called Casa Ana. This was our second night together..ever).