One
There are billions of tiny specks
Across a studded gloss sky
Black in hue
But with a blue and red glow
Might one travel alone?
Two
Speed fast on each trail
No sense of gravity or time
No second to take a breath
Each light breeds Inertia
How might we come back?
Three
Rest blanket across the moon
So perhaps someone exists
Rest back on hollow void
Ones mind paints such stories
Can we stay a bit longer?
Four
Veracious tales lie and wait
Deep within these stars
Alive for centuries
Whispering words resembling the past
May we hear your history?
Five
Looking back keeps memories juxtaposed
Reciprocal from the time-line
But ready to unfold
May we sleep amongst you?
Where our home once was
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Inside Story on Stories: "The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao"--Junot Diaz
I am going to start reviewing books I read over the course of the rest of my life, probably, if I can stay consistent. Just a little insight on some reads, what it is about and if it is worth your time. Just to give some insights as to what is out there, new and old. If your like me, then you know how hard it is to know what to read. There is so much out there! So I am offering you my help. Your welcome!
The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao in a nutshell is about an obese Dominican boy who is attempting to succeed in getting laid and being accept in his school, town, family, and life in general. What is stopping him is not only a curse that has infected his family, fuku, but also his nerdy obsession with science-fiction, anime, and novels--many could relate I imagine. That is one reason I liked this novel, how many could relate to Oscar helped connect with the problems he faced. And Diaz paints Oscar as a pathetic, worthless nobody who will not amount to anything. But, this is not just a coming to age tale. Diaz writes the piece in an outsiders perspective, Oscar's sisters on and off boyfriend, who adapts Oscar's voice, crass, nerdy, and obscene at times. Diaz begins by explaining the history of the Dominican Republic, a country which is one of the main tensions of the story. So much happens there involving Oscar's family, from murders, rapes, deaths, beatings, and the like. Diaz jumps from person to person, enveloping numerous family members of Oscars in order for the reader to hear their story. We invest a lot of time within other members of the family, so much so I almost forgot about Oscar towards the end. Diaz utilizes vivid descriptions of the areas he speaks of and has a vast knowledge of his countries past. It is interesting in some respects, but also a bit distracting. I found myself skipping over some of his facts due to their length and disconnection from the story. That's one problem I had with the tale. I wasn't too invested with Oscar towards the end, since most of the middle is explaining the other members history, attempting to yield evidence towards their families "curse," but it distracted instead of helped. His characters are very deep though. From Beli, the tough mom with a frightening past, to Lola, the equally tough daughter with an unbreakable bound with her suicidal brother. Oscar wants to get laid. He feels like that is his life goal due to the ridiculous legacy Dominican men hold. He yearns for it so much that it becomes insatiable towards the end. Not wanting to ruin anything I will move on. I enjoyed this novel. It is very intriguing in the way Diaz writes, the stories he weaves, and the vibrant landscapes he engulfs the reader in. It is original in that way, in regards to language. But, it falls flat in the end. Very anti-climatic. I re-read thinking I missed something, but it is due to the lingering narrative voice that attempts to explain more once the main conflict was resolved. It felt like it was dragging on. All in all, I would read it again. If not for the dorky, nerdy tones and amazing settings, but for the realization that getting laid is one thing that all men seem to face in their lives. Till death, and it makes me wonder, is it worth it?
The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao in a nutshell is about an obese Dominican boy who is attempting to succeed in getting laid and being accept in his school, town, family, and life in general. What is stopping him is not only a curse that has infected his family, fuku, but also his nerdy obsession with science-fiction, anime, and novels--many could relate I imagine. That is one reason I liked this novel, how many could relate to Oscar helped connect with the problems he faced. And Diaz paints Oscar as a pathetic, worthless nobody who will not amount to anything. But, this is not just a coming to age tale. Diaz writes the piece in an outsiders perspective, Oscar's sisters on and off boyfriend, who adapts Oscar's voice, crass, nerdy, and obscene at times. Diaz begins by explaining the history of the Dominican Republic, a country which is one of the main tensions of the story. So much happens there involving Oscar's family, from murders, rapes, deaths, beatings, and the like. Diaz jumps from person to person, enveloping numerous family members of Oscars in order for the reader to hear their story. We invest a lot of time within other members of the family, so much so I almost forgot about Oscar towards the end. Diaz utilizes vivid descriptions of the areas he speaks of and has a vast knowledge of his countries past. It is interesting in some respects, but also a bit distracting. I found myself skipping over some of his facts due to their length and disconnection from the story. That's one problem I had with the tale. I wasn't too invested with Oscar towards the end, since most of the middle is explaining the other members history, attempting to yield evidence towards their families "curse," but it distracted instead of helped. His characters are very deep though. From Beli, the tough mom with a frightening past, to Lola, the equally tough daughter with an unbreakable bound with her suicidal brother. Oscar wants to get laid. He feels like that is his life goal due to the ridiculous legacy Dominican men hold. He yearns for it so much that it becomes insatiable towards the end. Not wanting to ruin anything I will move on. I enjoyed this novel. It is very intriguing in the way Diaz writes, the stories he weaves, and the vibrant landscapes he engulfs the reader in. It is original in that way, in regards to language. But, it falls flat in the end. Very anti-climatic. I re-read thinking I missed something, but it is due to the lingering narrative voice that attempts to explain more once the main conflict was resolved. It felt like it was dragging on. All in all, I would read it again. If not for the dorky, nerdy tones and amazing settings, but for the realization that getting laid is one thing that all men seem to face in their lives. Till death, and it makes me wonder, is it worth it?
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Don’t drink the water in Chicago, since it is all from the Chicago River and that River is Fucking Disgusting.
Don’t drink the water in Chicago, since it is all from the Chicago River and that River is Fucking Disgusting.
Look at you! What a pathetic sight you are!
Putrid pig heads rolled into you, dirtying your body.
The destroyed stock yards. Pitiful.
Stale odor of swine carcasses. Troupes of Meat.
I can hear it!—they scream, those swine!
Calais hands. Sweat. Sadness. Long hours.
Legal adduction of homes—go somewhere else!
Kikes. Spikes. Poles. Potato Farmers.
They used their arms, their eyes guided by guile.
Sinclair was right,
You are a shit stain on Chicago History.
Remember, you were riddled with hate,
Remember, you were hiding bodies of minorities,
Remember, you were a caldron for the lowly working-class.
You reek!
Smelling like fowl dog urine,
Or dead fucking fish filled with maggots.
The wind fans your stench across Bridgeport,
A place filled with workers, dwellers, survivors.
The Irish dug you up
and
you spit them out.
You bitch!
Not worrying about 12-hour days.
No Vacation. No breaks. No pay raise.
It isn’t the beautiful Democracy.
You Fool!
They point their heads away
And for good reason!
Ass smells better than you.
You cut through the city like a black vein.
Weaving wearingly. Intrepidly sloshing.
like tar pulling in its victims.
From the Magnificent Mile I pause.
You can’t hide!
O’ no. The people remember what
you did.
But why do you gleam green?
Cause men shit in you.
Why does life die around you?
Cause your water fucks up earth.
Why can’t I avoid you?
Cause your poignant aroma is everywhere.
If I swam in you I’d drown!
Bogged down by legions of sewage and muck.
If I drank you I’d choke!
My throat would gag and seize for air.
The Suns sharp rays are void within your surface.
The Moons shine purples the gentle murmurs of death.
Animals dive, but can’t find anything alive. Striving
within a robust city that ignores the cry. I’ve been
viewing it from bridges, beaches, piers.
Realizing
It’s not you.
No. No. No. No.
You were once clean.
A dream among travelers.
But. But.
Smugglers, gamblers, politicians.
They mutated you.
Yes.
They stirred hatred.
Those racist fucks!
You didn’t know.
Innocent. I swear. Innocent.
It’s the men who made you.
It is man who made you.
You poor fool…
Look at you! What a pathetic sight you are!
Putrid pig heads rolled into you, dirtying your body.
The destroyed stock yards. Pitiful.
Stale odor of swine carcasses. Troupes of Meat.
I can hear it!—they scream, those swine!
Calais hands. Sweat. Sadness. Long hours.
Legal adduction of homes—go somewhere else!
Kikes. Spikes. Poles. Potato Farmers.
They used their arms, their eyes guided by guile.
Sinclair was right,
You are a shit stain on Chicago History.
Remember, you were riddled with hate,
Remember, you were hiding bodies of minorities,
Remember, you were a caldron for the lowly working-class.
You reek!
Smelling like fowl dog urine,
Or dead fucking fish filled with maggots.
The wind fans your stench across Bridgeport,
A place filled with workers, dwellers, survivors.
The Irish dug you up
and
you spit them out.
You bitch!
Not worrying about 12-hour days.
No Vacation. No breaks. No pay raise.
It isn’t the beautiful Democracy.
You Fool!
They point their heads away
And for good reason!
Ass smells better than you.
You cut through the city like a black vein.
Weaving wearingly. Intrepidly sloshing.
like tar pulling in its victims.
From the Magnificent Mile I pause.
You can’t hide!
O’ no. The people remember what
you did.
But why do you gleam green?
Cause men shit in you.
Why does life die around you?
Cause your water fucks up earth.
Why can’t I avoid you?
Cause your poignant aroma is everywhere.
If I swam in you I’d drown!
Bogged down by legions of sewage and muck.
If I drank you I’d choke!
My throat would gag and seize for air.
The Suns sharp rays are void within your surface.
The Moons shine purples the gentle murmurs of death.
Animals dive, but can’t find anything alive. Striving
within a robust city that ignores the cry. I’ve been
viewing it from bridges, beaches, piers.
Realizing
It’s not you.
No. No. No. No.
You were once clean.
A dream among travelers.
But. But.
Smugglers, gamblers, politicians.
They mutated you.
Yes.
They stirred hatred.
Those racist fucks!
You didn’t know.
Innocent. I swear. Innocent.
It’s the men who made you.
It is man who made you.
You poor fool…
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