Un día espere mucho para verte

Un día espere mucho para verte

Y cuando quise

Ya no volviste

Dicen unos que tu Aventura

Es tu ritmo

Pero yo me imagino el ritmo de la descomposición

La del cuerpo

Que poco a poco va empolvesiendose para volver a ser

Algo que todavía ya no se cual creer.

Una estrella,

Un paraíso,

Un infierno,

No se cual…

Un día quise pasar tardes

Pelando naranjas o granadas

Desmoronando y saboreando

Las copas, platicas, vistas…

Dicen unos que

Una estrella,

Un paraíso,

Un infierno,

No se cual…

ya me piratié

Fuerte, que tu peso se siente en mis ojos,
Que tu beso se antoja en mis codos.
Fuerte.
Y sin tu titulo y con el mío nos inventamos solos

Y la tarde se energiza
Y la noche se llena de tu risa
Y yo solo quiero tu sonrisa

Porque en tu vida y la mía
No hay espacio
Ni hay prisas

talk talk

I tell my self, -What good do you do!- Convince myself. It's my life...don't you forget.

$3.00 for GAS

I hear we are going to hit close to $3.00 a gallon by the end of summer. Want gasoline prices to come down? We need to take some intelligent, united action. Phillip Hollsworth, offered this good idea: This makes MUCH MORE SENSE than the "don't buy gas on a certain day" campaign that was going around last April or May! The oil companies just laughed at that because they knew we wouldn't continue to "hurt" ourselves by refusing to buy gas. It was more of an inconvenience to us than it was a problem for them. BUT, whoever thought of this idea, has come up with a plan that can really work. Please read it and join with us! By now you're probably thinking gasolina priced at about $1.50 is super cheap. Me too! It is currently $2.75 for regular unleaded in my town. Now that the oil companies and the OPEC nations have conditioned us to think that the cost of a gallon of gas is CHEAP at $1.50-$1.75, we need to take aggressive action to teach them that BUYERS control the marketplace.... not sellers. With the price of gasoline going up more each day, we consumers need to take action. The only way we are going to see the price of gas come down is if we hit someone in the pocketbook by not purchasing their gas! And we can do that WITHOUT hurting ourselves. How? Since we all rely on our cars,! We can't just stop buying gas. But we CAN have an impact on gas prices if we all act together to force a price war. Here's the idea: For the rest of this year, DON"T purchase ANY gasoline from the two biggest companies (which now are one), EXXON and MOBIL. If they are not selling any gas, they will be inclined to reduce their prices. If they reduce their prices, the other companies will have to follow suit. But to have an impact, we need to reach literally millions of Exxon and Mobil gas buyers. It's really simple to do!! Now, don't whimp(sic)out on me at this point... keep reading and I'll explain how simple it is to reach millions of people!! I am sending this note to about thirty people. If each of you send it to at least ten more(30 x 10 = 300)...and those 300 send it to at least ten more (300 x 10 =3,000)...and so on, by the time the message reaches the sixth generation of people, we will have reached over THREE MILLION consumers! If those three million get excited and pass this on to ten friends each, then 30 million people will have been contacted! If it goes one level further, you guessed it...THREE HUNDRED MILLION PEOPLE! Again, all you have to do is send this to 10 people and DON'T purchase ANY gasoline from EXXON and MOBIL (that includes Chevron). That's all. How long would all that take? If each of us sends this email out to ten more people within one day of receipt, all 300 MILLION people could conceivably be contacted within the next 8 days!!! I'll bet you didn't think you and I had that much potential, did you! Acting together we can make a difference. If this makes sense to you, please pass this message on. EXXON AND MOBIL gas isn't any better than the other brands out there.

rumbo a casa...

[¿Será imposible perder el rumbo? Todo esta perfectamente indicado, se mide un ¼ de milla con unos cuantos minutos, sencillo, ¿no? Todo perfectamente alumbrado: velocidad calculada para distraer al animal (léase migra/placa), desfiles de letreros de seguridad, traileros cantando al compás de la oleada de viento que bailotea en mi cara (que me mantiene despierta y desesperada (me gusta aprovecharme de mi oído (es útil cuando te estas quedando ciega (éste paréntesis es mi favorito (pero me gustó más Madrid (si esto fuera un spread de Excel, estos () serían la formula exacta para resolver mis problemas de desvío(la columna 13 ya no es de suerte))))))). Todas las salidas resaltadas y listas para guiarte con luz verde o roja. Siempre me toca la roja (color de labios sin besos).]

+

[desentendidos insoportables]

=

LA VIDA DE UNA DESEMPLEADA

El racismo en las escuelas sabe a café con llaves.

Sobre vivencia: el café.
Hoy se me cayeron las llaves del salón de cómputo en el café. Lo bueno fue que ya había abierto el salón. Lo malo fue que se rompió el llavero de patito de hule. Ya no me podré tomar mi café. Lo intente pero me supo a llaves y ahora mi estomago me reclama.

Acción subversiva: Hoy empiezan los exámenes estatales decretados por el estado y escritos por unos cuantos miembros de la elite racista de este país. En mis clases de historia suspendimos las lecciones de la semana pasada para dedicarla a preparar a los alumnos para el examen.

Vibras negativas: Los exámenes estatales están diseñados para que nuestros alumnos, semi-bilingües, ni de aquí ni de allá, no pasen estos exámenes, por que no los entienden- están en inglés. Aquí todos hablamos español o tagalo o vietnamés o inglés afro-americano, y sí hay uno que otro gringuito que sé sabe comunicar en español.

Amenazas: Sí la escuela no mejora los resultados de estos exámenes, entonces vendrá el Governator y sus cromies a tomar la escuela. No más deportes, arte, música, español, tagalo, ballet folklórico. Reducirán las clases de ciencias sociales y naturales y aumentaran las clases de inglés y las matemáticas.

Depresión: ¿Cuándo viene el cambio? ¿Qué, nadie se da cuenta que las necesidades de nuestros alumnos son otras? ¿Cómo van a decidir que nuestros alumnos no sirven con sólo rellenar circulítos por toda una semana?

...

¿Es un juego?
El juego de búsquenme y no me encuentren. ¿o entonces qué es esto?

Creo que ya nadie te busca.
Ya nadie te olvida...

Estamos listos para tu regreso.
Sería una llegada inesperada. ¿qué no es eso lo que buscabas?
La inesperanza, así le pondremos a este juego.

El consejo más estúpido de maestra a maestra

-Focus on those that get it…why waste your energy on those you will never get to. It’s too
frustrating, save your energy.

Atención:

voz que la buscas ante un público vacío
(dedos que se secan sin los tuyos)
pupilas volteadas al chisme del asiento de atrás
(cintura sin el roce de tu abrazo)
tareas olvidadas
(globos olvidados)

-¡Quiero hacer conecciónes entre el currículum y la vida de los estudiantes con proyectos reales!- Y me contesta -Utiliza metáforas-

Fui a la tienda y compré sellitos para las tareas, calcetas para zapatillas, y sopas instantáneas.

Buscaba comprar algo para contener la atención; un remedio para curar la embriaguez del sistema educativo que nos mastica el razonamiento; una bebida refrescante que mate la desigualdad. Pero no estaba…el capitalismo y la normalización escolar no ofrecen ofertas para las necesidades escolásticas.

Tampoco se podrá hacer ninguna gráfica en la cual se demuestre como las demandas comunitarias se están satisfaciendo por el distrito escolar: primero, por que no hay demandas (aquí nadie tiene voz,y si surge se tapa con un poco de detención o tutoría mandatoria), segundo porque según el sistema, la escuela no es parte de la comunidad, y por lo tanto no se relacionan las necesidades de una con la otra, y tercero, porque no, porque ya son más de quinientos años de que aquí no pasa nada, y no se oye nada.

Saldré entonces, con mis lecciones grabadas en mi mente, en el libro de planes, pero no encontrare soluciones, ni cambios. Eso no se compra…y ni siquiera se piensa aquí.

NOT ONE DAMN DIME DAY - THURSDAY, JAN. 20, 2005.

NOT ONE DAMN DIME DAY - THURSDAY, JAN. 20, 2005.THIS is how we can make our dissent felt.You save money AND you express your dissent against the warNot One Damn Dime Day - Jan 20, 2005Since our leaders will not speak out against the war in Iraq, since no one has the moral courage to oppose it, Inauguration Day, Thursday, January 20th, 2005 is "Not One Damn Dime Day" in America.On "Not One Damn Dime Day" those who oppose what is happening in our name in
Iraq can speak up with a 24-hour national boycott of all forms of consumer
spending.
During "Not One Damn Dime Day" please don't spend money. Not one damn dime
for gasoline. Not one damn dime for necessities or for impulse purchases.
Not one damn dime for nothing for 24 hours.
On "Not One Damn Dime Day," please boycott Wal-Mart, Kmart, Target...
Please don't go to the mall or the local convenience store. Please don't buy
any fast food (or any groceries at all for that matter).
For 24 hours, please do what you can to shut the retail economy down.
The object is simple. Remind the people in power that the war in Iraq is
immoral and illegal; that they are responsible for starting it and that it
is their responsibility to stop it.
"Not One Damn Dime Day" is to remind them, too, that they work for the
people of the United States of America, not for the international
corporations and K Street lobbyists who represent the corporations
and funnel cash into American politics.
"Not One Damn Dime Day" is about supporting the troops. Now 1,200 brave
young Americans and an estimated 100,000 Iraqis have died. The politicians
owe our troops a plan-- a way to come home.
There's no rally to attend. No marching to do. No left or right wing agenda
to rant about. On "Not One Damn Dime Day" you take action by doing nothing.
You open your mouth by keeping your wallet closed. For 24 hours, nothing
gets spent, not one damn dime, to remind our religious leaders and our
politicians of their moral responsibility to end the war in Iraq and give
America back to the people.
Please share this email with as many people as possible

Hay un miedo siniestro que invade sus ojos.
-Me nubla la vista, me roba el sueño, me da vertigo. Tengo miedo.-
Me perdi por un momento, ya no quize presensiar como el miedo lo invade.
Y me pregunto si las reses, cuando tienen la mirada de muerte, mientras esperan ser fileteadas en el rastro, se sienten igual que un humano con alto colesterol y azúcar, con miedo a la muerte.

EL MANIFIESTO THE LA POCHA

I’m thinking in English, but first I have to think in Spanish and then translate into English so that I can think in English and then speak and write in English. But it’s just not working. I’m writing in English and sounding like I'm speaking in Spanish. But when I speak, with an accent, I speak like if I’m thinking in English. And wherever and whenever I speak, and write, I don’t sound like I’m supposed to.

Is it a coincidence that I’m linguistically oppressed because I’m bilingual?

I don’t think so! I speak a new language, a language that has our own rules of grammar. We don’t need your rules, especially the weird ass English grammar rules. We are doing fine with out you. Especially when in our reality, we are not really allowed to be part of your educational system. The majority of us that make it, have to struggle at least twice as much as you mono-culturists. We are the rejected ones. So call me pocha. I don’t mind.

Hoy esta aquí un maestro Yoreme. –Hoy 12 de Octubre, el día que Colón descubrio que se perdió.- Y los jovenes se rien.

Lila Downs en concierto

Ayer te buscaba en la esquina del metro Quevedo, en línea, en la casa de Lizette, en el identificador de llamadas. Hoy te encontré.

–Me voy para mi tierra natal.-

Gracias por arruinar mi regalo de cumpleaños, el feeling de Lila Downs, mis recorridos mentales mientras manejo por la carretera. Tenía tanto que decirte. Había un aire de miedo que me envolvía. Y te vas. Ya no te busco, ya no me encuentres: en la barra preferida, en estas líneas, en conversaciones ajenas, en largas distancias, en otro continente. Ya regrese a mi hábitat natural (con mi osita, mis tortillas, frijoles, nopales y chilito, mi motita fresca (hash vale madres) mis colores azules, my friends, my accent, my people, my students). Me siento segura.

Ando picando la vida...

me gasto las horas por ti

A Poem to Americans by a Palestinian Youth

Eye to Eye By: Gihad Ali

Look into my eyes
And tell me what you see
You don't see a damn thing,
'cause you can't possibly relate to me.
You're blinded by our differences.
My life makes no sense to you.
I'm the persecuted Palestinian.
You are the American red, white and blue.
Each day you wake in tranquility.
No fears to cross your eyes.
Each day I wake in gratitude.
Thanking God he let me rise.
You worry about your education
And the bills you have to pay.
I worry about my vulnerable life
And if I'll survive another day.
Your biggest fear is getting ticketed
As you cruise your Cadillac.
My fear is that the tank that just left
Will turn around and come back.
America, do you realize,
That the taxes that you pay
Feed the forces that traumatize
My every living day?
The bulldozers and the tanks,
The gases and the guns,
The bombs that fall outside my door,
All due to American funds.
Yet do you know the truth
Of where your money goes?
Do you let your media deceive your mind?
Is this a truth that no one knows?
You blame me for defending myself
Against the ways of Zionists
I'm terrorized in my own land
And I'm the terrorist?
You think that you know all about terrorism
But you don't know it the way I do.
So let me define the term for you.
And teach you what you thought you knew.
I've known terrorism for quite some time,
Fifty- four years and more.
It's the fruitless garden uprooted in my yard.
It's the bulldozer in front of my door.
Terrorism breathes the air I breathe.
It's the checkpoint on my way to school.
It's the curfew that jails me in my own home,
And the penalties of breaking that curfew rule.
Terrorism is the robbery of my land.
And the torture of my mother.
The imprisonment of my innocent father.
The bullet in my baby brother.
So America, don't tell me you know about
The things I feel and see.
I'm terrorized in my own land
And the blame is put on me.
But I will not rest, I shall never settle
For the injustice my people endure.
Palestine is OUR land and there we'll remain
Until the day OUR homeland is secure.
And if that time shall never come,
Then they will never see a day of peace.
I will not be thrown from my own home,
Nor will fight for justice cease.
And if I am killed, it will be for Falasteen.
It's written on my breath.
So in your own patriotic words,
Give me liberty or give me death.

estoy bien aunque ya es tiempo de calorsito.

shout out: Lizette por su investigacion sobre "los derechos" de las mujeres en el periodo colonial. (Berkeley)

Adios San Francisco!

Quiero subirme a una motaña rusa contigo
Brincar arriba de tu cama
Ir caminado al Thai
Respirar humito rico de tu boca
Despertar con tu voz
Estirarme mientras tocas tu musiquita…
Hasta llegar rellenar eso vacios.