Blog2L2
- Carnival Debrief Addendum February 24, 2012 Derek Bridges
- The Carnival Debrief February 23, 2012 Derek Bridges
- Institute for the Study of Carnival Best Practices February 18, 2012 Derek Bridges
- Morpheus February 18, 2012 Derek Bridges
Aphorisms and Avowals
It is good to be awake early in the morning, alone with the evaporating mist of dreams.
Are all dreams apocalyptic? Is all classical music bombastic? Yes and yes.
Yesterday, riding the bicycle at dusk, a brief scent of fire ants.
Among other things, “bombastic” means pompous. “Pompous” means self-important.
True or false: Everything is self-important.
Continue readingIs the dream illegal? Part XI
Cross-posted at My Ongoing Struggle with Misanthropy
Part I/Part II/Part III/Part IV/Part V/Part VI/Part VII/Part VIII/Part IX/Part X
By Angie Sánchez
Early College Education
My college education began in a community college. When I found out that the private college that I was planning on attending was too expensive and could not get the scholarship I started to save money but as I mentioned before 32 hours a week at $6.50 was not going to be enough to pay for it. Someone who worked at the same mall I did asked me what I was planning on doing after high school and I told her that I was going to work until I had enough to pay for the school I wanted to attend. She advised that since it was going to take a while to save up all that money that I should take a couple classes at the community college and then transfer once I… Continue reading
Reading G.V.
It’s Week 2 of the No Television Experiment.
So far, I’ve missed The Beach Boys and Glen Campbell on the Grammy Awards and the midseason premiere of The Walking Dead on AMC.
Those are just the things my friends made sure I knew I’d missed. I was talking to the Ol’ Gunslinger last night on the Hillbilly Communications Network, legendary for the dropped call.
Back in the day, the Ol’ Gunslinger and I loaded our amplifiers in and out of many skeevy nightclubs. He is a wise and wily scoundrel, and, like most musicians, usually having serious fun. He was fired up about seeing Glen Campbell on the Grammy show.
“After his song, Glen Campbell didn’t know the mic was still on, and he said something like, ‘Am I supposed to say something, or just get out of the way?’ It was great.”
Continue readingIs the dream ilegal? Part X
The reason why I began working was so that I could have money of my own and help my dad with some of the bills. That summer I worked as much as possible and I saved a lot of my money. I knew that I wanted to go to college but I did not realize how expensive it was or how I was going to get the money to pay for it. When the school year started and I made an appointment to visit the college I was interested in. The staff there was very welcoming and most of all informative. The adviser I spoke to informed me that I qualified for a $2,000 scholarship and that upon acceptance that scholarship was going to be mine. Unfortunately, I could not receive that scholarship or any other form financial aid because of status. I was devastated, especially since I had been accepted to the school. When this happened I decided that I was going to work extra hard and save up money. At $6.50 an hour I was going to need way more than 32 hours to save up $12,000 per semester.
Continue readingBetween St. Roch and a Hard Place
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Neighbors. Seems I’ve been writing about neighbors one way or another for a little while now. I’ve always told people that I’ve never met friendlier people than reside here in New Orleans. Lately though I’ve found some anomalies in the tapestry of friendliness and neighborliness.
I remember someone telling me a story about a person who had moved into the French Quarter, a lifelong dream. It wasn’t Bourbon Street, I can’t remember exactly where, Dauphine or Burgundy Street perhaps, at any rate off the tourist path for the most part. After a little while they started complaining about the bar across the street, a bar that had been there for decades catering mostly to locals. I couldn’t help but wonder upon hearing that story, if somewhere between the “hey this place has good closet space” and “I’ll sign the lease” they really hadn’t noticed that they were moving in across… Continue reading
Over at the neighbor’s
The February featured artist at B2L2ART is Mark Grote with his "Is it S, or is it Z?" exhibition.
Beautiful Impostor
One day I noticed I was watching Terminator 2: Judgment Day every time it was on.
When you have a couple hundred channels, T2 is on, well, a lot.
So is Spaceballs.
I’d watch two or three movies at the same time. I mixed genres and release dates, mashed up entire schools of cinema. All the stories and visions, mine to control!
This was not scholarly appreciation. This was not DIY film school.
This was a binge, a debauch, a scandal!
Continue readingIs the dream illegal? Part IX
By Angie Sánchez
Employment
I began working the summer before my senior year of school. I worked at the mall at a specialty food store. Since I did not have legal documents to work I had to get some. And that meant getting a fake social security number and a fake Green Card. We went to La Villita which is a predominantly Mexican community in Chicago. All you do is walk down the streets and there are guys walking around asking if you need a Mica (green card). They usually make hand gestures, like holding up their hand as if they were holding a card in their hands. A guy walked by us and we told him we did. He asked what name we wanted on there and if we had a social security number we wanted to use otherwise they make one up for you. I made mine up on the way there. The name on the social security card was different than my real name. The only thing I changed was my last name. I did this because if someone that knew me ever came to my place of employment they wouldn’t address me with a different name than the one on my application. I also did this because if I ever applied for residency and if it showed that I had worked with a fake social they would use that against you. He told me to go to a shop where I was going to have my picture taken for the mica. It was a bridal shop, places where people go to take their pictures range or you can come with your own picture. An hour later we met up with the guy again and he had my social security card and my green card. I could now work “legally.” I paid a total of $150; the prices have gone up since then.
Seafaring Stories from the Sea-green Sea–Part 4
The sales girl was generally pleasant, mild-mannered and dainty. Coming from a long line of sales clerks she had a genetic disposition for friendliness, but strange muscles growled at the back of her neck whenever the sea captain entered the store. There was something about the man that turned all her pink nerves to red and her blue ones to black. His wheeze alone as he counted his change before dropping it on the counter was enough to cause a strange and disconcertingly visible cramping along her forhead.
It was something personal, but she could not say what. The sea captain had never done anything personal to her or anyone she knew. He only bought his ranch dressing, his copper kettle, his poultry. Sometimes he would FedEx a three day old mackeral to an old flame a few cities over. “Love is just a dead fish that hasn’t happened yet,” the captain said and no one quite knew what he meant.
The store manager, coming himself from a long line of store managers, noticed… Continue reading
On The Move
I’ve been a mover lately. I used to be a shaker, which was some kind of fun. Shaker. That brings to mind shaking the earth. Or shaking the dice. Shaking with fear. Fear of shaking.
But now I’m just a mover, and funny how that works out. If you were moving and shaking at the same time, lord knows what would happen.
Mercy! Suddenly there’s lots of stuff to move!
All human possessions fall into three categories, which I am now going to invent: Stuff, Junk, and No Way I’m Tossing That.
Stuff comprises most of what we have. My Stuff is mostly books, papers and clothes. I need my Stuff, but there’s always the danger of having Too Much Stuff. (I’m writing this during a break from packing and moving Stuff, as a matter of fact. Because I have a deadline and I know some of you will be disappointed if I don’t post something today. It is, after all, Friday.)
Continue readingIs the dream illegal? Part VIII
Mojada, part VIII
By Angie Sánchez
At the end of my junior year I finally realized that I was not being challenged so I asked to be placed in higher level classes for the following year. What bothers me is that if I wouldn’t have asked for that I would’ve stayed in the same mediocre classes. I was getting bad grades. I just think I was one student in the masses. Otherwise I would have been moved up a level by sophomore year. The counselor I was assigned in high school was probably the worst any one could ever have. Whenever I would meet with her to choose my classes for the following semester she would never ask me what I was interested in. She would just placed me in the courses that she thought were the most appropriate for me. I never said anything to her because I felt that she knew what she was doing.
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We Drink Pabst Blue Ribbon
The other night I was watching Blue Velvet for the 26th time. I am helpless against the power of Blue Velvet, especially if it’s an uninterrupted (looking at you, IFC), uncensored showing, which this happened to be.
I’m a big fan of David Lynch. Generally speaking, I think Lynch makes movies about The Movies, and that alone would normally be enough to keep me interested. But he also has a terrific imagination and a painter’s eye for color and detail.
Just about everything Lynch has directed, including the oddly successful Twin Peaks television series, is by turns familiar and eerie. It’s hard to identify a tonal baseline in a Lynch film. Things get weird fast, and they just get weirder as the story unfolds.
The landscapes of films like Blue Velvet and Wild at Heart (1990) are relentlessly gorgeous and, well, Lynchian. You know you’ve accomplished something when your last name becomes an adjective. Hats off, sir!
Continue readingIs the dream illegal? Part VII
Cross-posted at My Ongoing Struggle with Misanthropy
Part I/Part II/Part III/Part IV/Part V/Part VI
Mojada, part VII
By Angie Sánchez
By the time I reached high school I was fluent in English, however, I had a little bit of an accent. I knew the language now but I did not know what high school was all about. My parents had no idea what high school was. They knew I was supposed to attend but that is it. I did not realize that high school was going to be big stepping stone into my future. I knew that after High School, College was next and that was it. I learned about college and the possibility of me attending one day through my friend who was a senior at the time and she was taking a course at the community college. She was planning to attend Northern Illinois University. I did not have sufficient information on the classes I needed to take or how important my grade… Continue reading
I hate meeces to pieces
Let me start out by saying I am not a violent man.
Sure, I huff and I puff to blow off a little steam when I get frustrated. When I was in grade school, I thought I invented the F-word. I’ve been using it liberally ever since.
But it takes a lot more to make me want to kill. Around Thanksgiving, I found that reason.
To quote Mr. Jinks, “I hate meeces to pieces.”
It actually began over the summer.
I own a typical Chicago brick two-flat, where the back porch is enclosed with siding. Under our back porch, we have a crawl space with a gravel floor. It is where we store our lawn mower, hoses, a wheel barrow and various pots and gardening supplies. A couple-three times over the summer, I noticed a hole forming around the catch basin in the crawl space and assumed it was erosion. Wishful thinking.
During fall cleanup, Linda opened the lock and caught a mean whiff of rat feces that totally freaked her out. Of… Continue reading
the majesty of the past
the majesty of the past
is a low dollar delusional comfort
that dislocates my attention
while rolling down the street on my bicycle
so that I don’t even notice
the wind in my face
Democracy in Chicago: Medium Rare
I went to bed last Thursday night a citizen of Chicago’s 46th Ward. I rose the next morning a citizen of the 47th. Without moving an inch. I don’t really mind; I’m not upset. For sentimental reasons, I’ll kind of miss having been part of the “Fighting 46th” for all these years – there goes another piece of my misspent youth, etc. But the 47th seems like a perfectly good ward for me. Despite the fact that I don’t have a personal nickname for it yet. I know it will start with the letter “F.” But the rest is undetermined. I’ve already rejected purely laudatory adjectives. No “Fantastic” or “Fabulous.” The “F” word presents itself for consideration, but I think not.
I’d open it up for public suggestions, although that would lack a certain symmetry. Considering that the City Council didn’t ask for any suggestions from members of the public as to which ward they’d like to be in, or how they’d feel about being cartographically uprooted.
If anyone cares about the fact that the… Continue reading
BOB STOP IT
BOB STOP IT from B2 L2 on Vimeo.
Is the dream illegal? Part VI
Mojada, part VI
By Angie Sánchez
The school year ended but I was enrolled in summer school and that summer was great. I made friends both Latino and American. I became friends with two little girls living in the building as us. Imagine they spoke no Spanish and my sister and I spoke no English, but we still managed to have the time our lives. Hanging out with them helped me practice basic English words. But I was still very hesitant and I would avoid using long sentences. My parents kept telling me that I needed to practice the language otherwise they were going to send back to México. At that time I really did not want to go back because I wanted to be here.
Gangsta Red [Updated]
Update: Red has survived another dog attack. Two dogs this time.
Diamond said Red apparently got away from the dogs by taking refuge under a house. Another woman in the neighborhood has taken Red to a veterinarian.
There is talk of relocation and the shaking of heads.
It looks like Washington Avenue has lost its rooster.
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