Tag Archives: Writing

Crazy Talk in Venezuela

 

I haven’t slept at night for over a week. Films, fancy cocktail parties, gay men everywhere and house music, dancing. A beautiful candlelit house sits at the top of a hill a professor with two dogs and a big kitchen inside. Candles because of Venezuela’s rolling power outages. This happened the other day when I was riding the elevator in Ninoska’s building; there was nothing to do but sit inside the pitch black box alone and wait. We’ve been hanging out with Miss Universe 2009 a few days now, we see her at everything. Music falling from the sky.

-Some old crap I dug up. I go on and on about how drunk I got, it’s stupid, so I’ll spare you. Did anyone else see On The Road? How much worse could it have been? I finished my book and will actually publish that zine I mentioned that one time especially since I’m moving away from my stoner household and in with my family on the coast because it’s free and I’ve convinced myself it will magically disable this procrastination mode I’m in.

Actually, I’ve never written so much in my life, but I convince myself I’m lame if I don’t put in ten hours a day, seven days a week #glamorouslifeofthetriverwriter #myopia

Slick & Twisted Trails

DSC_0405 by bani amor
Check out my new piece on Slick & Twisted trails about Cajas National Park in Ecuador. OK? Thanks. Here’s some lavender. Happy weekend!

Neither Here Nor There

After being admitted to the hospital twice in two days for my fourth intestinal infection in Life, I ate three cloves of garlic and smoked a cigarette, which is what you should do if you come down with this abroad*.
Last night, instead of editing or pitching I left my fate up to the internet and so began searching for meaning in my astrological birth chart. Here are some fucked up/funny insights.
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You have a serious view of the world as being a difficult place to be in.
It is so completely natural for you to accept that there is more to the world than what is before your eyes, that you tend to presume everyone must be spiritually-inclined. Of course, you come to realize that this is not the case at some early point in your life.
You are not much scared of anything.
You have a taste for splendor.
Delights in exposing what she deems biases in others’ way of thinking.
You enjoy shocking others with your offbeat, original thoughts.
You seem to go out of your way to form relationships with those who are weak, sick, injured, addicted or troubled in some way or other.
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In other news, the Zine page is up, so you have no excuse not to buy a bazillion copies of the first issue.
*not entirely true.

Ghetto Shit and The Altar of Advancement

“I modeled Yunior clearly on my own experience as an immigrant kid growing up in NJ. That binary…of home/failure or away/success—I grew up with that shit all around me, the Scylla and Charybdis of my childhood. On one side you had the escape narrative that insisted that the only way out of economic social deprivation—the only way to advance, to make something of yourself—was to abandon your community and build a life exclusively in the larger (whiter) world (as if the reason one is poor and marginalized is because of one’s community). A narrative that was on me particularly hard as an immigrant, as a kid who had been designated as “smart.”  The idea that I would maintain any loyalty to my broke-ass landfill neighborhood once I got to college was considered on all sides as pretty absurd. (Clearly I understand the desire to escape insecurity and hostile material conditions, but I don’t agree you need to erase the past that made you possible to do so. Any success that requires you to sacrifice your younger self over the altar of Advancement is no success at all—at least not to me.)”New Orleans, LA by bani amor
“As an immigrant and an honors student (before I got kicked out of that track senior year) and as a kid who grew up deep in the neighborhood, I had both narratives on me to an oppressive degree. And felt a lot of pressure to choose one side or another: to either embrace home like mad or reject it like mad. Of course within each choice was embedded a whole set of expectations. If you stay at home, don’t talk too much about books, don’t try to get motherfuckers to engage in “intellectual’ discussions,” don’t talk about an ethnic studies course you took or the study abroad you did in Japan. Same thing: if you go away to say college, don’t dwell too much on race and certainly not on how racialized poverty and class are in this country. Don’t mention white supremacy. Keep your ghetto shit to yourself.”
“Over time I became very aware that people had a lot invested in you choosing sides. You had to choose one or the other but not both, not neither. Complexity was out of the question. Multiple loyalties were another way of saying betrayal. I eventually realized that these bipolar choices were not only ridiculous, they would also require me to jettison the essence of who I am. My multiplicity, my complexity, my simultaneity.”
-Junot Diaz. Read the Rumpus interview in it’s entirety here. Photo taken in New Orleans, LA 2008.