Sheila wiggled down the streets of London. Her body wading past nationals and people who thought Sheila of the "butch type". Her hair still cropped short in comparison to the women with beautiful hair sprayed coiffures who embodied the lushness of London's, inner circle.
Pushing past street performers in the square following her exactometer, whose ear buds were held in her ea:r telling her directions.
"TURN RIGHT", in the computer's monotone voice.
"TURN LEFT, TURN RIGHT, TURN LEFT." Sheila began to think she was having an argument with herself as the words were hurdled at her: slamming her into into the locals, who uttered that same fanciful phrase, "Excuse me, Excuse me." As if every directional mistake were their fault and not Sheila's. Sheila preferred it that way, she always knew she was the one in the RIGHT. This was the perfect place for ALL That.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
"I can do this, I got this," and the only thing he seemed to got, was his vodka belly: hitting the floor while his head missed his toes and his arms only came to his knees. "Ha ha.... Well let's see what else this Melissa got", he mumbled
Friday, March 16, 2012
Her mom gave away her niece and nephew willingly, that day. Tired, exhausted , she sauntered back to her room, muttering under her breath...
"Mi familia.... Yeah its about time...I can't do this all the time... one of you needs to step in and take care of these kids.... How many hours do I have to break my back at work...and here I am watchin' Jamie's kids.... I'm taking James to school...I'm picking him up at the bus stop. Does anyone care for me.?...No...No.... I need a break, I need to go to the store, I need Jamie to give me some money, I need someone to fix the car, I'm fifty-years-old, I'm done taking care of kids."
Now the kids had a break from the rickety house and its drama, thought Faith. They sat drinking horchata and eating hard shell tacos, plain with just salted beef and side of refried beans and rice. Later that day she'd take her neice and nephew home. Home to her catholic candles, spanish mural towels that hung on the walls like pictures. She'd open her huge, cd book holders, and leaf through the pages picking through their volumes until she landed on her favorite "Cumbia con Reggaetone."
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
By the time they made it to the market, Sandra could have sworn that she had memorized the whole pocket-sized Arabic dictionary. Its three letter, root words, and meanings hanging off her lips and getting caught in the back of her throat like a cough: "Ach, Ach" she said.
Joe said she'd meet them at the market. Sandra hated going back to any place where she had made newspapers reviews but nonetheless, she would shield her face with a napkin, and hide behind Muy's big burka if she had to.
Joe called her once again. "You know, I ain't scared about getting caught by no section 8 police. I mean yeah we had a group of people at my mom's house the other night, but I ain't livin' there or nothin' so they can say all they want. They won't be kicking out my mom that's for sure. "
"What were you doin' there till 2 in the morning?" asked Sandra. Although she probably already knew. Joe loved to make her guests any sort of eggs and rice, or roman, late at night. And they'd sit there and watch Korean Dramas through the whole night.[Korean dramas can often be found on mysoju.com, where they are starred according to popularity and if one can't open the whole movie they usually be found on youtube.com when searching include the language and subtitles] One Korean drama would last at least eight hours, and the loved spilled drama seeped into their hearts, making them continue to watch it, even if it began to hurt their eyes by the wee morning hours. Joe would cook roman noodles and throw in the eggs as the water boiled: creating huge cauldrans of roman and noodles, and then throwing in some hot sauce as an aside.
But what Sandra liked the most was when she made sushi. She had bought her own sushi, rolling mat, along with same seasoning, and sticky rice. And they would get some cheap, sea weed wrappers: artificials at best, and begin rolling them together. Tasting the sour vinegar, seasoned rice, as they rolled it. Loving it all.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
"How did you meet her?" asked Pudji to Derick .
"I met her from this studio on the world wide web, a very underground hip hop class. Meeting her as an instructor I was stunned, she wore gold rings and bling around the neck, a blank baseball cap flipped sideways with a wave cap." Derrick began
reminiscing about Misty's studio...
And then there was the the introduction of the class……..And there was a variety of music that she saved on the computer, illegal downloads.
One assistant director, two young kids, one Asian, one female, and me, in my green shirt and my Tennis shoes, and my hair wrapped up, getting ready for some music in the middle of Uptown.
The music was so load and the dance routine so random, yet put together somehow. Everyone was enthused and pumped up to steps that had no names . The girls were standing in caprice and tight tees, and the boys wore as customary: casual jeans with rubber bands around the ankles. The dance routine was composed of nearly all eight counts. There was some ground work, the toughest kind that you would ever remember . The dancers were impressed by my background poppin' and the warming up to the music.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
"So what man, I'm sick and tired of you chasin' after this woman:Misty, and this dancing, You think she gives a rat's a%# about whether of not she has the greatest dance. Nawww Man, you need to express a little male testosterone." Pudji hesitated, " Now were going to the game and that's all I have to say about that."
Travelling to the game seemed like the most adventurous thing to do. Pudji was listening to gansta rap at the top of the key and both of them tossed comments back and forth together about just how cool Cassidy or Lil Wayne was.
"I need the music loud" Pudji commented, "I need to be an aggressive driver."
Derrick just sat back, this wasn't his show tonight. They were were on First Avenue, as other people were strolling in to the Target Center. Just how fast they could get there, no one seemed to know. All they knew is that they wanted to seem cool, as machine guns blew out of our car, in the latest song. And they rolled up the windows and joked around about how they were listening to gansta' rap.
Pudgi insisted that they howl to the Howl Meter, the Timber wolves latest scheme to get fans to cheer even louder, as fans here in Minnesot, needed more motivation then any other state. Maybe it was "Minnesota Nice", who knew...but the fact that the only time Minnesotans cheered was at a Laker's game or some high competition performance blew the Market's mind, and so ticket sellers boasted this was the best way.
"How ,how, how ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, how, how how ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. " Derrick was getting into the spirit, now, and he seemed to do it with such charm.
"Now that could be us," Pudji said: looking at the cheerleaders on the Timber Wolves team. "I could be one of the NBA players on the Timber Wolves team, and you could be a cheerleader" , he said to Derrick, that of course would be his dream...