Thursday, February 26, 2009

Ambivalent Rambling

- Gandhi once said, “An eye for an eye and the world will be blind.” At least half the world must be blind, or at least near-sighted by now. Funny how we’ve even made it this far.

- “Look before you leap” said the man atop the Golden Gate. And then he leapt, didn’t see much on the way down but at least he looked.

- How does the bus driver time his stops? Everyday, same spot same time. He must have a good watch. When the fate of others relies on his skill as a driver one can assume that the pressure of the deepest ocean must be resting on his shoulders, yet he remains cool as a Sea Cucumber.

- Funny how one can be starved for conversation and surrounded by people but never raise one’s head. There must be someone else here just as eager to discuss the day’s events.

- Steve Jobs tells everyone he’s sick and then all of a sudden so is Apples stock price.

- It’s even more amusing how someone can be arrested and face a decade of jail time for a hydroponic garden yet the man on top who gambles retirement funds and carelessly pissed away money on hookers can get away with a lesser punishment, maybe you just need to know the right people. Whatever, who cares about other people anyways as long as I get my food on time.

- Sometimes dreaming of misfortune is enough to turn a mans life around, when awake gasping for breath thanking g-d in heaven that it wasn’t real, one is the must vulnerable and the most prone to change. Begin your quest to never let that dream come true.

- Sometimes when she changes lanes, I grip the handle. I know she never looks. Then again you can’t think much, my life and hers rests on her ability as a driver. This is how we choose to spend our day, with each other. If we were to die together then I guess it wouldn’t be so bad.

- Where exactly is there a transition from pictures to text? When is the proper time for a young man to give up glossy pages for plain text? I don’t care I read graphic novels and comic books, will the boy even really become a man then? Sometimes the only way to go about things is to find a middle ground because one way or the other doesn’t work. I’d rather be happy than fake happiness.

- Vinyl is so much better than any form of recorded music, to hear the cracks and pops in the record is to know that nothing remains pure but the elegance is still overwhelming. The music is still there and it sounds better than ever. As the record twists, 33 and a third, I look at you and we enjoy the moment. This record is older than us both and yet still very much effective.

- “The best things in life are free”, this is absolutely true especially considering it only takes two people two minutes under a blanket to affirm the fact. Dinner and a movie optional.

- One time, I saw a man carrying what looked like nun chucks in his briefcase on the subway. One thing I learned from this man was you have to be prepared for whatever life will throw at you, even if it’s a ninja. You always need to be ready to fight off a ninja.

- To always look on the bright side of life is to risk losing your eyesight.

- Sometimes, life’s mundane tasks can be most depressing. I passed a homeless man with a well-made sign and a lady trying to lug a stroller up the stairs on the way down to the subterranean underworld. Can’t help everyone, right?

- Elliott Smith was ‘in love with the world, through the eyes of a girl.’ So much so that one little argument led to the end of his life, by his own hand. His connection to this world was sharply severed the moment they began to argue.

- Young love should be cherished because we’re all getting older.

The most popular song requested by the dying to be played at their funeral is, “Always look on the bright side of life” from Monty Python’s “Life of Brian.” This cements my faith in fellow humans. Stay positive and live your life looking towards the bright side but careful, pause for a moment and close your eyes, lest you go blind.

Mr. Tambourine Man

Sofy Dzhanashvili
02/26/09
English 211W
Professor Henkle


Mr. Tambourine Man



According to Webster, the word cope [kohp] is “to face and deal with responsibilities, problems, or difficulties, esp. successfully or in a calm or adequate manner.”


You: The Science Times, Dylan, stubbornness, vodka on the rocks and documentaries.


Use a filter.


For a scrapbook: photographs, album, markers, page protectors, scissors, stickers, themes, ect.


“Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.”


Step #2: Avoid Negative Behavior. Don’t start drinking or using drugs to cope with a loss. This is not a good route.

'87 Chevy Nova.

Me: soy-milk lattes, imagination, Viktor Frankl and a giant book of crossword puzzles.


January 15th, 2004: Russel Crowe is an asshole in person, especially at Miami International Airport. Does not take pictures.

Conviction: Driving Without Due Care and Attention, 6 points, and a $380 fine.

Existential psychotherapy and “those who have a ‘why’ to live for can bear almost any ‘how.”


Pack tightly.


For indie-films and documentaries: Angelika theatre on Houston. For some sweet surrealist art: Dali exhibit at the MoMA.


Self-righteousness can get one through anything.

Step #5: Stay Active. It is very important to stay active even though all you want to do is sit on the couch, watch sad movies and eat ice cream all day long.

You: Brick, road-trips, anger, Johny Cash, deadly car accidents, vegan restaurants and Raleigh, North Carolina.

Also for cope, “synonyms: wrestle, strive, persevere.”

The arching and twisting of shadows.

Helen F. Dalton and Associates: “Personal Injury Auto Accident Checklist- Document Your Pain and Suffering Claim.”

Step #7: Put Things into Perspective. Let yourself bla bla bla know that while your disappointment bla bla bla feels bad, this kind of thing happens to everyone in life bla bla bla.

August 19th, 2006: Jack Johnson concert. Heinekens, aviators, mellow acoustics and a ring.
Me: frozen yogurt, Nietzsche, immigration, surviving car accidents, folk music and introversion.

Use it in a sentence: "Facing unprecedented problems, the Federal Reserve of the early 1930s couldn't cope."

Save the stems.

Mental Rush

How's Brazil? Hot; Well I'm freezing; Yeah, your choice; I guess you’re right, when do you come back? May; I miss you; I love you; I'll call you later, I have class in 20 minutes; Ok bye. A quick online conversation is all it took. I knew he was mad. I should have gone to Brazil with him. What about college? There are plenty prestigious ones there. I love New York City. You never lived with me. People deserve a second chance. Not everyone; Eva doesn't and she never will. How could she lie to everyone's face and manipulate a situation that would inevitably cause one's own solitude? Worthless bitch. Die. Poor Teresa didn't deserve half the humiliation. I didn't deserve over a year of rejection; fake rejection created by a heartless bitch; more like an insecure whore. Breathe; your thoughts cause your feelings. Think happy thoughts.
It is extremely tiring to be happy all the time. My mother begs to differ and she strongly sticks to her knowledge that your body uses more muscles to frown than to smile. I honestly don't care. Say Cheese! God, I hate taking my sister to Chuck E Cheese. I wonder if the person who thought of the idea of parents bringing their devilish offspring to a closed space, that in my opinion lacks the appropriate amount of air circulation, realized the great accomplishment they have. Damn, they probably make so much money off those useless parents that can't find a way to make their kids shut up; yet leaving them with a sitter would only make the toleration they lack for their kids even more noticeable. I wish that were my case. No, I lost a bet with the little one and now off to that hellhole. Stacy is the best Rock band player. I can't believe my father bought me that game as a late Christmas gift; meanwhile my sister wanted it all along. Share it; I don't want it, she does; Oh, please you always play Rock band in Florida; Yeah, but I wouldn't waste a Christmas gift on it. Pathetic. I wanted another Yorkie, the teacup ones, perhaps a Tinkerbell. Chihuahuas are ugly; suits Paris Hilton.
Carnaval ends in Brazil today, February 25th. My father was smart enough to visit me in New York right before my birthday. Interestingly enough, he left to a two-month vacation to Brazil before Carnaval started; he conveniently missed my actual birthday on the 15th. Was it a coincidence that tickets where cheaper on the 17th, making him return to Florida early in time to pack? I'm glad Teresa got to meet him; leaving the gym all sweaty while dad and I looked for missing Stacy on Steinway. I never walked so much. He wanted to meet the others; that didn't happen. He wanted to meet Him; didn't happen either. Not going to happen. My father almost had a heart attack dress shopping with me for my birthday clubbing dress. He picked; I picked two sizes smaller. No, he's simply not ready.
I've had better birthdays; it was those last 6 drinks; poor judgment leads to dancing with the guy you used to "talk" to; my current guy watched. Who spends their birthday moving? Go get boxes; you go, it's my birthday; so what, you think your special? My mom has a sarcastic tone I can't stand. She knows when to use it; I obey just to erase that smirk. My dog ran away thanks to the moron that was moving out of our new house. I cried, hysterically. Smart dog, managed to go up three floors and bark endlessly in front of our old apartment, until the obnoxious neighbor grew a heart and took her in. Dear 3C, I have your dog. Get her now, Thanks. What an ass. My mom thinks he's nice; I think she's blind. I can't wait to get that laser eye correction she had; why only at 21? I have a theory that doctors teamed up with contact brands to make money until patients are old enough to realize there's no point in waiting for surgery.

20 minutes to requiem

Thoughts

Jumble of Thoughts
Lauren Malvica

What is it that I had to do?Think… think…ugh I have no idea; watch it’s gonna come to me at the last minute; Okay mom I’ll be right there; how many times do I have to scream that to her before she actually stops asking me; oh crap I forgot to get my gas after work and she is soo going to ask me that right now; and the lightbulb for my breaklights I forgot to pick up too; I’m just forgetting everything lately; I feel like I’m losing my mind; I still have that paper to write I can’t forget to do that; remind yourself Lauren remind yourself; Great I’m going to miss my movie tonight, the one with what’s his name? ... Clive Owen whatever I’ll just record it; I have an hour to get ready before he picks me up; where’s my… Mom?Where’s my lace top with the fringes on the bottom? The brown one?; oh I could kill my sister!; oh snap I forgot to go to the cemetery today.. Joanna’s going to be so mad at me; and my dog, shit I forgot to take Teenie out today she definitely peed somewhere in the house; my room is a disaster I have to clean it before I go out tonight my dad will kill me if I don’t; or he’ll give me his organize speech which will kill me as well; haha; ok so this outfit looks ok I guess.. wha- what is that? A..a pimple !!! this cannot be happening right now I have a wedding to go to this weekend; shit...that’s what I had to do get a dress for tomorrow’s wedding; I knew I was going to remember at the last minute; I can’t believe I forgot that of all things; seriously where has my mind gone; it is gone; I forgot to call Jp and he is calling me right now; I can’t answer I have to get in the shower and fix myself; my hair is a mess; my head is killing me; maybe I can take a quick nap; no no no there is no time for that; maybe just a little one; no I can’t; I’ll be right there mom I’m gunna take a shower first!; she really needs to stop being so annoying; oh good someone loves me I got a text message; Lauren I thought you were going to stop by my house when you got out of work, where are you?; shit THAT’S what I forgot to do today and I had my mind on YOU all day and I forgot to stop by YOUR house; that’s where my mind has been; why couldn’t I remember that? Ok note to self and rule of thumb buy a planner to keep organized, and this will never happen again.

Fool's Wisdom

Jonathan Cavalieri
English 211W
Prof. Henkle
February 26, 2009
A Fool’s Wisdom
While walking toward the Acropolis in Athens, I met a man selling souvenirs and memories. This man said he found the secret to life, but he no longer sold it. Jokingly I asked if he were out of stock at the moment to which he somberly remarked that he no longer remembered what it was anymore. Upon further provocation the man exhaustingly declared he had deliberately chosen to forget what it was that he had discovered because searching for the answer was more fulfilling than the stasis of knowing.
People who believe that they have found a truly unique and obscure artist that is so endearing and inspiring to them cease to have those same convictions when they realize that more people are becoming familiar with their work and write them off as nothing special
Literary obscurity often begets critical acclaim but also wards off prosperity
If someone asks you what your aim in life is and your response is that your aim is to be a famous director like Martin Scorsese, or something to that effect, then, you should have your eye sight examined
It was hard for him to accept the words that were presented to him. He was taught a long while ago to be weary of trusting someone completely. His mother had indoctrinated him with the wisdom to believe only half of what you see and none of what you hear. If one tends to accept this as a general rule of humanity, then how can one ever expect another to believe a word that they tell them.
Men who are dissatisfied with their position or their place in life, tend to make the most ridged and structured plans to escape such fates while intoxicated and immediately forget or disregard them once they’re sober
In order to understand, or think like a woman, all one needs to do is remove their notions of common sense and accountability
Laziness often interferes with the best laid plans
Money can not buy happiness but it can buy things that distract you from noticing that your unhappy
Road trips that are organized on a late night whim lose their allure once your on the New York Thruway.
People who do not thank you for holding the door open for them, do not deserve the privilege to live in civilized society
Even though one may have the best intentions in mind, there is really no way of truly understanding what another person is feeling. Bob Dylan said ‘you just want someone you don’t have to speak to’
Athletic clothing should not be worn in public unless your participating in athletics
Technology will always be a paradox. It is a connivence when it works and a pest when it malfunctions

Friday is the best weekday

Westley Chow
February 26, 2009

Friday is the best weekday
Can't you see that you're smothering me
Holding too tightly afraid to lose control
Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you
I believe in immortal love.
It should cost the customer 50 to 200 dollars. The bulk of companies set prices in the midrange and that is where the most competition is. Pricing low is shortsighted, because someone else is always willing to sacrifice more profit margins and drive you both bankrupt. Besides perceived value, there are three main benefits in creating a premium high end image and charging more than the competition. One, higher pricing means that we can sell fewer units and thus manage fewer customers and fulfill our dream lines. It’s faster. Two, higher pricing attracts lower maintenance customers: better credit, fewer complaints, questions, fewer returns, etc. It’s less headache, THIS IS HUGE. Three, higher pricing also creates higher profit margins. It’s safer.
Is it really necessary to work like a slave to live like a millionaire?
The main benefit of your product should be explainable in one sentence or phrase. Apple did an excellent job of this with the iPod. Instead of using the usual industry jargon with GB, bandwith, and so forth, they simply said: 1,000 songs in your pocket. Done deal.
If you can conceive it and believe it, you can achieve it.
You want to step in that Octagon, look across that ring at your opponent and know that this guy’s in trouble, that there’s nothing he can do to stop me or to tire me out. I know he’s never fought anyone that moves at my pace. I want to go in there, take his heart and soul away… take EVERYTHING away from him, and have it be mine.
A lot of the food I eat doesn’t taste good, but I don’t eat for taste – I eat for performance.
I pity those who do strength training and conditioning purely for aesthetic purposes. Say hi to cardiovascular disease, diabetes, and hypertension for me.
I want the belt. Give it to me.
A guy needs to deserve what he wants. We go to college for a four year degree, master’s degrees, and doctorates for our careers and to learn knowledge about what we need to know in life. We go to driving school, to learn how to drive. We even go to the golf range and learn how to practice our swing, but when it comes to attracting women, and becoming the kind of guy that we need to be to attract the women we most want, we all sit around the couch watching football waiting for this woman to show up one day.
Attraction is not a choice.
If you’ve got a good production team that has a good ear for beats, can predict musical and social trends, and is up to date with the latest software, you’ve got a superstar. Look at T-Pain and Lil Wayne… Garbage in my opinion. Where’re the REAL SINGERS at?!? Hi Christina!
I’m a huge fan of just being like BAM and landing a kiss.
Accept everything the way it is. Most people don’t accept the world, they don’t accept reality, they don’t confront things as the way they are. They wish the world were different, they wish their situation were different, and so they whine and bitch and complain, and act like a victim, and they do things that are ineffective, because they’re living in a pretend world. Once you’ve accepted the way things are and you’ve confronted reality, now you can change things.
What motivates you more? Pleasure or Pain?
Gold is getting old. The new rich (NR) are those who abandon the deferred life plan and create luxury lifestyles in the present using the currency of the new rich: time and mobility.
Use no limitation as a limitation. Use no way as a way.

How to Abide Life Accordingly

1. Become born to at least one drug-addict of a parent. You’ll need that excuse, “Addiction runs in my family” when you end up at Promises for rehab.
2. Discover your talents from the great likes of Lindsey Lohan and Britney Spears. Sure, they are great and entertainers. Just look at how each of them ended up now.
3. You’ve hit the jackpot when not only does your mother discover your “undeniable talent”, but she decides to forever become your manager in the entertainment industry.
4. Begin to perform in talent shows and beauty pageants. It is never too early to learn that little word called REJECTION.
5. When kids at school pick on you for always being in the talent shows, just tell yourself “I’ll show them when I make it big and am on TRL”.
6. After sending out your demos, and auditioning for more T.V. pilots than you can ever count, always be modest on your call back or when you get signed to a record deal.
7. From the moment you signed your first record contract, always know that your mother loves you because you’re the CASH COW of the family, and don’t ever think otherwise.
8. If numbers 1 through 7 does not apply to you. Do not fret! You can always try out for reality shows such as P. Diddy’s Making the Band 16 to be discovered like Aubrey O’Day or Brett Michaels Rock of Love.
9. Your first purchase with your new contract money should be the following: Boobs for a gal and a Cadillac Escalade for a guy. If you’re a girl coming into the entertainment mainstream, just say you’re a late bloomer and just started developing. If you’re a guy, just say you’re “Ballin’ like Little Wayne”.
10. Whether your parents or family are really scumbags or not, always buy them a house. If you happen to fail in show business, you can always relocate to the only thing that’s yours.
11. When you meet the love of your life, who also happens to be in the entertainment industry, ELOPE TO LAS VEGAS IMMEDIATELY. You’ll have time and magazine offers for your post wedding nuptials at 2 million dollars minimum.
12. Try to get pregnant ASAP. You’ll have more offers and more money coming in for the first baby pictures.
13. After 2 years, 3 months and 2 days, file for divorce over “irreconcilable differences” and make your statement to the press “We grew apart but have the upmost respect for each other”.
14. Really begin to party at all the hot spots with the likes of Paris Hilton. You can always say that the divorce got you depressed which lead to pain killers and Bingo, you’re a drug addict. (See line 1 for further instructions).
15. After rehab, redeem yourself by working your body to its upmost potential, arrive at an awards ceremony, perform your newest single and call it a COMEBACK.
16. When all is said about you in E! True Hollywood Story, live your life by the person who knows all too well what is was like to have it all, taken all away, and have the worst Public Relations agent ever. Yours Truly…..Marie Antoinette
“I have seen all, I have heard all, I have forgotten all.”
Marie Antoinette

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

What I Missed

It sounds crazy but it has only occurred to me to miss you recently. To ponder for the past couple years about you. That is recent when I think of the sixteen years I lived without you.
There was the time I was four and had chicken pox (the itching, oh the itching!) and I ran away from you not wanting to get into the white water of the bath. The oatmeal didn’t help. And you chased me, a naked three year old, like a strange Dalmatian, only white with red spots.
Then the hospital (but I still did not understand). All those tubes and how thin your face was. You were so pale but I offered you French fries, my way of helping.
Now the boyfriends come but there is no one to interrogate them. No one to make promises of security.
I remember happiness the day you died; I did not have to go to school that day.
She held everything together, the family I mean. She took both sets of responsibilities on her shoulders and raised us well.
-Be self sufficient, never rely on someone else (how can you say that when you keep making the same mistake? always thinking that the new man will fix everything).
-Always help those in need (like the time when it was raining and she drove the old man home. The one that looked lost).
-Be grateful for what you have (and there was so little sometimes but we were happy to share what there was with one another).
There was the time we were in the car and it was sunny out and it was just my sister, me and two other girls. The country song came on, the one that made us both cry. My sister’s knuckles tight on the wheel as tears slid silently down. The lyrics about a father watching his baby grow up. He danced with her on her wedding day.
There was the time you caught me eating ketchup crackers at midnight (mom would’ve been so mad if she knew how late I stayed up). All to catch you coming home from the night shift and you were so happy to see me.
I hate that I barely remember you, that there are just these few snatches of time of the years I spent with you.
There were whispers composed of ignorance. “They all have it, what the Perkins actor had, and they can give it to you just as easily if you so much as touch one fingertip.”
Her name is not important but it was her whose father bought her that car and taught her to drive it. He who came to get her that day at school when she got sick and threw up.
We stayed with Mom’s friend (the gay one) when you died. It was fun; I wore the pink shirt and watched the circus.
This part I don’t remember but Mom does. For a while after you passed I would sit in your chair in the living room and cry. Sleeping though, only when I was sleeping. The TV was on and it was the sound that would bring her, confused to see only me alone.
I don’t remember a funeral.
Your ashes are here though, in a duck taped box. When will we scatter them? What are we all holding on to?
There are other children who aren’t allowed to play with us. “What is AIDS?” They ask their mothers as the hand pulls them away.
The first time I really thought about it, about loss, was at the sweet sixteen where both her parents cried. Her father gave the speech. It confused me; I had never felt like I was missing something before. He was proud of her, he had raised her.
You were no angel but you were mine.
I have a hole in me where all the things that might have been go. You taught me how to ride the pink bike (not the man that I hated, the one that came after you). You paid for the ballet lessons that I had wanted so badly (but that a waitress’s salary could not cover). You put the fear of God into my first boyfriend (the one that smoked pot, the one I never should have gotten involved with in the first place). You lectured me when I got drunk for the first time. You were there at my graduation, applauding my first job, giving me away at my wedding, spoiling my children your grandchildren.
It is in this place that I remember your funeral, the whole family mourning you. In this place I actually knew you, therefore could finally let you go.

Everyman for himself

-Jealousy, Hatred, Dishonesty.
-Yup, we all do it.
- To get what we want in life.
- The ones you love sometimes end up to be the ones that hurt you the most.
- Isn’t it ironic?
- When you think of it, at end of the day the only person that is always there for you is yourself.
- Sometimes you can’t even trust your own instincts, so how are you supposed to trust others?
-If your relying on others to get something done, you’re better off doing it yourself.
- Relationships; caring and loving the other person, and in return they feel the same way back.
- Right?
- Best friends forever, or is it best friends forever until the day the other person betrays you and
loses your trust.
-After just going to lunch with one of your “friends”, you check yourself in the mirror in the bathroom, and notice you have a piece food stuck between your two front teeth.
-You ask people for favors because you need help.
- Sales associate in the fitting room tells you that the outfit looks amazing on you.
-It probably doesn’t, they just want to make a sale so they can keep their job.
-Doing whatever you can to make sure you get what you want.
-Being a honest person is good, but is it good even when it hurts people’s feelings.
-Angelina admitted to the press about her connection with Brad during the filming of Mr. and
Mrs. Smith, at the time the movie was being filmed Brad was still married to Jennifer.
-You’re only sorry because you got caught.
-People do things out of spite, just to see how others will react.
-Divorce; making promises together with a person and in the end one of you couldn’t stick to
them.
- If a person betrays you once, it’s his fault and if they betray you twice, it’s your fault.
- You don’t realize what you have until it’s gone, and you seem to notice that after you hurt a
person and they walk out of your life.
-Love.
-Never put your love on display, it’s not to be played with, and if you get heartbroken who’s
going to pay for it?
-You!

...in a kaleidoscope

~I am excited because it’s your birthday, and we are going uptown on the C. We think we can trace Holden Caulfield’s footsteps.

-I always try to begin at the beginning, but it seems you were right. The origin of anything is indeterminate. Before the train there was a kiss on an escalator. Before that: waiting on a curb for a bus: a dance: the first day of freshman biology.

~It is snowing in Middle Village. We are sharing headphones, shut off from the world but connected to each other by wire and rhythm. The flakes stick to our lashes. Even though it barely fits, my hand is warm in your pocket.

-That same winter we are crowded into the back of your father’s van, sandwiched between a drum set, bass guitar, and our friends.

~We watch her vitals on the monitor as the hospital machines beep and click. The way I hold you when we find out and brace myself against the wall to sustain the force of your embrace. The way we make love after her funeral, as if it means nothing else can get erased. How we know it can never be the same again now that we are sixteen and someone our age has died.

-I always made you apologize. Even now my email inbox can trace back far enough: I love you so much/You mean everything to me/I’m sorry. You were not always wrong. I was almost never right.

~Tell me why an email from 2005 can make me cry.

-I live with a man now. We play cards at night, make the rent, and hardly ever fight. If I told him that the only reason I know how to love him is thanks to you, he would not understand, but it would still be true.

~The only good advice I ever gave you was a proverb from a journal: Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, he turned into a butterfly.

-The difference between me then and me today is when something good happens now I have to tell myself not to forget it, whereas remembering used to be automatic. This, I believe, is what Conor Oberst sings about.

~I saw a boy on the train yesterday who reminded me of you. He wore his bangs swept over his left eye and even had the same Adam’s Apple.

- The last time we had one of our lunches where we try not to talk about the weather I wanted to say sorry just one more time. It would not have even made a dent, but I should have said it.

~I still think about: Sitting on stoops in the summer. Chipped nail polish. Melting popsicles. The warm noses and wet licks of dogs no longer living.

-I am always writing letters to people that I will never send. I have never written you one, but I suppose this counts. The reason I have never formally attempted one is because thoughts of you come to me like a kaleidoscope: a picturesque novel of you and me on the bus, on the train, in English class, under my umbrella, on your basement floor. Coherency is overrated, you would say, but I feel life revolves around the construction of narratives. Ironic, you would say, because I have never been coherent.

~Incidentally is still my favorite word.

-You were the space between every synapse-that instant which said: you are for me, as I am for you. Not the period or last stitch but the dash and first inch of thread which, after starting it all, Continued.

Words of Wisdom

For as long as music, movies, and the written word of poetry and books have been around every aspect of life has pretty much been covered. Topics range anywhere from romance, infatuation, friendship, hardship, war, peace as well as anything and everything in between. We as the people who read, listen to and watch these readily available types of entertainment and informative things, tend to learn a lot about life and the world around us. To demonstrate some of the things I, personally have learned from all of the things I have been exposed to thus far, I will list what has inspired me most and some of the philosophies i live by.
(1) Everything happens for a reason. (All of the good and bad things that happen to us individually happen because that is the way it is meant to be and although we might not always know why certain things are happening when they are, we have faith that one day we will know the reason.)
(2) Life always goes on. (No matter how bad something might seem to be, it can always be or get worse. With this in mind, life has a way of moving along no matter what.)
(3) What does not kill you only makes you stronger. (This is literally true. Although it is not meant to be taken literally, it should be. I am a strong believer in this because, through all of the hardships that people have to endure only makes mankind stonger and more admirable.)
(4) What goes around comes around. (One word, karma. They say karma is a bitch so you better do right on to others or else it will come back to you. The bottom line basically is this, do good unto others and good will be done unto you. Do bad and the bad will be reciprocated.)
(5) Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. (There is someone out there for everyone and that is because what might not be beautiful to me, is beautiful to someone else. When you love someone, they become the most beautiful person in the entire world and only your opinion of them matters and that is the way it should be.)
(6) Life is what you make it. (Each one of us has a pretty good grip on what we are capable of doing and achieving as well as the will power to acutally do it. So go out there and do what it that you are looking to do and do it with a smile on your face.)
(7) Be grateful for what you have now. (The author of the best-selling book, "The Secret", Rhonda Byrne wrote this in her book, which happens to be my favorite book. It is basically saying that you should be grateful for what you have becuase that is an important key towards happiness and fulfillment.)
(8) You don't know what you've got until it's gone. (We have all heard this over and over again and it holds an incredible amount of truth to it. We as human beings tend to take others and posessions for granted thinking that they will always be there. But this is not always true. People do leave and possesions are lost, and then we feel quilty for never truly appreciating what we were given.)
(9) Forgive and forget. (This is quite an important thing to do, although at times difficult. What it means is do not hold grudges because they are a waste of perfect happiness.)
(10) Time heals all wounds. (Out of them all, this one takes the most time to actually occur but it does. Life has a way of throwing us all sorts of curveballs and having us deal with it in only ways we know how. This can be hard to do especially when something hurts too much, but with faith and time everything works out alright.)
There is no doubt that sometimes it is hard to live by these rules as well as others out there, but my best adivice is to keep your head up high and believe that it is all worht it, always.

Parental Advice

a. Jewish Boys. Don’t walk around bare foot. Men can sleep with as many women as they want but if you sleep with more than one you’re a whore. I didn’t raise you like this. What did I do to deserve this? Cheese cake. Have kids, but first get married. Marry a Jewish man. We are not racist. Tattoos keep you out of heaven. I want to be buried in Israel. To live life right, you have to marry and bring children.

b. Feed me. Food. Food. Food. I want a clean house. I want to have napkins on the table. How hard is it to remember to put napkins on the table. Where is the remote? My daughter must stand by my feet and wait to serve me. My wife. My son. I’m not drunk. When I was a kid I made toys out of twigs, what are you complaining about? Where are my keys? Close your eyes and make believe you didn’t see a thing. That is your role.

c. Where are your manners? Do the laundry. Separate the colors from the whites from the darks. Read the labels don’t dry anything that shouldn’t be dried. Peel potatoes. Go to bed early. When will you find a nice Jewish boy to marry? I’m getting old, I need grandchildren. Liposuction. I broke my nail, you finish the dishes. Why did I even bother having children? My head hurts, turn off the lights. I love you. Abuse. Black eye. Here is your food.

d. Another woman. I can fuck whoever I want, you can’t complain, you have everything. My daughter is a whore. He is perfection. Why is the food not ready yet? Napkins. Napkins. Napkins. I will disown a black child. I am not racist. I voted for Barack Obama. I’m moving back. I don’t want this. This is not what I slaved my life away for. You are an embarrassment. I am not drunk. Food. Napkins. Where is my son?

e. I am not rude. I said hello back. Why did you brink him into my house. You are going to hell. I love you. Apologize. You’re killing your father. Buy q-tips. Cat food. Bring your father some napkins. Wash the dishes. I know you will. Just want to make sure you don’t forget. I know. I know. Ok. I love you. Why don’t you ever say it back? You hate me? What are you wearing? You’re going out? Don’t throw your life out. Your brother. Learn. Q-tips. Yes.

f. I’m dying. I’m drunk. Bucket. Napkins. Today was a beautiful day. Let’s get a dog. My son. My future. Send my body to Israel. Don’t leave me. Sit. Give me your hand. I love you. Have I ever told you that? Where is my wife? I hate you. No, I love you. I hate me. You are good. You, my daughter, are different. Be free. Live your life how you want. Grandchild of mine. Bring him to me. He is dark. I voted for Barack, you know?

g. A pleasant drunk. He realizes how wrong he is as a human being. We met when I was 16. Your brother was born when I was 17 and I thought life from then on was the best ever. Life is life only when you bring life. I’m getting old. Bring me a grandchild. He is not my grandchild. Bring me a Jewish husband, a wedding, and then. He is another story. I am not upset anymore. I just saw a different future for you. Bring your father the napkins. And Water. Clean the bucket out. Tell my son dinner is ready.

Aphorisms: Instructions on How to Live Life

1 – Life is living. Otherwise you’d only exist.

2 – If you fear death, then why are you living? Do not fear death. It’ll get around to you when it feels like it.

3 – If you’re afraid of death so much then do not be on friendly terms. Would you want to visit somebody you hate? Next time you see him, don’t offer him a drink.

4 – To live fast and die young is the Chris Farley method. Hey, the guy had his moments.

5 – Live free or die hard. That doesn’t make any sense but it sounds good. Remember movies cannot be wrong. They say what we’re all thinking but are too afraid to say it. Obey the movie.

6 – If you live to work, make sure you’re getting paid for it. Only a fool works for free.

7 – God made two types of people. When you figure out you’re one or the other, that’s when you’ll know your place in the world.

8 – Any of this making sense? Life never does. Get used to it.

9 – Be optimistic. You’ll die someday so whatever’s pissing you off today won’t matter when you’re six feet under. Then you can tell all your earthly problems to ‘shove it.”

10- When you think about it, life really is like a box of chocolates. You take what you like and discard the rest.

11 – Remember that today is not the end of the world. That’s 2012.

12 – Don’t be afraid to take chances. They have no problem taking you.

13 – You’re mortal. Deal with it.

14 – Did you know “live” spelled backwards is “evil?”

15 – Did number fifteen blow your mind?

16 – If not, consider number seventeen….

17 – I have nothing profound to say at this point. By making these short, did it entice you to read them through?

18 – Why don’t they just call homework work-home? It’s the same thing isn’t it?

19 – Be happy in what you do. It’s the only thing you will be truly good at.

20 – The final rule for living life is………..to breathe. It’s the easiest thing to do.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

It’s Not To Be

Gilliam Lakepeare was unfortunately one of the best-kept secrets in the world. He was an amazing poet and playwright. His name and identity goes unnoticed, but his works are so of the most famous in the English language. It’s difficult to understand that a writer, who’s famous and beloved works include 38 plays and 154 sonnets, is only known by a few of his peers and not the entire world. But it’s actually very simple. The legendary William Shakespeare credits Gilliam Lakespeare’s works.
The beloved William Shakespeare is actually a fraud, a thief, and a fake. By taking credit for works he didn’t write himself. William Shakespeare is not even his real name. His real name is actually Henry John. He changed it because when growing up as a struggling writer, he always wanted to be famous and he felt that his name was holding him back. He wanted a name hat sounded famous even before he can actually become. He liked the name of his classmate in school Gilliam Lakespeare. He always admired Gilliam for showing signs of being a terrific writer. He always admired his name. So when choosing a name, Shakespeare chose a name that sounded similar to Lakespeare’s name.
William Shakespeare is a well renowned writer. But actually he is a world renowned criminal. While attending school together, Lakespeare and Shakespeare were actually close friends. Even though they were the same age, Lakespeare served as Shakespeare’s mentor. He also served as his tutor whenever Shakespeare needed help in one of his failing classes. Shakespeare struggled with writing so much, that when teachers would tell the students to bring in poems the next day for homework, Lakespeare would write the poems for him. Back in those days, if a boy were interested in a girl, he would write her a love letter, usually in the form of a poem. Due to his struggle to write, the girls never noticed Shakespeare. On the contrary, Lakespeare was involved with all the girls. Shakespeare was extremely jealous and asked Lakespeare to write a love letter to a girl he liked on William’s behalf. Lakespeare did so and Shakespeare formed a relationship with his future wife Anne Hathaway. The marriage angered Lakespeare because he was in love with Anne Hathaway. This started the rocky relationship the two had with each other.
Shakespeare told Lakespeare that the letter was supposed to be given to Catherine Budor. Catherine was the least attractive girl in the school, and the only girl Lakespeare wasn’t involved with. This meant that he didn’t mind writing a letter for Shakespeare to give to Catherine, but he felt a letter to Anne was off limits. He felt those lines in the poem will melt any woman’s heart and it was the sole reason Ann chose to marry Shakespeare. The lines read:
I’ll follow you and make heaven out of hell,
And I’ll die in your hand, which I loved so well.
Lakespeare was furious after hearing that the two got married. With a sword in hand, Lakespeare charged into Shakespeare’s house late one night. Shakespeare was lying in his bed sleep next to Anne. When Lakespeare saw this he dropped the sword to the ground and began to cry. His cry was so loud that it woke Shakespeare up from his sleep. Watching his one time best friend cry made him feel very guilty. In his guilt, he made a deal with Lakespeare that he would let him have Anne as his wife if he wrote a bunch of poems and playwright and Shakespeare will take the credit. Lakespeare was so in love with Anne that he agreed to the deal. The conniving Shakespeare, at the last moment altered the deal and insisted that Lakespeare would only get to be with Anne once the year 1617 arrived. The love stricken and naïve Lakespeare agreed to this deal. By the time 1617 arrived, Shakespeare was dead and Anne was uninformed of the deal that was made. When Lakespeare approached Anne, she wanted no parts of him. Lakespeare was devastated and committed suicide.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

The Londons

Sofy Dzhanashvili
02/19/09
English 211W
Professor Henkle

Explore Missouri Magazine, Volume XVI, Issue 8
Sunday, December 18th, 1966


"How saddening the tragedy of good men, how disheartening the fate of lovely friends."- J.R. Thompson, novelist and friend of Trace London, as excerpted from his best-seller Neighborhood Mysteries[1]

They were an odd pair. Unlikely, to be sure, but many would even argue that they were straight-down incompatible. Trace, with his slow, Southern slur and gap-toothed grin, sitting on the porch as his wife Sal, a fiery red-headed New Yorker, tiptoed around him bringing a pitcher of water or a cup of pudding or doing some other insignificant domestic chore. Yet, as peculiar a match they were, no one had would anticipate what would happen to them. The lovely couple from 384 Pine Lake Road[2] always came to church on Sunday mornings, always wrote inside the lines and kept the most outstanding garden, which Trace took care of himself. He was last seen bent over his shrub of Honeysuckle. Sal was sweeping the front steps, periodically checking on the freshly baked batch of homemade corn bread[3] that was cooling inside. It was reported that the front-porch was left only half-cleaned, with the dust still drifting mid-air. The corn-bread sat on the kitchen counter, untouched, waiting.
Trace was the son of honest, industrious, blue-collar Americans who believed that the perfect man was created with hard-work and discipline. He knew which tools fixed a pipe leak. Sal's parents were immigrants, arriving from Hungary in the winter of '36 and settling in the West Side, where the success of their leather company[4] set them to become an affluent upper-middle class family. Indeed, Sal was a city girl and knew nothing of suburban life, but she soon learned to fold laundry perfectly. They married in the early Spring, shortly after the blizzard of '58 had subsided, at St. Luke's church where Trace had been christened 27 years before. It was noted by all guests to be a touching wedding and a delightful evening. Father Harvey attended.

Police Report #7865B[5]
Welmington, Missouri
Issue of Missing Persons: London, Trace; London, Sally
Last seen mid-afternoon, October 23rd, 1964
Case Pending

The Londons simply disappeared. There were no signs of forced entry.[6] No ransom note. No evidence of struggle. Indeed, gossip had loomed amongst the inhabitants of Pine Lake Road that the Londons had their share of domestic problems, but this was no reason to jump to conclusions. It was no secret that Sal was often subject to Trace’s emotional outbursts, as his violent screams were sometimes heard in the middle of the night, when everyone’s curtains had already been drawn.[7] It was not uncommon to see Sal smoking a cigarette outside the downstairs bathroom window, silently weeping. Yet, most days she seemed happy, and she regularly attended the town’s Women’s League meetings.
Two years after the London’s disappearance, the community is still in shock about the heartbreaking turn of events, yet has come to cope with the tragedy. A small bronze[8] statue stands at the corner of Pine Lake Road, dedicated to the memory of a much-beloved couple.[9]




[1] Available by order from Starwood Publishers, Starnum, Missouri, 26899.
[2] Newly renovated town-house now stand there, available for purchase. Please contact Glory Day Realtors for further information.
[3] As reported by Barbara Simons, 386 Pine Lake Road, Mrs. London’s corn-bread recipe included the following ingredients:
1/4 pound butter (softened)
2/3 cup white sugar
2 eggs
1 cup buttermilk (cream by be substituted)
1 cup cornmeal
1 cup all-purpose flour

[4] Donath Hinds still remains the top seller of fine leather goods in the East Coast.
[5] Printed with permission of Missouri State Police, license #9874.
[6] Retrieved from article in the Missouri Oak Times, October 26, 1964- "MISSING: Wholesome Missouri Couple Disappear; Community in Shock”.
[7] Police report dated January 17th, 1962, documented domestic violence. Anonymous called received from 386 Pine Lake Road. Charges were soon dropped as of mistrial.

[8] Let it be noted that the metal has not yet begun aging, although a green tint has slightly tinged the bronze.
[9] If you hold any information regarding Trace or Sally London, please contact Lt. Sanders of the Missouri State Police, District12. Reward is likely.

JOANNA

By Lauren Malvica

The anticipation and nervousness was visible all over Joanna’s face. “This is it” she thought as she turned open the first chapter of the book entitled, “How to Help Yourself” by Kiki Jones[1]. As she read through the first line of the chapter, her eyes immediately began to fill up with tears and her eyes became very hot. She slammed the book shut, grabbed her cell phone, and made the last call she would ever make in her life.
Joanna grew up in an apartment in Glendale. She was born on November 3rd 1987. Growing up she played all kinds or sports; basketball, softball, football (with her brother and his friends) and a little bit of handball. She was quite the athletic one and quite the tomboy. In middle school she would wear almost all of her brother’s clothes; the baggy tee’s with the huge sweatpants. Once she got to high school, everything changed. Her hair changed, her makeup, her clothing, her attitude, Joanna became a woman; she even moved to another apartment. The only thing that hadn’t changed was her closest friends.
Joanna, 16-18, lived at home with her mother and brother in a cute little apartment in Queens. She was beautiful tiny girl with long brown hair and the biggest brown eyes you could ever see. She had so many friends, and so many people who loved her and looked up to her. Her grades in high school were fantastic. She was a straight A student, all of the teachers knew her and although some disliked her for being a “loud mouth”, some sort of a smile came to their faces whenever Joanna called out their names.
Joanna had seven best friends all of which who knew everything about her. Every morning before school they would all eventually, one by one, end up at her house for some coffee and gossip. Joanna was a closet writer, who secretly wrote poems and short stories, love letters, etc. Her favorite book was “A Streetcar Named Desire” by Tennessee Williams, simply because of all of the drama and excitement that took place within it.
Joanna led a very exciting life with all of her friends and family. She loved to be outdoors and her favorite thing in the world to do was go to the movies. She wanted desperately to go to law school and open up her own law firm. Many people would tease her on this but she was determined. Unfortunately, the people of America will never come to know Joanna, or her future accomplishments.[2]
Joanna had changed however her senior year of high school. She had less friends, she was fighting a lot, she had lost tons and tons of weight and she started to look different. She pulled herself away heavily from the people she used to see everyday and no one knew why or bothered to even ask. She met a boy named Anthony Bonocora[3], when she was 17, he changed her, and not for the better. They dated for a year which was around the time the changes occurred.
Joanna graduated from high school on June 4th, 2005. She attended her high school prom just a couple of weeks prior to this occasion. She wore the most beautiful blue dress anyone could ever imagine. During the summer, her last summer, she had a blast; from going on vacations with her friends or weekend getaways before everyone went off to separate colleges.
In the fall of that year, she attended St. Francis College where she was studying to get into the law profession. She was still changed and there was still something different about her.

[1] A book on how to get help with addiction
[2] Joanna died November 30th 2008 due to an overdose of narcotic drugs. She was found in a CVS parking lot in her car at around 11pm, alone, although she didn’t arrive alone. She is survived by her mother Zori DeMartino and brother Thomas DeMartino and her estranged father Joe.
[3] Anthony was heavy into cocaine and crystal meth. He introduced these products to his girlfriend of only a year, drugs that killed her.

Teresa Vivar

Stephanie R. Fajardo
Eng 211W-AT3RA
Prof. Henkle
February 19, 2009

Teresa Vivar
Teresa Vivar was born on October 19, 1919 in the country side of Ecuador. She was the first child of Teresa Maria Lopez and her father left her right after she was born. Family has told little Teresa that when her mother found out about her father’s fatal heart attack, also thought to be out of guilt of leaving his family, her mother wore red from head to toe for his funeral and even went as far as to go up to his open casket and spit at his cold face. Teresa still was fortunate enough to have a father when her mother remarried Cesar Vivar, who also adopted her. She never felt the need to express her father as her “adoptive father” for Cesar was the only father Teresa will ever know and love profoundly.
Teresa then went to Guayaquil, Ecuador at age 25 for more opportunities to work. She began working as a nurse at the Hospital of San Francisco de Assisi. Her first patient was a wounded wrestler, Martin Bolivar, who was still handsome regardless of his bruised face. She thought she would only take care of him till he recuperates, until they married 6 months later.
Teresa continued her profession at nursing until the age of 32, where she then became a mother to her first daughter, Flora Maria. Besides dedicating herself to her growing family, she learned the leather trade that her husband’s family owned. She would travel throughout the coast as well as the country side to sell merchandise and even import animal skin such as alligator. This went on until her fifth child, Mario Ruben which by that time she was 42 years old.
During the 1970’s, there was the big wave for South Americans to migrate to the United States. Teresa knowing that she and her husband have five children to support, they didn’t think twice to move to the United States for work. This came at a heavy price for she left her five children, all ages of 20, 19, 16, 14 and youngest 9. Although she knew she left them in proper care of their Tia Pastora, what mother can truly be at piece when leaving their own. She told her children this move was temporary, for when she and her husband made enough money they would come back to Ecuador. They did so, in 1979.
By that time her first daughter Flora Maria was an adult and married to Pedro Alcatraz in the United States. She yearned for her mother to come live with her and her growing family in New York. Teresa took up that offer for she wanted to meet her new grandchildren Pedro Jr. and Clara Teresa. What turned out to be a temporary trip came to be the rest of her life. Teresa raised her grandchildren with all of the time, love and care she had for them. In which that time, love and care would be reciprocated.
Teresa Vivar was age 82 when she finally succumbed to what she never knew she had. Flora Maria didn’t want to break Teresa’s spirit in informing her of her liver cancer, so she made sure that every day was filled with joy, love, and laughter. Those five years were fulfilling to Teresa to which she sometimes questioned. Her happiness alone was enough for Teresa and never questioned it again. She died on April 3, 2002 in her sleep, surrounded by her loving family.

Finishing

Westley Chow
February 19th, 2008

Finishing
It’s just as he had imagined. All the anticipation building up to today… It’s finally arrived. In another minute, Robbie Lawler makes his professional debut inside the Octagon as the youngest professional Mixed Martial Arts fighter in the UFC. His facial expression shows nothing, like the calm before the storm. In the locker room with his trainers, he mouths the words to the heavy metal music playing in his ear buds while simultaneously going through the motions of combinations and drills he’s been practicing endlessly for the past eight weeks. “You’re faster than him, stronger, more explosive… If he tries to shoot in and take you down to the ground, you’ll know what to do. You’ve trained long and hard…” His coach goes on and continues to repeat the same motivational jargon that you hear about in books with titles like “The Giant is Within” by authors known for their psychological babble like Stony Robbins. Robbie blocks it out. He knows that when the time comes, his body will just react to the movements of his opponent and he’ll execute his techniques just like in the training room.
The walk out in the MGM Grand Garden Arena is long and confusing. Security guards lead the way to the cage, and the 17,000 screaming fans continue to try to touch him on the way out. This is what you were born to do Robbie, you were made for this… you’re a warrior. Don’t let the hype get to you, you’re a finisher. Don’t let the fight go into the hands of the judges, finish this kid. The fans continue to attempt to reach and grab, trying to steal his energy as he finally makes his way to the referee who gives him his final check. Mouthpiece in, cup in, no Vaseline except on the face, walk up the stairs into the Octagon. His opponent is already inside, probably talking to himself, telling his conscience to shut up and get focused, because it’s about to get really crazy in a minute. The announcer brings the two together to the center of the octagon where the referee explains the rules and the fighters get a chance to glare into each other’s souls one last time. Robbie is empty… All his preparation has been done. There’s no need to stare his opponent down. He knows it’ll be over soon.
Each fighter walks back to his corner, and it begins. Robbie comes out hard, rushing at his opponent with a flying knee which misses as his opponent calmly steps to the side. They trade shots standing up, and he shoots in on Robbie. Sprawl! Robbie stuffs the takedown, clinches his opponent, and brings two knees up from hell while snapping his head down into those colossal knees. He’s rocked! Robbie rushes in on him and throws a flurry of fists, ending the fight in spectacular fashion with the referee jumping in to save his opponent. ‘The Phenom’ Robbie Lawler has done it again in his professional debut, stopping Jamie Varner in 48 seconds of the first round by TKO. Wow, what an adrenaline rush. It’s over. I finished him.

Name ‘The Phenom’ Robbie Lawler
Record 1-0-0 (Win-Loss-Draw)
Height 5’7’’
Weight 155lbs (71kg)
Result Opponent Method Event Title Date Round Time
Win Jamie Varner TKO (Strikes) UFC 101 Respect 2/21/2009 1 0:48

The Street Fighter

The year: 1991. The kid: determined. The machine: coin-operated. Abel spent all of his time at the arcade. To say he was an avid gamer would be an understatement, Abel was a professional. It was his time to shine; the Street Fighter II (1) machine had just been hauled in days earlier and Abel was ready and able to learn all of its secrets. As the buttons clicked Abel executed combos and grapples as if the machine was an extension of his own body. He wasn’t interested in much else.
For years he attended government-mandated High School trudging through the hallways rarely lifting his head. His bent figure was sometimes seen skulking in the shadows behind the cafeteria, sucking on a cigarette. There wasn’t much else to do between classes. Anti-social, maybe, but he just preferred learning combos and throw escapes, counting frame-by-frame the movement of Player One across the display.
He thought of making friends, but only to amuse himself. They were all useless, much like Lemmings (2) he watched them move across the screen one by one, mindlessly following one another. A girlfriend might be fun for a while but he’d rather save his quarters.
As he rocked the joystick back and forth while chewing on his favorite gum he felt a slight tug on his sweatshirt. He remained standing there like a statue executing dragon punches and the infamous shoryuken (3) much to the dismay of his digital opponent. It wasn’t until after the match that he found the book (4). Thumbing through it the words “unblock Abel attack” crossed his eyes and immediately grabbed his attention. Why was it spelled like this? Was this book meant for him to find?
He soon realized that it must have been written by one of the games developers, for there were notes pertaining to the games complex code strewn all through the book. There was no title but it still had literary qualities, explaining in great detail how to completely demolish ones opponents in the game. It was like having a conversation with the developer and that night Abel read the book cover to cover.
Returning to the arcade the next day Abel immediately inserted his coin and watched as Player One dominated the other computer controlled fighters; it was as if the book held every secret the game had. From glitches to exploits in certain moves Abel learned everything there was to be learned of the game. He felt as if playing this game was his destiny, so he did.
For weeks on end he stood there silent, stone cold, with his expressionless face fighting CPU opponent and the occasional challenger. Champion Edition, Tournament Edition, (5) it didn’t matter. He knew the game inside and out. He never lost. He had become the ultimate Street Fighter. Abel was happy, for there wasn’t much else in the world for a teenager to be excited about. No one could beat him for he held the secret. The book was always in his jacket pocket but he never again needed it, he had become an extension of the game.
(1) Street Fighter II hit arcades worldwide in 1991, one of the most critically acclaimed fighting games of all time it has grown to become the definitive title and remained on top since its release. It is still played competitively by players around the world.
(2) Lemmings was a game originally released for the Amiga home console and then ported to the arcade. The player does not control the lemmings in the game but rather their surroundings; the lemmings follow each other one-by-one in the game sometimes to their death.
(3) A vertical attack used by Ken and Ryu in the Street Fighter games. Abel liked using Ken because of his dragon punch as well.
(4) It is believed by many video game historians that the book was the private journal of Akira Yasuda, Street Fighter II’s chief game designer. While touring American arcades to celebrate the games release he had lost it along with many of the games secrets. The misspellings were attributed to Mr. Yasuda’s recent fascination with written English, he had recently learned how to write in the language and was hoping to use the English language as the gatekeeper of his secrets upon returning to Japan.
(5) Subsequent releases of the game with added characters and competitive modes. These games were often played at player vs. player competitive matches in arcades in the early 90’s.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Her Pink Wooden Box

She was alone yet somehow she did not consider herself lonely. Aunt Edie Semog was one of the few women I ever looked up to. She was tough yet sensitive, stubborn yet forgiving, artistic in her views and she always lost her patience in an educated and eloquent manner. Looking at photographs passed around within our family during holiday dinners, I was always excited to see how Aunt Edie remained just as beautiful as she once was during her high school prom. She always kept her hair long past her shoulders, always colored as a deep chocolate, and she stood at 5’6” on her gorgeously lean legs and slim frame. Her eyes were as black as the night and she always had a curious stare. I have always been intrigued as to how someone so interesting and wonderful to look at, never married nor to the least fallen in love.

Aunt Edie never seemed bothered by the rude remarks her sisters would make during those family dinners. She always sat beside me with a quiet smile and nodded and sometimes even giggled at comments such as “My husband and I are celebrating our 7th anniversary next month, I can’t see myself any happier unless being married to him”. Ave Semog [1] always had the crudest of all comments to share, she had one famous line (“Just get a man, it’s about time don’t ya think”) that she would always say no matter who was at the table. This of course would always cause an uncomfortable commotion in which Edie would stop smiling and excuse herself for the rest of the evening.

I only speculate as to why the prettiest of the sisters died single at age 72, and thus I choose to blame her parents, my grandparents that is. Edie was the youngest of the 3 sisters, born in June 14th, 1937. Her parents marriage was her father’s third and on her 8th birthday she said goodbye to the man she thought was her hero. The family’s biggest secret is why grandma and grandpa divorced but I know for a fact it’s the reason for Edie’s solitude. She would always tell me to open the pink wooden box under her bed once she died, but I would always pretend not to hear her speak of her own death, yet now 2 weeks after a sad afternoon I find myself in her room holding the peculiar box. It contained:

4 journals
2 photographs
1 pencil

I slowly opened each journal only to find a different side of my beloved Aunt poured within each page. Behind her quiet smile was a sea of confusion. She too was not aware of what kept her from loving; page after page of the same question and no answer. The two photographs were of her father, one dated before the divorce and the other dated long after. At one point she makes a reference to Robert Gail’s book The Purple Swing. I remember her making several attempts to discuss its meaning during one Christmas dinner, yet it was in vain as her sisters resumed mocking her with their own marriages.

Nevertheless her 3rd journal mentions the story of a girl, who dreamt of having a purple swing in her backyard and spent her whole summer planning its layout and means to purchase the swing, yet summer comes to an end and she realizes she ran out of time therefore the swing would serve no purpose. There was my answer and hers as well. Edie spent her life trying to figure out what went wrong with her parents only ruining her own chances of being happy with a loved one.

1. Ave Semog was the eldest of the sisters, 13 years older than Edie. She married five times resulting in a total of 8 children from all marriages combined. Her eldest daughter died single at age 35.
Katherine Scott

A Teenage Love
In the month of July in 1997, Jessica was only 13 years old and the love of her life
came walking through her gate. She was sitting by the side door steps at the moment he
arrived, he had seen her too but he just walked right past her and continued to talk with
her brother. Jessica had put herself into a situation at that very moment that she knew
was going to get her into a lot of trouble, but she didn’t care. For starters he was 17 years
old, and her mother had made it clear to her that she was not allowed to date until she was
18.
She started to go outside every time to try to get him to notice her, and to Jessica’s
likings he did. He thought she was much older then 13, because she was already fully
developed and she had thick legs, big hips, a big butt and big boobs too. They started to
talk more and more everyday, and they both knew where this was leading too. As
tempting as Jessica was to be his girlfriend already, she had to hold herself back all
because of her mother.
Jessica was always a well behaved child, did well in school and she never disobeyed
her mother, but after meeting him she knew that she had to try to convince her
mother to change her mind about her having to wait so long to date. Now she was
nervous to bring up the topic with her mother about him , but since he was the son of a
good friend of the family, she thought her mother would definitely reconsider. Her
mother had always told her that when she got older and before she started dating a guy to
make sure that he:
-Came from a good family and respected his mother.
-He was Christian because religion is very important to their family
-Finished school and that showed he was serious about his life.
Immediately her mother said “NO”, the second she said his name because she knew what
Jessica was trying to do.
For days she would sit and wonder why her mom wouldn’t let her date him just because
of her age. He had fit all the standards her mom told her to look for in a guy, and the
fact that he was from a family her mother knew just made her even more upset. She
didn’t want her life to turn into the famous love story of Romeo and Juliet, where she had
to sneak around and hide her relationship from her family, but in the end it did.
After over a year of sneaking around with him, Jessica finally started to date Isaiah on
December 16, 1998, and she didn’t care anymore what her parents would say if they were
to find out. To her surprise when they did find out, they just didn’t care because
they knew that at this point, what they would say wouldn’t change anything.
Jessica was so happy with her life, and never understood why her parents wanted her to
wait so long to have a boyfriend. Everything was going smooth in their relationship, and
then in May of 2003 it all came clear to her. She then realized that she should have
listened to her parents, and saw why they made it such a big deal for her to wait till she
was 18 to start a relationship with anyone. Now she was finally 18, the age she had
longed to be when she first fell in love at 13, but was also already 6 weeks pregnant.

Little Claudia

The girl began her life as fresh and beautiful as one could be. The passing of years stole some of this plump beauty though, first with the loss of her father than with the gradual creeping illness that stole her mother (1). Still a child, barely five she crouched on the floor bent double with the pains of hunger and the heat of the fever. Though her body was weak one hand clutched, with the strength of another entity, her mother’s from where it hung over the bed. Surely fate had forgotten this fragile being and left her to die…but for the elegant creature in the doorway.
She awoke, born again, her new caretakers two beautiful things that imitated men. Her hair curled into rich ringlets once more and cheeks became the plump peaches they had been before her family succumbed to the slums. “Come kill with me tonight” Lestat would whisper his eyes full of mischief. This while Louis would sit in his favorite armchair by the fire his eyes on her and full of reproach.
In the early days of her new life she would follow Lestat, his lack of conscience appealed to her youth. But time passed and gradually youth faded though her exterior remained as small and untouched as ever. Her childish cruelty sharpened into an adult’s cold cunning and when her eyes were on Lestat he sensed her disgust. They no longer left Louis by the fireside alone. Now she would crawl into his lap, hating her diminutive figure and the way he watched her with affection rather than lust. They would talk for hours, to put it more aptly Louis would speak while she listened quietly, curiosity warning her to bide her time so that she could eventually learn the truth.
One night while hunting long forgotten memories prompted her the dark filthy room where her mother had died. Louis, weak as he had ever been, apologized over and over again only to finally agree to do the only thing that would make it up to her. Her hatred finally managed to burn Lestat up but it had only just begun to lick at Louis. She insisted tha t they search for other creatures like themselves. Her soul yearned for a sense of belonging; perhaps she hoped to find another child demon like herself? Louis accompanied her still trying to protect her and him from the longing that had already set her destiny in place.
In Paris other creatures were finally found, a nest that put on plays for the public every night (2). The girl’s need was quenched though after the first contact. She wanted only to leave for in the leader’s eyes she could see certain death. But Louis, her guardian and lover, either would not or could not see. Now it was Claudia who was at his whim, afraid and begging to leave.
After an uneasy period of waiting she resigned herself to fate. She could not leave Louis and she was not capable of happiness or even contentment at that point in her life. The woman in a child’s body waited for death and was given it in the form of Lestat, back from the grave to accuse her. Cast into a room with no ceiling Claudia waited for the sun while listening to faithful Louis scream in the distance for her (3).
So, in Paris, on the morning of December tenth 1862, died an abomination of nature. A beautiful small creature whose appetite was never sated and who never should have lived in the first place.

(1) Believed to be Marcella Decuir, a plague victim who died in 1794. She had a five-year-old daughter who was never issued a death certificate; her existence disappears from the record books. Many believe little Claudia simply ran away after she realized her mother was dead, but this researcher believes differently.
(2) The oddly named “Theatre des Vampires.” Records show that while this group was in Paris fatalities increased by over twenty percent. A young noble, Claire Goux Maillet, wrote in her diary that she felt “disturbed” after seeing one popular play put on by the coven.
(3) The theater was searched for survivors after a raging fire destroyed it in 1862. It was reported as full of skeletal remains, far too old to have been casualties of the fire. The fireman that reported this mused, “Perhaps they were being used as stage props.”
In another room, oddly untouched by the fire, a man reported seeing a beautiful sculpture that seemed to be made out of ash. It was of a young girl with her eyes “squeezed shut in an expression of great pain.”

A Biography Of A Barfly

He was not a religious man, although he had his scruples. If one were to look at Bob they would say he was a hapless, helpless soul, perhaps even hopeless. Bob would never consider that those adjectives pertained to the nature of his personality and for good reason. He would often burden reluctant and uninterested patrons in philosophical ban, stemming purely from his desire to vindicate himself. He’d announce that religion was the last refuge of the hopeless, and since he wasn’t religious, he was not hopeless. The confused and sudden pupils of Bob, would either roll their eyes, laugh or simply ignore the man. Bob would also say that men design their own philosophies in an attempt to justify their own failures, therefore, the man who uttered the phrase “ it is better to have loved and lost, than never have loved at all” was merely frustrated at the daunting memory of his failed relationship, and would rather have never loved in the first place.
Its well known amongst the regulars in Bob’s haunt that he worked for over forty years for ABC news in the midst of the glamour and spectacle of post war Manhattan. He attended New York University for his Bachelors degree and furthered his education at Fordham University, where he received his Juris Degree. Bob was capable of quoting from obscure literature on a whim, however he rarely deviated from one of his favorite authors, John Ruskin (1). Bob would recite a few phrases for the benefit of himself whenever a good natured man with a fresh face walked through that place on a given night. He would glance up with startling alacrity when one would enter, glare at them with seething contempt and croak, “Blanched Sun, blighted grass, blinded man”. Bright futures and happy hours only begat sad tales of dead ends in dark rooms for Bob. His drink of choice was a Manhattan; only acceptable with 3 cherries, and based on Martel Bourbon. He would sit with minimal motion, hunched over in a frozen posture, with an ashtray to his left and his glass to the right. Bob was always dressed curiously presentable in a three piece suit blended with subtle pinstripes, finished off with polished boots and a freshly starched collar. On occasions he would read from the Daily News or fritter away the twilight on the crossword puzzle. In the stool near the window Bob sits and never misses a night, so they say. Its unknown what has reduced his life to its current state, nor would Bob ever say if you asked him. One thing is for certain though, there he sits in the solace of solitude for which his life depends, counting his friends amongst cigarette ends.

1. John Ruskin’s The Storm-Cloud of The Nineteenth Century, which was written during the Industrial Age and denounced of the devastation ushered in by the mechanical revolution in London.

Old Blue Eyes

Britt Bell February 19, 2009
Old Blue Eyes

When I think of my grandfather, butterscotch candies hidden in flannel shirt pockets come to mind. I can place myself as a young girl in my grandparents’ dining room, sunlight streaming through the blinds as little particles of dust and Rush Limbaugh’s booming voice swirl around the room. The smell of fresh baked bread on Sunday afternoons haunts my nostrils.

Stephen Pietrowski was born on February 8, 1918 to Polish immigrants in Brooklyn[1]. As one of seven children, Stephen did not have time to receive a formal education and began to work full time upon graduating the eighth grade. When the country went to war, he followed and received the Bronze Star medal for repairing a downed communication line, once managed to sleep through the bombing of a neighboring field, and stormed one of the beaches on D-Day.[2]

In 1945, he and Adeline Darlow, a spunky eighteen-year-old neighbor, eloped.[3] They had two children, Stephen and my mother, Margaret. My grandfather worked three jobs, and by the time my mother was ten, the family moved out of a coldwater flat to a home of their own in Flushing, Queens. My grandparents enjoyed going to polka dances held in Maspeth, although my grandfather would not dance, preferring to observe instead. The only song they ever danced to together is Strangers in the Night.[4]


My grandfather was a quiet man, but his words were memorable. For instance, my mother’s marriage to my father was her third, and as my grandfather walked her down the aisle he whispered two phrases into her ear: “You don’t have to do this” and “Next time, you’re paying for it.” The second line was delivered with a smile, my grandfather’s characteristic sense of humor. He didn’t make jokes often, but the ones he did always broke whatever ice needed thawing. His keen insight was chilling, however. On the day before his death he was held up in a hospital bed. He told me that the important papers and his wallet were in his nightstand, that no, I would not see him tomorrow, and I should take out twenty dollars to spend on myself before giving it to my grandmother.


Even though he never even attended high school, my grandfather was a self-educated man, always working on the crosswords and reading. He told me he was proud of me and kept my little handwritten stories in a manila folder. His favorite book was Arundel, which, as far as I know, tells about Benedict Arnold and the Battle of Quebec. Although he would have been able to tell you the number of casualties and names of weapons used, I cannot even tell you which war it was. His fascination with historical tragedy might have been to distract him from the trauma of real life. The 1960’s gave birth to an era of familial turmoil. My grandfather’s only son, my uncle, began a lifelong addiction to heroin.

Three decades later my grandfather developed colon cancer but beat it at age 81, living through two years of remission which involved burying his son and witnessing his daughter’s painful third divorce. And how did my grandfather, the war hero and cancer survivor, die? He fell out of bed. He would probably have laughed and said life is like that. He left me: a worn dictionary, his Bronze Star, and a million questions I should have asked. His grave says:
Stephen V. Pietrowski 1918-2002
Beloved husband, father, and grandfather
Forever in our hearts

If I could talk to him once more I would say: “I promise I won’t screw up like everyone else so you can be proud, and I forgive you for listening to Rush Limbaugh.”
[1] I believe their names were Czeslaw and Helen; unfortunately my grandfather rarely spoke about himself aside from his involvement in the war, and most of the details of his life are a mystery even to my grandmother.
[2] The family has differing opinions on this, but my great uncle swears it was Normandy, and I am apt to take a veteran’s word on a veteran.
[3] Theirs was a classic love story of families who did not want them to be together, but my grandfather would never speak of their elopement.
[4] The Frank Sinatra version, of course. A hobby of my grandfather’s in retirement was recording songs from his record collection to make mix tapes.

The Soul’s Soldier

He hung there, like the history of America, who lynched innocent souls for no purpose, he too was lynched. By his own hands, by his own misery, he gave into the cards he dealt. He killed to kill himself.

The paper I received, read:
Mr. Jimenez, Angelo.
Time and Day of death: Approximately 3:25 a.m. on
June 3rd, 2010.
Location: Sing Sing Correctional Facility. 254
Hunter Street, Ossining. 10563.
Cell Block: D, Gate: 14.
Cause of Death: Suicide, by way of hanging and
strangulation.


I was asked, if I desire, to pick up his belongings, which will be held in storage, at the prison house. So I drove the gray road, with the naked trees and pebbles on the side where grass perhaps once laid there. When I arrived at the gray Victorian castle, I was directed by a guard to gate 23 where property pick up exists. I stood at the gate, which seemed like forever, but probably was a total of ten minutes waiting to be led in. Officer Rudney escorted me to the table, where I was to sign a release form, listing all of his valuables.

1 book
1 journal
1 toothbrush
1 rosary

I apologize for your lose, he robotically stated, and handed me the gray and salmon colored box, which had a piece of tape on the side labeling it “Jimenez, A. # A3125D9.”
I lifted the box, which seemed awfully light for someone whose entire life exists in this assembled piece of cardboard. I walked back out, down the road and to my blue car. I put the box in the front passenger seat, like I was placing my brother’s dead body next to mine. I walked around the front of the car, opened the door, sat down and slowly shut the door closed.
I lifted the top off the box and in it were the two books I signed off for. Aside from the books, there was the tooth brush and the rosary; our father’s rosary. The rosary, as I remember our father telling us when we were kids was “solid gold kids, nothing but pure de oro macizo.” And when I was 14 years old, the Soldados Latinos[1] came to the city and began to recruit Latino men like Angelo to wage war in hopes of resuscitating their souls. It’s funny because Angelo had more life in him then any teenager I had ever met since then, but in June 1984 he enlisted in the Soldados Latinos and it was as if he sold his soul for an idea that was merely fictional.
Our mother died in March of 1991 and Angelo was allowed to attend the funeral. He was escorted by four officers, in his dark green one piece suit, handcuffed and leg-cuffed. Angelo, then twenty four years old, looked frail and emaciated. His soul, then already dead was never brought back to life. That day, he died spiritually with our madre. However, Angelo always cried to me when I visited him, saying that he begs god for his time to come, and wishes he would have died that night instead. He knew he killed and had accepted his actions. What he couldn’t believe was that he was sold by the same people who promised him salvation and protection.
I lifted the hand made journal that I am figuring Angelo made on the many hours he had free. On the first page, he wrote:

May 8th, 2010.
If you are reading this it is because my time has come. I sit
here each day contemplating if I should leave the beat of my heart in the hands
of mysuperior or if I should take action on my own. I have aged quicker then
anyone I have ever seen in my life age and I feel as though my legs resist life.
I lay in this cell each day reading the one book I own, given to me by madre and
pray that I do not awake the next morning. I have learned to write from the book
I read, and have learned to live by the book with which I sleep with it each
night under my pillow. I am no longer, a soldado latino, but rather a soldado de
mi alma. I am serving my own soul justice by not giving into my own misery. I
have to live with my
mistake.

-Angelo


He wrote beautifully, he began to write the day after he met my children. They were 14 and 16 and I knew they were ready to comprehend what they were about to see. After a long attempt in requesting us visiting in a room as opposed to between a glass wall, we received approval. Sadly, it was the first and last time they got to see their uncle.
I held the book, which madre gave him, when she visited him for the first time. Unlock Your Soul was translated from Spanish to English. Written by Juan Alberto Santiago, a spiritual reviver—mother gave it to him in hopes that it will guide him in the tough journey he was facing that first month of his life sentence. In it, madre wrote notes for Angelo. Perhaps it was to give him a piece of home in each reading or perhaps it was because she worried with every passage she read. One line read on page 52, “mistakes are bound to occur, but it is how you over come them that will make you the person you are for the future.” Next to it, madre wrote in dark purple ink to Angelo, “mi hijo, nunca abandonara la lucha.” She feared he would give up, she wrote variations of these messages trough out the book. I suppose, after she passed he began to answer her back. Next to some of her pleads of staying strong and not giving up he wrote back to her saying, “Mi Madre, I miss you.”
Angelo was a lost soul, and gave into the devil’s worshiping at a young age without realizing. By the time he had matured and knew right from wrong, it was too late. In his last entry in his journal he wrote that his constant struggle to survive had a light of hope. Sadly, he wrote, he doesn’t see it anymore and that if his superior gave him the opportunity to go that night then he would take the hint. He took his life, the same day he was brought into this world. He stated a week earlier in his writing that he wished he could reverse life and take back even being born. He feels he had disrespected papi by following the Soldados Latinos and killing an innocent man. He denounced his affiliation to the Soldados Latinos after a year in confinement and realizing that they sold him to the same people he serves each day in these prison cells.
Angelo was a lost soul, but he found himself that night he burned all the plastic he had in his cell into a long piece of string. He found his soul when he tied it around his neck and connected it to the bar above his bed and then slowly walked off into the air and into the arms of our madre.
Descanse en paz. Mi Hermano, Mi Ángel.

[1] Established in 1978 by Cesar Mendoza. Mendoza was a mix of Columbian, Puerto Rican and Ecuadorian decent. He believed that every Latin man who had come from any Latin background had to serve in the Latin army that he established. With it, you have to kill those who hold back Latinos from prosperity, you had to adhere to the specialized laws and regulations of your commander and forever be loyal to your Latino heritage.