If interested in having me for a reading, class visit, or conference/festival, please contact me at lorcaloca AT aol DOT com

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

If you live in Iowa City DON'T miss this reading!

Sabrina Orah Mark (swoon) and Jason Schneiderman (double swoon) will be reading in Iowa City on Sept. 9 at Prairie Lights.

I so wish I could be there!

My Cathedral (Che Guevara and César Chávez): Alex Donis: 1997

Artist statement:
Although the pairing of Che Guevara and César Chávez in a homosexual embrace is fictional, I personally enjoy the thread of reality inherent in the painting. Both of these characters never actually kissed, but in this painting, the paradox is that they have and have not.

I created this work to try and melt down the stoicism in male Latino heroic figures and address the fear in feminizing masculinity.

Galería de la Raza in San Francisco approached me to do this exhibition as part of their "Regeneration Project." At that time I sat down and wrote out a list of historical characters that I considered my personal heroes. Both Che Guevara and César Chávez were on that

When I first visited Galería de la Raza in the Mission District, I noticed several murals around the neighborhood depicting both Che Guevara and César Chávez. During my visits I continually reflected on what connections I had with this community as an artist, a Latino, and as a gay man.

Returning home to Los Angeles, I made several drawings of these characters on translucent vellum. On a light table I laid them side by side so that it seemed they were almost embracing. Soon after, I began collecting images of people kissing, from the Pope kissing the head of a small child, to the deep throat kissing found in pornography. I created several other fictionalized pairings of historical characters kissing one another and decided to paint the final works onto plexiglass light boxes. During the run of the exhibition they lit up onto the streets in reference to the stained glass of churches or cathedrals.

I realized that joining these two almost cult figures in Latino culture, positioned them on the frontline of a very different cause, subverting and redefining the rhetoric to which they had historically been so entrenched.

The exhibition caused a mass hysteria that swirled around the neighborhood of the Mission and ultimately caused the destruction of this painting.* Ironically the window smashing occurred on the 15th of September 1997, the day Latinos march to celebrate their independence.

AWP Austin 2006

I will be there. Will you? I know I said that last year. But this time I have no excuses! In fact, I'm being forced to go. I'm already looking forward to a lot of panels. Especially this one:

Chicano Politics and the Activist-Writer in American Literature. (Rigoberto
Gonzalez, Moderator, Helena Maria Viramontes, Alicia Gaspar de Alba, Lorna Dee
Cervantes, Benjamin Alire Saenz).

The recent deaths of groundbreaking Chicano activists, writers and
intellectuals--among them Gloria Anzaldua, Corky Gonzales and Lalo
Delgado--have posed a challenge to the Chicano community: to reaffirm
identity and mission in a time when the pan-Latino vision is blurring our
specific sociohistorical trajectory. This discussion with renown Chicano
thinkers will focus on the role of the Chicano activist-writer in the new

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Book Contests with Fall/Winter Deadlines

Zoo Press has a great list of book contests with fall/winter deadlines.


Here's a newish book prize. You can even submit electronically. Check it out.

Monday, August 29, 2005

August 29th

Chicano Moratorium

35 Years Later, Protesters Say It Again


Ron Mohring has a blog. It's true, and the blog goes by the name Supple Amounts. He was kind enough to leave a comment on my little ol' blog to tell me about Richard Tayson's first book The Apprentice of Fever. The book is now on my list.

Mr. Broder is wondering if he's ever met me over at his fab blog. No, we haven't. But I'm sure we will.

Where Have I Been?

Okay, I just discovered that I have access to XM satellite radio through AOL. The options are amazing. Right now I'm listening to new wave 80s: New Order, 'til tuesday, Pet Shop Boys. I'm in heaven. Pinch me! No, not there. Yes, there. Oh, do it again...
Okay, I just read the first issue of Bloom, and I'm blown away. Why wasn't I told about this journal? I freaking adored Bernard Cooper's essay "The Love Connection, 1986." I laughed out loud so many times while reading it. I even snorted a couple of times. Like a pig.
OMG! XM radio has an all Madonna channel and an all Selena channel. I will never leave my room again.
I was moved to tears by Richard Yayson's poem "I Do." It starts off with the speaker buying wedding bands for his upcoming wedding to another man. After buying the rings the speaker goes to a bar (Hell yeah! Hall and Oates' Out of Touch just started playing!) and he becomes emotional reading the declarations of love engraved into the bar counter: Michael loves Robert, etc. He heads home and finds his lover on the couch in his underwear. They cuddle, and kiss. The speaker can feel the living room filling up with their relatives and friends, dead or alive. It's a great moment: the two lovers radiating and receiving love. I can't describe the ending because I'm tearing up again. Needless to say, it's an affirmation of love between two men. Of the possibility. Richard Yayson, thank you for writing this poem.
Is there a pop song that's more trashy, more perfect than Kelly Clarkson's Since U've Been Gone? I don't think so. You better recognize.
I loved Aaron Smith's poem "Dark, Awful Man." The speaker in the poem doesn't enjoy bottoming (hard to believe!!) during sex. With the help of his therapist the speaker connects his problem to his mother telling him only "certain" people get AIDS. I too had this fear for the longest time. Still do, I guess. I've been working on an essay that connects my weight issues with my fear of catching AIDS. Huh? Maybe an example will illuminate things. In high school I worked as a bag boy in a grocery store. One day the manager asked me if I was working out because he thought I'd lost a few pounds. That freaked me out. I didn't want to lose weight. I didn't want to be viewed as "attractive" by others. That could possibly lead to sexual activity. That could possibly lead to catching it. Wow, I've got issues.
I just stumbled upon Islands in the Stream: the duet between Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. Bliss!
I was in grade school when the movie 9 to 5 came out, but I remember playing out some of the scenes from the movie on the playground with my friends. Guess who always played the part of Dolly's character? Me, me, me!
I also got a kick out of Myra Mniewski's poem "A Good Butch is Hard to Find" which begins: "It all started with me/ putting on those/ boxer shorts..."
Let me just say this: I'm a HollaBack Girl! This post is bananas. B-a-n-a-n-a-s.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

La Sandra

I love this photograph of Sandra Cisneros. I do believe she's in her PJs. Get it!!

Her photograph is part of the Smithsonian photo exhibit on Latino achievement.

Shit List: Bloggers Who Are Still Linking to My Deleted Blog

These bloggers are on my shit list UNTIL they change their blogrolls. Yes, yes. I have no life. Get over it. I have.

Matt Shindell

Update: Stuart has done the honorable thing.

Julie Dill has joined Stuart.

Welcome Antoine Wilson to the after party. Pocoloca: I like it, I like it.

T.E. Ballard, who is a chick in case you didn't know, has joined the party.

The sweet Kelli Russell Agodon is now wearing a party hat!

Sodomites Unite!

Here's a great review of a new biography on the "secret" life of Oscar Wilde.

Some choice cuts:

" the very title of The Importance of Being Earnest is a Uranian pun....Among less literary Uranians, 'earnest' -- a corruption of the French uraniste -- enjoyed a short vogue as a coded signifier of Uranian inclinations" (as in "is he earnest?" to mean "is he gay?)"

"On the day 16-year-old Wilde left Portora Royal School, where he'd been a student, a boy a year younger than he -- with whom he'd had a strong "sentimental friendship" --came to the train station to bid him farewell. In McKenna's re-telling, as the Dublin train was about to depart, the boy turned and cried out, "Oh, Oscar!" "Before I knew what he was doing he had caught my face in his hands, and kissed me on the lips. The next moment ... he was gone." Wilde felt "cold sticky drops" trickling down his face -- they were the boy's tears. "This is love," he said to himself, trembling slightly."

Congrats Karla!

Karla Kelsey, one of my Iowa classmates, won this year's
Sawtooth Poetry Prize. I'm a bit late in posting my congrats. But congrats Karla! Her book will be titled Knowledge, Forms, The Aviary.

Sarabande' 2005 Literary Contest Winner: Poetry

For the Kathryn A. Morton Prize in Poetry, judge Tony Hoagland selected The New Year of Yellow by Matthew Lippman. Matthew Lippman teaches English and Creative Writing at Chatham High School on Long Island and has been a member of the faculty, Writing Division, in Columbia University's Summer Program for High School Students. He received his MFA at the University of Iowa and his Masters in English Education from Teachers College, Columbia University. His poetry has been published in such journals as The American Poetry Review, The Iowa Review, and The Best American Poetry of 1997. He is a recipient of the James Michener/Paul Engle Poetry Fellowship from the University of Iowa and a NY Foundation of the Arts Grant for his fiction. The New Year of Yellow will be published by Sarabande in January 2007

Saturday, August 27, 2005

Is He? Or Isn't He?

I know it doesn't matter. But I gotz to know. Anybody out there know
Ben Lerner. LOL. This really isn't none of my business. Never mind. Don't ask him. I can live with the mystery.

Mid-West Fun!

On Saturday I'm attending the Urbana Sweetcorn Festival. Good thing I like corn. Good thing I really like corn.

Eat your heart out New Yorkers!

The festival also features a book market with local and university presses. Jon Tribble and Alison Joseph are going to be there to promote the Crab Orchard Prize books. In the evening a group of us will be going out to dinner with them. I've never met them, but I've only heard good things about them.

Would it be tacky to show them my poetry collection over dinner? Just kidding. Really.

Friday, August 26, 2005


Check out two wonderful prose poems by Wendy Wisner over at Verse Daily.


Last Friday, on the second day of first grade, my nephew Alexei, who has a tendency to get a little homesick, began to cry in his classroom. The teacher asked him, Why are you crying? He said, I'm crying because my grandma can't find a job!

What a liar! His grandma is retired. To teach him a lesson I'm posting one of his embarrassing toddler photographs.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize Deadline: January 6, 2006

Attention Latino/a poets!

The deadline for the Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize is coming up fast: January 6, 2006. The winner will receive $1000 and publication by the University of Notre Dame Press under a standard contract, as well as an invitation from the Creative Writing Program of the University of Notre Dame to read from his/her work, along with the judge, upon publication of the book, with all expenses paid.

This year's judge is Valerie Martínez.

You can find the guidelines here.

Let's get the word out about this prize! Email this information to your poet friends and to your teachers. And yes, I'm talking to all of my gringo readers as well. You hear me? Forward this information to the Latino/a poets/teachers you know.

This award--the only one geared toward finding and publishing first books by Latino/a poets--is given out every two years. The 2004 winner was Sheryl Luna. And you know what? Her book, Pity the Drowned Horses, kicks ass. Here's a good review.



I'm happy to report that I will be in the upcoming Digerati anthology to be published by three candles press. Steve Mueske, the editor, has also picked these poets for the anthology:

Peter Pereira
TE Ballard
Aaron Anstett
Alison Pelegrin

He's still reading submissions. In fact, he wants more submissions sent to him. If you're interested please submit to:

c/o three candles press
PO Box 1817
Burnsville MN 55378

The Drama Queen of the Week

is AD Thomas. He's not blogging! He's blogging! Etc.

He posted a translation (his own) of a Nicanor Parra poem on his blog. I like the translation, but that won't keep him from being named this week's Drama Queen.

Congrats AD!

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

I've Got Issues

I saw this picture of George W. Bush today, and I got all hot and bothered. What's wrong with me? I detest his administration. But I have "adult" dreams about him.

I need help.

I'll Take Snot on My Rejection Letter! Greenish Snot!

Mackenzie Carignan received a letter of rejection from the Beloit Poetry Journal, and she discovered "food smears" on the letter. And an oily fingerprint! LOL. Of course, I'm laughing because it didn't happen to me. This would totally gross me out.

But it could've been worse. Just imagine! Mackenize is making a list of ""at least it wasn't" over at her blog. She writes: What is the most horrifying substance you can imagine to be slathered all over your rejection slip AND rejected poems? Toe jam is at the top of my list.


The Arrest of the Paleteros by Frank Romero.

Click HERE to view the slide show of Marin's art collection.

What I'm Reading Right Now

Six Girls Without Pants by Paisley Rekdal
The Devil's Garden by Adrian Matejka
In the City of Smoking Mirrors by Albino Carrillo
Surviable World by Ron Mohring
One Girl Babylon by Ruth Ellen Kocher

Jose Guadalupe Posada

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

PayPal This!

You can pre-order Paul Guest's second book HERE, and Jenny Sadre-Orafai's chapbook HERE.

Monday, August 22, 2005

MFA Program Rankings

I found this information (thanks to Lee Anderson) at the Poets & Writers Speakeasy forum:

...When timlockridge posted that new rankings were available [of MFA programs] I went right over to USNews website and bought the new 2006 grad school rankings (there was no way to tell from the site what programs were included without forking over the cc#). Then, after searching the site and finding absolutely nothing, I sent them an email asking whether the writing program rankings had been updated, and requesting a refund if they hadn't. Here's their response:

Unfortunately we no longer rank creative writing. The last time we did so was in 1997 and you can find most of these rankings in local libraries.

What's up with that? I wonder why USNews stopped ranking MFA programs? Not enough interest from buyers of the grad school book? Or maybe they're reconfiguring the way to "judge" MFA programs?

Another forum member posted an article about FSU's MFA program, and in that article you find this sentence: In 2007, the National Research Council will publish a new ranking of creative writing programs.

So maybe there's hope for all of you upcoming MFAers! You too will be able to pour over rankings, hoping your application only gets accepted by the top programs! One can only hope...

If I had to do it all over again, I would say Fuck You to Iowa, and go work with Rita Dove, Charles Wright, and Gregory Orr over at Virginia. Sigh. Now, I'm depressed.

Sunday, August 21, 2005


It's been a Belle & Sebastian kind of Saturday. How much do I love "This is Just a Modern Rock Song?" THIS MUCH. And why do I love it? Because some much of it is unnecessary.
Charles posted a link to a great online discussion featuring Aaron Smith, Jason Schneiderman, and Richard Siken. What unites all three of these poets? Things that glimmer. And cake.
Today, as I walked through the park, I saw a deer leap and leap in the tall grass.

That deer, I said out loud, is a sissy.
Okay, was I the last queen to know that Ben Lerner is a homo? Thank Buddha I'm no longer under that rock.
I love this poem.
"I'm Waking Up to Us" has such killer lyrics: and if I look like death today/please let her know.

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Poetic Justice

Two Illegal Immigrants Win Arizona Ranch in Court from the
The New York Times.

Friday, August 19, 2005


My blogroll is up and running. If I missed you, drop me a note. And if you're linking to my blog please make sure you're linking to this blog NOT my old blog which has become a ring tones site.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Drive This!

One of the images on my collage of muses is this "Mexifornia" driver license. When I first saw it--about a year ago--I just brushed it off as more ignorant fluff. But the image stayed with me. The politics behind the image are obvious. All you need to know is that image originated in Califas. Still don't get it? Okay, some people think "illegal" aliens are taking over California. Overwhelming the schools, the hospitals, etc. Some people don't even want "illegals" or their children in the school system, or receiving any entitlement benefits. Suffer the little children indeed. This image surfaced when some politicians wanted to offer driver licenses to "illegals." Got it?

I printed out this image and tacked it to my wall. The X-as-signature struck a cord with me. In fact, it hurt me. How dare someone imply stupidity as a trait of my gente. Or even worse: the X-as-signature implied an inability to speak out. Intellectually, I knew this just wasn't true. My gente have always spoken out, and defended themselves. Dolores Huerta. Alianza Hispano-Americano. Juanita de Downieville. Corridos.

I had to do something with the hurt. So I took out my notebook. I wanted to give a voice to that X. But I didn't want to create minority Saints. All knowing brown people without flaws. My first efforts were trite, and didactic. So I continued to write and eventually three voices emerged. Two belonged to "illegal" aliens, and one to a border patrol agent. Needless to say, I was surprised by the agent's arrival. LOL. A sonnet-like form for each voice also began to emerge. All of sudden, the poems were done. Or so I thought. I sent them off to one of my friends, and he pointed out some weak things in the third poem. So I rewrote and rewrote until the poem felt finished.

I titled the sequence "Border Triptych" and dedicated it to one of my favorite writers, Gloria Anzaldúa. Click here to read the poems. I think I accomplished what I set out to do. The speakers in these poems feel real to me. The speakers are not minority Saints. They are flawed. They are brave. They are human.

That X-as-signature no longer haunts me.

Two Wonderful Things!

Stuart Greenhouse and his wife just had a baby. Okay, his wife had the baby, but I'm sure Stuart sweated a lot during the process. Why do men have it so easy?
Shin Yu Pai has posted beautiful photographs of her wedding over at her blog. I love the name of her husband, Kort.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005


I had the pleasure of being published this summer in the very first issue of Churchyard edited by Dan Pirkl. To celebrate I'm offering a contest.


The first three people who correctly ID the poet who wrote the following lines will win a copy of the journal. PLEASE EMAIL ME YOUR RESPONSE.

...the full-breasted tulips
open their pink blouses
for the hands that pressed them first
as bulbs into the earth
You'll also find the work of these fine poets and bloggers in the first issue: Charles, Tony, Jenny, and Sisyphus,

For Diana Delgado

Eduardo Verastegui

Monday, August 15, 2005

Collage of Muses

I just finished putting up a collage of paintings, poets, and other assorted things/people that inspire me. And where did I put this collage? On the wall right behind my computer screen. And what images did I put up? Here's the list:

Papa Smurf
A painting by Kasmir Malevich
Frida Kahlo
Rita Dove
A picture of 3 braceros
Cyndi Lauper
Two paintings by Tino Rodriguez
Robert Hayden
A Mexifornia driver license for an "illegal" alien

Through out the year I will be adding more images to my collage. I love to look at these images while I write. They're very comforting. Correction: the Mexifornia license is not comforting, but it does remind me of one of the reasons I write. Also, when I get frustrated at my lack of progress I will stare at one image until my mind calms down. Ain't I cool?

I'm sure a lot of other writers have certain images near their writing spaces to inspire them. I wonder if Rebecca Loudon has a collage of muses near her writing space? Do you?

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Double Yeah!

And the winner of the 2005 LUIS LEAL AWARD is one of my favorite


Dear Mr. Whimsy Speaks,

I love your blog. It's fun and informative. Like Trivial Pursuit. Like a sex education textbook. Like Tony Robinson's anger. I even think you're handsome in a Pa Walton kinda of way. Only one thing bothers me. Will you please remove me from the R.I.P. list? It's freaking me out.


Eduardo C. Corral

Hell Yeah!

Desert Flower

It takes a thousand desaparecidas
in Cuidad Juarez to equal
one white girl vanished in Aruba.

It’s always been that way
and it won’t change anytime soon.
The Minute Men don’t wear hoods,

but they should.
The Minute Men are proud citizens
but not Americans,

they crawl like Gila monsters,
scorpions on the desert floor,
they're rattlesnakes that rattle their tail-guns.

They want their sons
to grow up in a country
so white, so right, so bright

like the desert sun
beating down on Mexican bones
until it drives the wind insane.

Reyes Cardenas

Wedding Picture: The Family

Friday, August 12, 2005

Is GC Waldrep the new Virgil Suárez ?

Oklahoma is NOT for Homos

We made it.

I'm blogging from a computer lab on the University of Illinois (I've finally learned how to spell that word) because we can't figure out how to "turn on" the internet at our place. We've got five degrees between us and we still can't figure out some basic technology.

Urbana is very pretty. It reminds me of Iowa City: the corn fields, the mock-Victorian homes, the white white white population. And it's very humid. I'm sweating through my t-shirts. And the good people of Urbana don't want to see my love handles bulging through my wet t-shirt.

This computer lab is gorgeous. Tall wood columns. Latticed oval windows embedded along the ceiling. The corridor leading to the lab is lined with old card catalogs.

Now for more tales from the trip.


After we'd finished our lunch at CJ's we stepped back into my car, and Rigo began to look for his cell. He couldn't find it. So he asked me to call him on my cell so we could locate his by the ringing. Fine. I call him up. We couldn't hear the ringing. Rigo starts to worry. We should go back inside to look for it, he says. We step out of the car. I turn around and look at my seat. I see his cell. It was UNDER my ass the whole time. Rigo breaks into fits of laughter. I refuse to believe my ass "muffled" the ringing! It can't be! I say the ringer was off. It must've been! Otherwise, my ass is some sort of sound wave black hole. Maybe I should go work for the CIA.

And yes, I called him again to see if his ringer was indeed on or off. Alas, I can't bring myself to report the results.


We spent day two with one of Rigo's best friends: Eric aka Cholojoto. He took us out for dinner, and we visited some fun seedy 'Burque bars. The seedier the bar the prettier I became...


We left 'Burque around 8am. It only took us a couple of hours to leave New Mexico (I prefer the Old) and then we entered Texas. We didn't go through the waist of Texas, just its top hat. The landscape was flat. Once in a while a mesquite would pop up.

The gay music continued to rise like gasoline fumes from the speakers: Juan Gabriel,
Rufus Wainwright. And we came THIS close to listening to my Debbie Gibson "best of" CD.

We stopped at a Stucky's to gas up and to grab a bite to eat. We filled up the tank, but we refused to eat there. Have you ever been in a Stucky's? Yuck. Our first clue should've been the velvet paintings for sale displayed in the front window. The restaurant looked cheap and dirty. I swear I saw oily doilies on a counter. Somebody loves us all.

We left Stucky's (I missed the on-ramp and we drove on historic Route 66 for a while until we found another on-ramp) and stopped to eat at this faux-Mexican chain restaurant called On the Border. The rice was bland, and the rojo sauce was bland. Speedy Gonzalez is more authentic than this place.

We got back on the road, and we zoomed out of Texas by 2pm.

We entered Oklahoma, and the landscape remained the same. Until now, the trip had been pretty simple. Get on interstate and drive. But in Oklahoma City we had to get onto a couple of turnpikes and drive on toll roads. Our Map Quest directions seemed pretty straight forward, but of course, we got lost on the turnpike. We exited the turnpike and we found ourselves in a sparse residential area. We got a little nervous. It was getting dark, and we were lost. (Cue horror film music!) We turned right, and decided to ask for directions at the first place we reached. We drove into a parking lot full of cars. We looked at the building: it was a Southern Baptist Church. We both looked at each other, and decided not to go in. We just didn't feel safe. And that's very sad. Two guys can't enter a house of G-d to ask for directions because of fear. I'm sure they were nice people and such, but the acts and statements of their mother organization makes it clear that they don't like our kind.

We got back on the turnpike, and luckily we found the correct interstate: i-44. And off we sped.

More later.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Car Trip: Day One

Yesterday, we left Casa Grande and embarked on the gayest road trip ever. How gay? These are some of the CDs we listened to: Bananarama, Belinda Carlise, and Isabel Pantoja.

90 mintues into the trip we stopped at Cordes Junction, Arizona for lunch. We ate at this dive called CJ's. We had to drive on a dirt road to reach it. I had a gross cheeseburger, and Rigo had a yummy BBQ chix sandwich.

My poor Saturn! It huffed and puffed its way up the mountains. I had to call my brother on my cell to ask him what gear I should be using while driving uphill. But I can proudly say I finally used the 2 and 3 gears of my car. Now, I'm real butch. I'm thinking of becoming a NASCAR driver. Or at least a biker bitch.

In Flagstaff we hit a sudden thunderstorm. The highway flooded quickly with water. For a few minutes I couldn't see the white lines. I almost drove off the freaking road! Thank goodness we were listening to Belinda Carlise's sweet sweet song "Mad About You." Her voice calmed my nerves. Thanks Belinda!

Then the dark clouds moved past us.

The landscape flattened as we entered Navajo country. The High Country. Columns of clouds. Blue above us. Though I must say gas prices were crazy expensive in Navajo land. What's up with that? If only my car used cigarettes as fuel!

From Navajo country it took us about three and half hours to reach 'Burque, New Mexico. Guess whose house I'm staying at for a day and a half? Cholojoto's house!
So far, Cholojoto has been a wonderful host.

Cholojoto: come back and pester my blog! Please.

More later.

Saturday, August 06, 2005

Rigo is Here

and he's bored. He says Casa Grande is boring. Duh! Poor thing. Today he had to endure two hours of waiting at the Saturn dealership as my silver blue bullet was serviced. Ha ha. Then we went out to eat at Olive Garden, and then to do some last minute shopping at Target (he bought a shirt and some boxer briefs.) Okay, I did.

Right now, he's on my bed reading Dana Levin's Wedding Day. Now he's reading a poem out loud. And we're listening to Coldplay's new CD. He doesn't like the music.

He's dying for a martini. A Dirty Absolute martini. He's got issues. He brushes his teeth with Tecate.

Now we're talking trash about some people. It might be YOU. Chances are good.

Tonight we're going out for drinks at a new dive in Maricopa.

Now he's flipping through my copy of 1913: A Journal of Forms. He's impressed with Scott Inguito's poems. We both think Scott is hot. Okay, only I do.

Call me crazy, but I really like the latest Coldplay album.

Rigo just asked me whatever happened to Scott. Scott is in San Francisco planning his wedding to his Beloved. And teaching at local community colleges. And, of course, writing poems. He's a nice boy.

Rigo wants to go. He's thirsty.

Hell no! I won't go until my Dear Readers get the full picture of our afternoon!

We're wondering about Oliver de la Paz. Has he made it to his new home in Washington?

He is now reading my copy of Greg Williamson's Errors in the Script. He says Greg is very cute.

He's now standing before my tiny closet and laughing at my meager clothes. He's a mean bitch. Okay, he gave me a dirty look. He's bragging about his two packed walk-in closets in his new place in Urbana. Our new place.

I really really really like the new Coldplay album!

Rigo likes Daddy Yankee. Whoever that is.

He just said this is the must boring and stupid blog post ever. That's why he doesn't read my blog, he said. Or anybody else's. Right.

Arriba Juarez!

We're going to name our new two-story apartment El Noa Noa.

Some of you might be asking who the hell Rigo is. Rigo is Rigoberto Gonzalez. He's got a few books out. Some of them are even good. Okay, only one.

Now he thinks I'm the bitch.

He just said something, but he won't let me write down what he said.

Over and out. We're off to see the Wizard.

He likes little men who hide behind smoke and mirrors.

He's like that.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

I'm Back

Whew! The drama of the wedding is over. My younger brother is now a married man. Now, if only I could find a man and move to Canada. Do you hear me Daniel Nester?
Mexico always does something to me. I'm always stunned by its beauty, and ugliness. I don't have the language to describe the happiness and the sadness that overwhelms me when I'm in Mexico.
I found a great 20 peso coin featuring Ocativo Paz while in Mexico. It was issued in 2000 in a limited run. But I got one!
My poor brother. He can't dance. Picture a post swaying in wind.
Congrats to C. Dale Young: his second book will be published by Four Way Books. Just between us, I'm buying it for the author photo. I hear chest shots are involved! And for the poem "Torn."
And one of my favorite bloggers is back. Welcome back LAR!
The colors for the wedding: peach and white. It was a Creamsicle-colored event.
My mom always carries her cash in Mexico in a wad tucked in the right cup of her bra. I've nicknamed her BANATETA.
A shout of congrats goes out to Charlie Jensen who was a finalist in a book prize.