April 29, 2006

Karel Appel General or Specific?

Karel Appel was asked "How do your ideas come to you? How do you find them?

He said, "Do I really "find" them? What I try to do is just remain open so as to register the perpetual meamorphosis of the world. The eye remains on the alert, like a radar."

"It's difficult for us to get off the rails of routine. We stop seeing the world. Our gaze becomes fixed, the world grinds to a halt. It's death closing in."

"In every artist there's an eternal nomad. By that I mean he can't settle dowm, make himself a niche in things as they are, what's established in any society..."

"Matter was not to be possesed , but to be transformed."

"Van Gogh made me see that will power is maybe more important and fertile than talent."

"The obstinate ursuit of rational investigation means the end of a contemplative approach to the world. A preconceived rationality often means nothing more than cultural superstition."

"It was in Peru that I came to udnerstand better the meaning of my own "kinetic" experience, as I watched the people living."

"There's no single 'key' to explain things."

"I refuse viscerally any conception of society that tends to turn us into prisoners. Prisoners of othe rpoeple or of ourselves!"

Posted by Michael Diezmos at 11:53 AM | Comments (0)

April 17, 2006

meeting with friends and family

meeting up with friends and family is inspiring
from thursday to sunday- family time
thursday afternoon, met up with high school friend, recalled the unbelievability of time passing
friday evening, met with family friend, celebrated an early birthday
saturday afternoon, met up with college friend, walked in Philadelphia downtown looking at free public art around city hall, market street, JKF Park, Benjamin Franklin Parkway, Moore College, Calder's collection, Rodin's Musem, the Rocky steps of the Art Museum, the skyline
saturday evening, met with grade school friend, talked about various things from the most politically incorrect subjects (mestizo, identity, citizenship etc.) to anime with eastern philosophy of yin and yang (balance, dark side and light), suffering characters
sunday morning- parents brought me to train station, parents revealed their pragmaticism to the point of irrationality (but completely understandable). According to them no convertibles for me because somebody will throw a bomb at the car while i'm driving, my rationalization, if whoever is going to throw a bomb, it doesn't matter what I drive (a car is a car and no matter what the car's going to get damaged)... moved the conversation to a more pleasant topic of Grad School...
sunday afternoon- train ride to SHU, digging and loving Melissa Ethridge's new cd "Lucky," did some work...

Posted by Michael Diezmos at 12:03 AM | Comments (0)

April 16, 2006


lately I've been watching philippine TV on cable- feature-like interview/coverage and "expose," it made me think about media coverage from other countries (not the U.S.), since the west sets the "standard" I wanted to see how they were similar or different.

I didn't watch enough to be able to tell the difference. Some of the juxtaposition, I found were interesting especially this 'human interest' story they did where they covered about organizing a place whether home or work (cleaning up the mess) and followed by this story on protecting coral reefs specifically the ones that surrounded Philippines. They went back and forth covering points, basically paralleling the former to the latter.

In some ways it was distracting, but the transition made it smooth. The overall theme was there, and I understood the association about messy personal human living quarters reflecting the damaged ocean ecosystem specifically the reefs. It addressed two issues, they complimented each other, which revealed the significance and the relationship between the two. It made it well-rounded by taking a personal issue and globalizing it (using analogy, metaphor, cause and effect).

The really gory stuff followed it. It was an expose, dealing with a manual for the disposal of dead person and a barrel load of dead babies piled up (think "pickled"). The news station was tipped and they showed the blur images of the dead babies. Before the explanation, the first thing that came to my mind was black market stem cell research. Then they explained that the dead babies where passed to the funeral home to be disposed of. The funeral home being unsanitary hadn't been doing their job.

I was thinking how rights are affected by this expose (if somewhere in the Philippine law, there's privacy rights and warrants). They didn't bust in, rather they had a surprised "sanitary inspection." the people acted all nonchalant but as the health authorities questioned them in depth, they incriminated themselves (once again, issues of right- right to be silent, to have an attorney--- I know these rights are specific to the U.S.--- however Philippines is a democratic country and their government is modeled after the West).

Seeing how effective the authorities moved and handled the issue (concern for the genral health of the people-- improperly disposed dead people can spread some kind of outbreak, my grotesque mind was thinking of resident evil babies), their actions made me wonder, if protecting rights of the criminal in this situation would delay the prosecution or save him so he could continue doing more bad things, sometimes overt criminal acts and innocent until proven guilty are impediments and red tape bueaucracy... journalism, tv media exposing the truth in expose- vigilante?

Posted by Michael Diezmos at 1:33 AM | Comments (0)

April 15, 2006

Maybe it was the moon

Maybe it was the full moon shrouded by cloud mist that could account for the craziness of learning while having fun, or could it be spring (life) burgeoning, trees retain their bare look as yellow-green leaves bloom-- a diaphonous fashion. Or maybe it was the delicious $2.75 White Chocolate Strawberry Torte Cake or the Caramel Frap and Green Tea Frap, I had in Starbucks. Well whatever it was, I found myself applying almost everything I'm learning this semester to the three movies I watched at the Ritz.

The first film my friend and I watched is called L'enfant (French for 'The Child'). I had no idea what this film was about. I read the blurb written on the movie poster: "tour de force" and something blah blah "artsy" "compelling." I had two summer semester of Elementary French (15 weeks, 4 days, 4 hours per day in various texts- movie, music, television news, children's picture books, cuisine, art, etc) so the sounds weren't foreign to me. I recognized some of the vocabulary and grammar composition. The word that stood out the most was "d'argent" which meant "money" (hmmm I wonder why?).

The pace was slow. Right away I questioned the plot (Writing of Fiction, Publication Workshop). Plot versus story (Why and how versus when). Only trouble is interesting rang in my head. Basically the movie is about a very young couple who just had a child. I figured that the title was a pun. It begs the questions: who's raising who? who's the child? Metaphorically, the child is the young parent. Literally it was the baby. The fact that this is basis of the whole movie presents tension (underlying conflict of providing for this newborn while at the same time growing up for the characters). Clues scattered showing the immaturity of the characters: wasting money, playing with food, bad behavior like stealing, being selfish etc.

***Caveat: Here's where I destroy the ending by revealing it for anyone interested in watching the movie.

My writing teachers imparted in me the mantra of "make your characters suffer," "torture them," "forget ethical issue of the death penalt(electric chair), this issue doesn't apply in writing." So while watching, I wondered: how this character was going to suffer? what's the main conflict? the action? the theme? I started guessing.

The beginning characterized the protagonist as irresponsible, and provided background. Then it progressed to the male character being in debt, needing money, then he came up with this brilliant idea-- why not sell his newborn son to this shady underground adoption agency that sells and buys newborn baby (crises)?

cause and effect
His girlfriend fainted, she was brought ot the hospital, she told the police, he went back called the dealer and ask for the baby back...

I was thinking "make the character suffer"

the dealer told him to meet in this garage (at first I thought that there was no way the dealers would return the baby)
they asked him to give back the money and his sell phone, I thought that they would lock him in the garage, run away with the money, the baby and his cellphone--- to my surprise they gave him back the baby, but now he owns them because according to them it cost them extra for backing out of the deal...

once the baby is back, his girlfirend is pissed- tension high, i saw how the girl ignored him and how he tried to gain back her trust (the "no" dialogue)

problems rise- now some kind of low class mafia is after him, his girlfriend rejects him, he needs money. he called one of his contact, who was a kid younger than him. He borrowed the kids scooter and invited the kid to go stealing with him...building up to the climax, the kid got caught, the main protagonist 'grew up' took responsibility for his actions and turned himself in. The conclusion was his girlfriend visited him in prison, it was implied that his girlfriend knew what he did, and felt sorry for him, forgave him. they cried, the end (it was this abrupt too in the movie).

The second movie was more of a documentary about oppression specifically in the gay community and how sex was used to celebrate liberation. This documentary was aptly titled Gay Sex in the 70s. There were hilarous moments when the interviewee were candid but also there were graphic images. What was poignant was what the commentator said about"not being alone, striving for human contact" (even if at the price of sexual exchange and its not yet recognized disease AIDS).

Gays who came out were the flower child of the hippies who continued to question authority (distrust them, why should they believe the government who told them that whatever they were doing was immoral?, when hundreds thousands of people died listening to the government). Then it was revealed to me how the stereotype of gay men's promiscuity began, sexual liberation (Kate Chopin). Twentieth Centruy Art (Ross Bleckner), ---the "politics of the personal"---- gays have been suppressed for so long, take away the reign and they took advantage of that without thinking about consequences, in the 80s, AIDS started showing up (illustrating how the older generation affected the younger ones).

The third movie had more of an obvious plot compared to the first one (especially over the documentary). It was romantic. It was called Marilyn Hotchkiss' Ballroom Dancing and Charm School (reminded me of musical dace, Jazz, and the fiction writing mantra- "fiction can go inside the heads of people revealing their thoughts rather than audience interpreting facial expressions). I like the idea of the movie.

Basically the premise: a guy on the way to meet his "sweetheart" for Hotchkiss' Ballroom dance lessons got into a car accident. Another guy (makes bread for a living), who recently lost his wife crossed paths with this injured guy and called 911 for help--- in order to keep the guy in the car accident conscious, the bread guy had to talk to him, this was when his plan to meet his "sweetheart" was revealed. The bread guy ended up promising the dying man that he would go to the dance class to tell the sweetheart that he kept his promise.

The bread guy never found the sweetheart, BUT instead he found dancing therapeutic (to drive away his demons, helped him move on with his life, let go of his dead wife, finding new love). Later it was revealed that the "sweetheart" didn't go to the school, she got the invitation, and she kept a box full of memorabilia of the dead guy (car accident), their love was never realized, they never acted upon it, the desicions they made separated them from each other (the guy went to prison, she was just by herself, cranky)- when the guy finally decided to act on it, he got into a car accident and died...

I liked the idea a lot. However, the flashbacks were overused. There was a flashback within a flashback. The flashbacks distorted and jumbled the timeline and the pace. I understood now how Movies can get away with this technique more frequently than fiction writing. I was reminded of point of view. There were three main ones: the car accident guy, the bread guy, and the sweetheart.

everytime the car guy reminisced, time slowed down (I get that this is like your whole life flashes before your eyes time is relative). It's just incongruous with the rest (it wasn't so cohesive-- even the French "avant-garde" film was more unified). I recognized how the camera jumped "head." The bread guy found the sweetheart in her trailer, he left after telling her about the car guy. The camera then zoomed to the sweetheart as she opened the box of memorabilia... later on the movie ended, it flashback to the statement the car guy made in the beginning of the whole movie-- this was where it was revealed that he was in prison and he just got out. Overall the time used in Marilyn...'s was more circular as opposed to the linear order of L'enfant and Gay sex in the 70s .

All the movies were fun and educational. It's good to know that things I'm learning in college are actually being processed in my head...

Posted by Michael Diezmos at 10:43 AM | Comments (0)

April 13, 2006

getting home

so what an adventure, the train actually arrived on time, and it was just a beautiful day, leaving Greensburg 8:01 am, the atmosphere reminded me of Frederick's painting (this German Romantic artist), especially since there were some fog, the light was diffused, soft lilac in the sky, it literally looked like egg yolks breaking (the yellow part),

I got to do some work although didn't finish them, I got to Philly and I rushed to get home so I could catch my 4:20 pm ortho. app., drove my emerald toyota through montgomary ave., oh how I missed driving, I drove fast but carefully and I made it on time, spent $250 for new retainers,

then met my friend, there were many confusions which ended up in not getting a dessert on the one hand, caramel frap was good, ranted about being rejected by Grad school,

At 9 pm,I finally met my mom and dad and bro (everything's swell with them), surprisingly my room was clean, and Sammy the flowering plant had bloomed one flower for me (a welcome home blossom)

Posted by Michael Diezmos at 10:39 PM | Comments (0)

April 12, 2006

something new, coincidence?

I may have lost my cd player, but I found Bob, BOB FM (I think it's 96.point something). He plays mostly early 90s salternative, but once in a while, he'll sneak in Madonna or something. BOB likes commercial because according to him, without it music can't be played. And if the songs are good, he'll play them. BOB FM advertises for Laser Eye surgery (I'm thinking of getting laser eye treatment because Tiger Woods had it, now whenever he's playing golf, itchy, dry eyes or the hassle of contact lens or glasses do not bother him, that's why he's a champion).

Coincidentally too, ever since, my cd player died, I feel like I've rediscovered my inner voice (no, not my consience) Mr. Chipmunk, the Falsetto. Maybe the ability of my cd player to play any type of cds (burned or real) was reincarnated in my larnyx. It's just too much of a coincidence that after the day my cd-player died, I can somewhat reach those high notes that disappeared because of THE ATTACK of THE ALLERGIES...

Posted by Michael Diezmos at 8:20 PM | Comments (2)

April 10, 2006

the audacity

Can you believe it? My cd player quit on me. I put a copied cd in it, and the cd player literally said "no." It didn't vocalized it, the LCD screen where the digits appear for the time, spelled out "no." At first I thought, all of a sudden my cd player became a snob, and it only accepted "real" cd (not the burned ones). I tried a real cd, and it still said no. In a way I was surprised and not.

I was taken aback by this stubborn behavior because a.) I didn't do anything to provoke it to quit, b.)this is my third year with it, and it hasn't acted out before.

Sooner or later, I knew deep down inside that it would break down (I was in denial). I bought this cd player in CVS (I think) for $20. Originally it acted as my alarm clock. The cd player feature was a bonus. I didn't really expect much from it, because it was pretty cheap. I was impressed when I found out that it can play "burned" cds. Even some of the name brands out there can't even do that.

My cd player finally quit. In spite of this, it still functions as a clock, an alarm, and radio. I can always set my alarm to the buzz or country music on the radio. Maybe it's just tired, end of the year stress (coincidentally before it refused to play my cd, I had listened to music in high volume).

It was just audacious that this machine flashed "no" when I pressed the "play" button.

Posted by Michael Diezmos at 7:57 PM | Comments (2)

April 3, 2006

Losing voice

Losing your voice sucks. I'm not talking about freedom of speech (that would suck too), I'm talking about pre-laryngitis literally.

It all began when I spent two days Friday and Saturday, when I pushed myself to exhaustion trying to finish two short-story manuscripts...

Friday night, what was I doing while people are dancing and having their 'fun,' I was down in the 24-hour lounge, finishing my short story "Abduction" for Writing of Fiction minimum 2000 words. The following day Saturday, I finished my first draft for Publication Workshop entitled "A Wake" (minimum six pages, but I actually surpassed it and went to eight pages 2080 words).

I did this 'writing festival' back to back during the weekend with the crazy weather- you know, the type that was nice and warm on Friday, then temperature would drop the next day, the sun would shine, the sky was clear, then it would flurry, then not, then more flurry like a snow globe shaken by the weather god, then Sunday pretty stable like nothing happened.

Of course the pollen took advantage of this and attacked as soon as possible (allergy attack), mucus building up, blowing noses, coughing, now mixed that with verbosity and exhaustion, systems down, larnyx made vulnerable, constant chatting, what do you get? very croaky, hoarse person pushing the limit- the following Friday, I lost my voice, even whispering was detrimental.

Every once in a while your body will tell you "hey buddy, pay attention, I'm not working well...fine don't listen to me I quit," and they will quit on you. Harmony has to be established between you and your body or else. You can't be a dictator to your own body because they won't listen, and they'll just stop functioning.

I should know this by now, I remember during the winter break, I was exhausted that I fainted (I could have slammed my head somewhere sharp). Then one time long before college began, my contact lenses dried in my eyes. Most recently I was so close to getting laryngitis, the nurse said that it took four days to officialize if indeed I had laryngitis. I never had laryngitis before so it was pretty nerve-racking.

I didn't know that whispering was straining my voice. I'd whisper and people thought I was weird. People didn't communicate to me the same way. Some of my friends went on "mother" mode, very caring. Some thought that I was completely handicapped, they limited their output. They forgot that I could still hear and I can still respond by writing.

For the most part, I carried a paper, in it written was "I lost my voice, I can mime or whisper" then later this changed to "I lost my voice, I can whisper" then "I lost my voice, whispering is detrimental." People who didn't know continued to talk to me, I'd point to my throat, some at first thought I was playing charade, some just think I'm odd as usual. Sometimes I forced myself to explain, but it was hopeless.

I took out a sign language book, maybe I can learn signing. I learned how to say "I can't speak" and I reviewed the sign language alphabet. As I was perusing through the book, I learned a bit about grammar in sign language, and learning about how some signs were being formed. I had a little understanding of how it might work.

What was most torturous was thinking about the last thing I did before losing voice. I was singing a lot. Sure I don't have the tantalizing honey-voiced of a tenor or the boyish baritone, sure once in a while I can pull off the vibrato of Snow-White or psuedo soprano also known as a falsetto. I can hit the note, all I have to do is hear it and replicate...

One thing though, this experience helped me to listen, not only to my body but people. I'd communicate with them either by miming or just writing it on a piece of paper (while doing this, I practiced my short-hand, because I want to get my message across as fast as possible)...

As of right now, I don't have laryngitis, but I still feel some of its pre-effects. My throat is still sometimes scratchy, my voice is audible (not in whisper mode), but not yet to the level of singing/belting out chipmunk style. I am grateful for the chances...

Posted by Michael Diezmos at 7:12 PM | Comments (2)


Jazz concert (Westmoreland Art Museum)
Jazz Band in Cecillian
Student Directed Plays
Junior/Senior Recitals
Senior Art Exhibit
Art Fair (Pitt-Greensburg)

High school
The Palace
Center Stage
Mustard Seed

St. Vincent

Posted by Michael Diezmos at 7:08 PM | Comments (0)

April 2, 2006

Gone Totally Touristic: a Weekend in NY

I went to the nurse on Thursday, her diagnosis was not grim but vague. She said that it would take four days to figure out if I had Laryngitis. By Friday morning, I had completely lost my voice. I was heading to New York, the city that never slept except on Sunday mornings, the city blaring with music from Broadway to local and international acts, a very active city...

I'd whisper, and my friend told me that I was straining my voice more, they said that I should use my natural voice even if it was croaky, on the way to NY I'd forget and I 'd whisper, eventually I'd use my 'natural' voice, most of the times I sounded like an out-of-tune flute...


Friday, March 31

stayed in the Pennsylvania Hotel, it was an okay hotel, it wasn't as posh, but the location was terrific, really close to a lot of things (across from Madison Garden, a couple of blocks from the Empire)- lows: fridge that 's not cold, air conditioner that keeps the room warm rather than cold...

starbucks, one in every corner, got a caramel frap under the pseudonym Mark, got a cinnamon dolce lattel under the pseudoym Matea- both extremely delicious

stopped by St. Patrick Cathedral, Rockefeller skating rink, Librarie De France (failed to convince going to MoMA), Went to the NBC store, bought ER pens which looked like needles

super expensive TGIF- compared to Greensburg price, the NY price doubled, we didn't get free refills on our strawberry lemonade slushies, and we couldn't substitue rice for mash potatoe

finding the Ambassador theater, walking around Times Square, stopping by at every souvenir shop trying to find the best deal, crossing streets with tons of people, some carrying a box of grass, some wearinng white chalky lace dress with matching white powdered faces...later finding out that she's a street mime, she did ballet poses (she wasn't like the European type mime that could stay still for a very long time), saw the famous Winter Garden theater (right now playing Mamma Mia)

Watched the musical "Chicago" with theguy from dancing with the stars, one of the cosby girls (rubens), a woman -Lilian/Lillias (who appeared in Sesame street, worked with Oprah, was one of the muse in Disney's Hercules), it was great, our seats weren't that far, the dancing was spectacular (now I understood more about Bob Fosse's style)

Saturday, April 1

Throughout this day, I found it diffifuclt to stay quiet, I was coughing, blowing my nose, drinking water to keep my throat moist, eating halls, took tynenol, dayquil, allegra d, ate fruits..

we woke up early so we could take the subway to south ferry to get to Battery park, we found out that the suoth ferry route was close, we had to take another one that dropped us off Chamber Street, from there, we transfered to a shuttle bus, it was loaded with british kids and parents "little kids, used the word "ancient", we were in-line to go to Liberty Island, on the way we met another mime dressed as Lady Liberty, they were loud ones, they'd call with their megaphone, enticing you to take their pictures, black men with african accents walked around lugging boxes and briefcase yelling "purse, watches, sunglasses".. the wait on the line was like a musical bazaar, first an old spanish dude sang ballad, then a guy with a giant fro covered by green knitted hand played a percussion bowl that sounded like a xylophone/'calypso', a British a-cappela group, who were tourists themselves serenaded the crowd, little Williiam chasing pigeons away...boat ride was okay, wind rearranged people's hairstyle, imapasto/ thick waves stirred, rising and falling green atlantic hazy sky, Lady Liberty fresh mint green brighter than before, segulls floated like kites...Italian couple asking me to take their pictures because "I looked like a photographer"

Ellis Island, they tried to find their ancestors that migrated here on the US a while ago, I just got here in the U.S., so I new there was no way that my name will be on the wall, the closest spelling to my name was 'Diezel.' They traced their roots literally, they had paper and pencil and shaded in relatives that shared their name, ti started to rain. there was an abrupt stopwhen we were in the boat,..back to Battery Park, the shuttle bus took forever so we walked

we saw the sides of many court houses, we saw a house that maybe dedicated to Elizabeth Ann Seton, we might have seen City Hall, we saw the Bronze bull, an african statue of a gian black marbel antelope headdress.. we walked towards Ground Zero, walking through, I heard stories of what others' were doing when it happened,

walked to Chinatown, explored the stores, went through seafood market place, ginger roots laide in basket like barnicles, roasted ducks rotating next to gut, some fish flapped hopelessly, tanks of lobster, people yelling "purses, only 20 dollars"

Had lunch/dinner in Little Italy, lots of outdoor cafes, tomato sauce lingered, 'baisley' baked oven pizza with rosae grande pepperoni, vanilla gelati, manager of restaurant in Italian style with point white shoes and swhite striped blue suit

Subway to 110 street North Central Park, saw Duke Ellington Memorial statue, already night time, didn't ambled to far in the dark park...

then went to the observatory deck in Rockefeller plaza, "top of the rock", not as high as Empire but beautiful, without the obstrusive barsilver bars, instead, large glass, a smiling crescent in the sky, clouds popped out from the dark starless sky, lights dots inverse of the sky

Went to Grand Central Station (constellation on the dome), took pictures, more "times square shopping", hard rock cafe store...walking

Sunday, April 2 (Last Day)

At 8am, went to the Empire State Building, wait not that long, up there, it was a great day look, forecast was clear, see the lands , trees , Staten Island clearly, windy, white water, pigeon bird food, french, Chinese tour groups (influx)

$8.13 Strawberry cheesecake- melts in your mouth, McDonald's, Burger King, Starbucks

Departure between 12 and 1 pm

Minimum spending of cash and credit card total: $200
Memory priceless....

Posted by Michael Diezmos at 11:12 PM | Comments (0)

Empty Camera

He had two more shots left, what would it be? Whatever it was, he was going to use it wisely. He brought an extra roll so he had back up....

"Okay smile, hold on, I'm trying to focus it," he said.

"What's taking so long, we're freezing our asses off, hurry up!" They rubbed their arms together. Their heads darted in different directions. They were in an island in between two 3 lane roads. Yellow taxicabs and Buses past by. Once in a while tricycle pedaled by a woman trailed after them. A cop on a horse stood in the corner. At the horse's end, memories of lunch piled on the pavement.

He took the shots. That was funny, he thought. He had taken 24 shots, and his camera could still be rewinded. Maybe this was one of those films with extra shots. What a luck, he could take more pictures.

All of them (him and they) continued to walk down the street. They past 34th street, they were one their way to 42nd street. Billboard lights glowed in red. Film of waves crashed. Lights chased each other, A picture within picture flashed one after the other.

He took pictures of the giant cup of noodles, which was steamless. He stopped by starbucks and ordered a Caramel Frap. The clerk asked his name. He said Mark. They walked and took more pictures. Now he got more suspicious.

He reached his 30th shot, and his camera was still rolling away. He tried rewinding it, but the film was not hooking itself. Maybe he did it wrong. If he opened it without rewinding it, he might expose the picture he'd taken from a previous trip down in southern Alabama. But if he couldn't find out, he'd missed out oppurtunities he could face today. He decided to live in the present.

He opened the camera. To his relief, the pictures weren't exposed. To his dismay, the pictures he thought he captured were gone. All the memories, the documentaion of a week full of moments, gone. What was he going to do?

The pictures that captured Birmingham no logner existed. Years from now, would he remembered that grueling week? Leaving at 5;45 am before sunrise to drive a 13 hour drive just to get there by 7pm. feeling the weather get warmer as he and his roomies got closer to the equator. As temperature rose, they took an article of clothing off, such as a scarf ora pair gloves. Grass became greener. Oldiies music turned to the music of the 70s, 80s, early 90s to western country finally to the buzz of a raido out of reach of civilization (time to pop in a cd).

Would he rememeber, the painterly abstraction of the winged Samothrace, the steel buns of god of the forge, Vulcan- whos spear point to the moon, or the morning star of Venus, singing "kareoke style" in the van while cruisng from the ghetto to the rich, to the middle class, to rural areas, or seeing from Vulcan park, the city below, surround by mountains that started as the small rolling hill of Tennesse, or the Baptist church at every corner like the Starbucks in New York city....

How about the people? Allison with her red baseball cap, with inscription under her hat. She said her friend wrote it believing that they were soulmates. She had a tatto on the back of her neck, chinese symbol, he gorgot to ask her. The kumbaya-like group singing christian songs, the dancing of the irish jig or the charleston, the vibrato of "off white" and the seven dwarfs...

The reflections, the ghetto house they stayed in with its brown tarp as walls, the cooking (homemade) especially the midnight breakfast, his group did on their last day their, 30 minute mall (arriving near closing time, rushing to find a magnet, something to hold on to....

The work? The foundation, assembly-line cider block carrier, applying thoroughseal for the foundations, with every stroke of the concrete-soaked brush got heavier, building a shed, a miniature version of the house minus plumbing, building the "tress", making sure they're all flushed and not 'caddywompus', nailing, hammering, measuring, putting the sidings....

The group pictures, he remembered taking two just in case, now it seemed futile.

"Mark, hurry up, let's go!" They continued walking, they were now in 40th street.

"Hold on, I'm putting new film." He would just make new memories, and hoped that he would remember Birmingham...

Posted by Michael Diezmos at 10:19 PM | Comments (0)