WurdSpurts

Eleven

bigbadrafa — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 00:12:48 +0000

Daniel was sitting under El Pino, a large pine tree that sits on top of a hill on Folsom, right where it crosses Indiana. Indiana is the street that divides city and county, so at some stretches of it, like here for example, it is nothing but a strip of undeveloped land. Like in neighborhoods all over the world, an undeveloped lot just becomes a short cut between point A an B. El Pino can be seen for at least two miles from the flat lands around it.

Daniel was killing time on a barrier that was built to keep cars out. He was looking down at the Evergreen Cemetery thinking of his frinedns and wondering when his turn would come. He was looking over El Mercado where he was about to meet someone in a few minutes to make an exchange.

He was clean shaved and showered, wearing a new pair of Dickie’s, Chuck’s and signature white T shirt. This is the soldier outfit of his day.

He was contemplating his next move. It would come from a little brown bag he had in his hands weighing about 16 ounces. He was going to sell it in a few minutes. He was just killing time with a Camel smoke.

——————————-

I came up Rowan and made a left on Folsom to kill time. I wasn’t ready to go back home and start explaining to my grandma that I had lost my job. It was too painful. I felt like i had a blow fish stuck in my throat. I saw Daniel and wondered if he would still say hi to me. After all, I had probably walked by him more that 100 times in my life on the block and never met eyes with him. I was surprised that he actually looked pleased to see me.

“What’s up carnal?,” he said. That word always sounded so cool to me. I don’t know where it came from but it’s slang for brother. I had heard other people say it all my life but had never been addressed that way myself. I have to admit I dug it.

“Hey Daniel,” he stayed silent, “what’s up?”

We shook hands the classic chicano handshake. Fingers under the other’s palm, fingers over the other’s thumb, then fingers clasp and you end with a fist pound. I later learned the meaning of that handshake. I learned it might predate the soldiers that fought with Pancho Villa, nicknamed “cholos.” It is a fraternal handshake that means, I am not above you my brother, I am not beneath you my brother, I am right here with you my brother.

We kind of stood there for a few seconds like two cars at a four way stop wondering whose turn it is to go next. I was about to say good bye when he spoke.

“Let’s go get some food,” he said looking at his watch.

Then he chucked his cigarette butt and handed me a brown bag.

“Hold this,” he said.

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Ten

bigbadrafa — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 09:54:39 +0000

Up the hill again with my disk in my hand, sweating and feeling a little betrayed. Fuck my job, I could care less about it but I never imagined Mari would act the way she did. I hate this hill.

The disk weighed in my sweaty palm. I dumped it in the first trash can I saw.

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Nine

bigbadrafa — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 23:53:01 +0000

“Hey boss,” I said in something between a mumble and a whisper.

“Sit down,” he said.

Fuck. How do I always end up on this side of the conversation. I’m never in the power position. Why do I even bother working hard for this guy. I always end up fucking something up and sitting in this chair.

He’s finishing up a letter he’s dictating into a tape recorder. Something about a motion to blah, blah, blah. It’s always the same here in this office. I hate this job. I thought I would be inspired by working here. I thought it would lead me to want more from the legal trade. I took night classes for a paralegal certificate to spark my interest. I did fall in love with the discussion of laws and the passion of debate. I’m just not good with follow up. Give me a week to work on a file and I will try to complete the work in the last 4 hours of the last day.

“Here,” he said and handed me an envelope, “you have potential but you will never develop it here.”

If it’s what I think it is, it’s my last check. I only worked half a week or less so it can’t be more than $200. The first thing that came to my head was the phone bill and how stupid I was for spending my last bit of cash on beer.

“I still want to work here boss, I hope it’s not my last check.”

“It is your last check. I don’t want you here no more. You’re smart but you’re lazy and you’re always late. You live six blocks away cabron y no puedes llegar a tiempo.”

He’s right there. I live just up the hill and I never get here on time. 15 to 30 minutes late every day. I hate mornings. I can’t even argue.

“Look,” he looks right at me, “you have a mind of a dreamer. I know you don’t even like this job. The only thing keeping you here is Maria, Mari, whatever you call her.”

Her name is Mariana and fuck him. He’s right.

I wondered if I had blank disks to remove some personal files from the computer.

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Eight

bigbadrafa — Tue, 25 Dec 2007 10:10:15 +0000

Mari, is my kind of girl. Subtle but not quiet. Beautiful but not advertising sex. She always tells me the truth, that’s something that I find rare in any human.

Black hair framed her soft face. Glasses made her eyes the focus. She had good taste in fashion that included the glasses she wore. Ofcourse, she knew how to stretch her dollar and look good.

One night after a movie as I read the credits rolling up the screen, she told me something that I’ll never forget.

“You make me feel safe, that’s the sign of a good man,” she whispered.

“You make me feel like there will never be another man,” I replied.

Now that I think of it, she made me feel safe. Losing a woman to a better man is my biggest fear and she made me feel safe.

I’m not the kinda guy a girl flips over.

She loves me.

But men are stupid when it comes to love. At least I am. I can’t put the same kind of attention to love and relationships that other people do. I’ve never had a girlfriend I love more than she loves me. I just like being with them, hanging out, kickin’ it, having sex, but my mouth can’t agree to make it forever.

“Can you hear me, stupid,” she said in a cold tone that helped me snap out of a daydream. “He’s pissed, don’t even turn on your computer.”

Fuck. I can’t afford to lose another job.

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Seven

bigbadrafa — Sun, 16 Dec 2007 09:41:45 +0000

The gate was rusty, I always have to kick it make it open and it scrapes the floor. I could hear gramma praying for me as I left the house again.

A shit, a shower and a good shave and I was on my way to save my job.

Walking down the street I wondered what Silent was up to. I realized I walk by his house every day to get to work but rarely see him. He’s probably fucking I though and I imagined what his girlfriend looked like naked.

I walked down Winter St., all the houses here were built in the 30’s and 40’s. Single unit homes that house multiple families and too many cars.

Then I went down Rowan passed the house where the only white man lives. He and his wife are at least 60 or older. The don’t seem to ever want to leave the little house they live in.

On the corner of Chavez and Rowan is an empty lot that used to be a gas station. Behind it is a small but busy law office.

I walk in and get a strange look from Lucia. She’s the boss’ sister and she doesn’t like me. She says nothing as I walk passed her.

I get to my desk, it’s piled high with files and letters. I was startled by a pretty face.

“Hey,” it’s Mari.

“Where the fuck you been?” she asks. “We’ve been trying to call you……”

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Six

bigbadrafa — Sun, 16 Dec 2007 09:39:09 +0000

They sat and had breakfast. Veronica cooked. She could really cook too. Most girls grow up around here never warming up their own tortillas. They make sandwiches or order pizza. Not Vero, She grew up on her own most of her life. Learned how to cook at a foster home she stayed at when she was in her early teens.

She was lucky when it came to the homes she ended up in. They always took good care of her and she always knew how to appreciate the families that took her in.

There were a lot of men at these homes so she learned very fast how her smile made men feel. She was lucky to have never been treated wrong by the men or women who she lived with. She smiled wide and genuinely. The only thing missing in her life was her natural parents. They died soon after she was born in San Diego. Never even had time to take a family picture or get their American ID’s. No one knew who they were or where from. Sure, that is a serious reason not to smile but time did heal her wounds and she accepted the hole in her heart a long time ago.

After breakfast, David left. Vero and Daniel were left alone.

They jumped in the shower.

Daniel went in the shower first. The hot water woke up his senses. The simple act of closing his eyes in the safety of his own shower was comforting. Steam entered his lungs and it had a cleansing sensation on his brain.

No matter how often you shower in jail, there’s always a film that develops on your body like soot. Like a mechanic, if you’re always around the dirty shit, it sticks to you. The hot water, the soap and the clean tile and towels took care of that.

Vero took care of the rest.

She entered the shower at just the right moment. She sensed it. As if she knew he had left all the jail crap run down the drain when he let out a primal sigh of relief. She came in and it was just Silent, the steam and her.

She lathered up and rubbed up against him from behind.

He sighed again.

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Five

bigbadrafa — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 02:16:30 +0000

Daniel came up slowly to his apartment window. He looked inside and saw Veronica making breakfast. Her long curly hair shadowed her every move like a ghost trail. She was a sexy without having to put any effort into it. Her sweat-shorts were cut off just below the ass line and they were begging to make room for her booty. She wore a skin tight t-shirt with no bra. She didn’t need a bra. She was all of 21 with a set of lips that radiated sex. She turned toward the window a little and her eyes almost made Silent cry. They were Boopesque and a fraction away from tear drops at any moment. Even when she smiled her eyes seemed sad.

Daniel stared for about a minute. He knew this was the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. They were destined to grow old together.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a toilet flushing.

What the fuck? He thought as he saw his brother come out of the restroom and sit down for breakfast.

That fucker, David. He loved his brother but he never trusted him with any of his ladies. He never had a reason to suspect him. He just didn’t trust him.

Without delaying any longer he opened the front door to his apartment and walked in.

“PAPIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!, “ she let out a scream followed by another, “you’re hooome!”

She ran over and hugged and kissed him enough to make anyone jealous.

David, came over and gave him a hug. “What the fuck carnal, you should of called. We could’ve pick you up. What time did you get out?,” he asked.

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Four

bigbadrafa — Sun, 02 Dec 2007 03:01:37 +0000

After a long walk and a good talk we were finally at my block. Daniel did most of the talking. Funny how they call him, Silent. But I imagine it from his low raspy voice.

I live on Winter St., between Alma and Hicks in a house that was built in the mid 30′s. It sits on top of a little hill. We have stairs that lead up to the front gate and then a walkay, then the house. This is a high part of East Los. Just one block out of Boyle Heghts on the west and two blocks out of City Terrace on the north.

My grandfather bought this house, left it to my grandmother when he died and I guess since my mother died, I get to keep it when my “Nana” dies.

That’s not something I look forward to. I live alone with my grandma and I woulnd’t have it any other way. I can see her looking out the window as I say, “peace out,” to Silent. We shake hands and pound fists.

“Aytewacho,” he says.

He walked down the street. His apartment is just down one hill and up the next. We both live on hill tops.

I walk halfway up my stairs and I can hear my grandma opening the door for me.

“Donde has estade, mijo,” she asks me where I’ve been.

After I explain what I’ve been through she explains that the phone is disconnected and she hasn’t been able to call anyone. Not that we have any family to call. She does have two friends she calls every day and talks to each one for at least one half hour. I can imagine how lonely she must have been not to be able to call anyone for the weekend.

…………………………………………………………………………

Daniel came up slowly to his apartment…..

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Three

bigbadrafa — Sat, 01 Dec 2007 07:47:04 +0000

We came over the bridge, passed White Memorial Hospital and stopped on the corner of Soto and Chavez. This corner is always busy. It has a history that goes back to when this part of town had a lot of Jewish and Italian merchants. The original Canter’s Deli was on this block.

A lot of these buildings are still owned by Jews but the shops and the shoppers are all Latino now. Some have even set up shop on the sidewalks.

Daniel pulls out a wallet and buys a couple of tamales and champurado from a little old lady with an Igloo on wheels.

I was so pleased to see him hand me one of those babies. I saw that he had plenty of money inside his wallet.

He was locked up for carrying a little too much cocaine on his person. The charges were dropped for that but he stayed for 3 months on warrants and old charges; violations and other crap. A lot of the guys in jail make it seem so routine when they talk about their time and charges.

What puzzled me was that he chose to walk home when he obviously had enough money to take a cab.

……………………………………………………………………..

The tamales hit the spot and the champurrado was warm and comforting.

We sat on a wall and watched people. Many were heading west on the 68,into downtown and beyond; to clean offices or homes. Others were coming home from the same, heading in the other direction. Both seemed tired. A lot of students at this corner too. Young girls with their hair pulled back tight. Wearing sweatshirts and jeans. A few with too much make up, those are the ones that remind you of the stereotypes. Boys clowning, always clowning with each other.

Heading south on Soto were the people taking the 251 to Vernon where factories abound. Women and men who will take a spot on an assembly line and repeat the same motion for 8 hours.

Behind all the people and all the bus stops are a few of the best murals in East LA. Images designed to remind us of our roots and instill pride. The ubiquitous Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ and Cesar Chavez intertwined with farmworkers, men singing and people dancing.

I learned that Daniel lives with his girlfriend, Veronica, in the apartments on Ditman. Those are small bungalow style apartments with one wide walkway down the middle. I had a friend that lived there when I was a kid. A bunch of us would camp out on the roof at least twice a year.

“She’s a good woman,” he said.

He couldn’t be too much older that me, maybe 25. How much could he really know about what a good woman is. But he seemed mature enough to know.

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Two

bigbadrafa — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 22:47:05 +0000

All they did was put me in another box with twenty other low lives. I sat for another two hours.

Eighty percent of the guys waiting to get out should never be here. The other twenty should never leave.

“Sanchez…342,” a female CO called.

“Right here,” I said. I walked out of the cell and into a line of inmates 4o deep. These fools just love to look at you to size you up. Fuck’em all. I hate cholos and I’m going home. In here, we all wear the same clothes. We all look the same. But we know who the real gangsters are. So, I’m sure they know I’m not one.

They took us to get our street clothes and belongings. Fuck. I have to walk out with these slippers.

A room filled with happy criminals getting ready to be released. Changing into the street clothes that some have not seen for months or years. My shit stinks.

I got locked up on Friday night slept on the floor, didn’t get processed ’til Saturday night. Went to court on Monday morning.

“Time served,” said Judge Ramirez without looking twice at my folder.

Now I’m here Tuesday, 7am, almost out the door. County sandals and smelly clothes.

“Sanchez…342,” said another CO.

They shoved ten of us into a small room where we barely fit and slammed the door behind us. Then with a loud clank another door opened and I saw the sun.

It was blinding at first, then cleansing, then it fed my soul the warmth I haven’t had since my mother was alive. She died in 89.

I think I levitated out of that room. The sun in my eyes and the warmth in my chest took me to a different place. I couldn’t even hear the others being greeted by family and friends. I simply stood there for about five minutes.

………………………………………………………………

At the end of the block was a line of twenty pay phones. Half of them being used by fellas who were released and are trying to get a ride home. Most of these guys can’t afford a cab. Neither can I.

I had a few quarters in my property and pulled them out to call home.

We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected. If you feel you have….

Click.

I knew it.

“Hey dog,..” a soft voice said. It startled me because it was too close to me but it wasn’t threatening.

“…Wussup? You trying to get a ride home?,” he asked.

“Naw..I was just checking my messages,” I said. I recognized this guy he lives on the next block from me.

“I live right there on Winter St.,” he said. He looked me in the eye and extended his hand, “Daniel, they call me Silent.”

His voice was smooth, but firm and serious. He had a little bit of raspiness in his voice. It made me feel like he was going to pull out a cigarette at any time.

I shook his hand and said, “Yeah, I recognize you. I’m Raul.” He’s stronger than me. “I’m actually gonna walk home.”

“Fuck it. Let’s walk homie,” he said.

As we walked over the bridge on Cesar Chavez heading to East Los. We started to get to know each other. I looked back at the jail and cursed it. I kept walking and as reality set in I realized I hadn’t called my job.

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