Random Tuesday, Jan. 29, 2008

If you haven't heard the song "Dancing with the devil" by Immortal techniques you should look it up. Fuck it, i'll give you the friggin' link.

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=308316023


It's the first song, listen to the lyrics, notice the beat, etc. That song has some dope stuff to offer. I think everyone should listen to it really. It's a reality check for "gangsters." -- maybe.
I can't get over the effects of the song, you should really check it.

On another note, I think I'm going to start collecting cd's. So far i got some ray Charles, Miles Davis, An Angle, Jane Liu, and a couple other. Hopefully I'm getting some Gypsies Kings, Specials, and Cold War Kids coming my way on the cd tip.

What else is there to talk about?
Oh yeah i started a new blog, it's pretty cool.
You should visit it, it's on my side bar under Quicky Style Tips.
I'm juast putting anything that relates to style on it, whether it be dancing, music or fashion.
Keep checking on it and give me your comments please.
I;'m actually going to go ahead and expand on what i think of the "dancing with the devil" song on there now.
Peace.

What it takes, what it makes.

Jenny and I were at this restauraunt called Chipotle last night, never going there again by the way, and it made me think of todays culture; or to be more accurate, todays preception on culture.
What makes mexican food mexican? You eat a burrito or carne asada fries and you say to yourself "hot diggity dog this is some damn good mexican food" but in actuallity it's tex-mex. So in search for my inquiry i though what mexican food is there? and what makes mexican food mexican food?
Theres mole, chilaquiles, Tacos, etc. Those are as close to "Mexican" as you can get.

Scenario:
You walk into a taco bell and order a taco then you eat it. Did you have mexican food?

Theres many people i know that wont consider taco bell "real" "mexican" food. SO what makes it mexican or not?
What if i say all the cooks in the back, including the one who made your taco, are straight from mexico city. Did you have mexican food?
How about if i say you had this taco bell taco in Mexico?
What about now?

This question makes me ponder on how diluted our culture has really become.
They say America is a melting pot of culture but just because you have a mexican a filipino and a a indian living on the same block doesn't mean you have all forms of culture on your block it just means his ancestors are from south america his ancestors are from the philipino islands and his ancestors are from india.

This also makes me feel a little empty inside because i know jack shit about any culture, including mexican culture. I can barely speak spanish, actually i don't even make any type of effort to really learn spanish. I'm actually taking japanese classes next semester. Am i helping to dilute and kill my culture?
What is my culture and what makes anyone knowledgable of my culture?

Fuck it, enough mexicans speak spanish.

I'm finding myself as a person,
but loosing my bboy.

I need to find my funk.

"When A Man Loves A Woman"

∞

Self Inflicting Passion.

You know,
when you have too much to say or do and you don't end up doing any of it at all and it's all due to the surrealness of what the situation has made you think of it -- of what it is. The dream like state where you forget eveything except what the time has brought to you, then you realize you did nothing at all and comes the confusion and frustration, Yeah, it's kinda like that.

Via cyber space.

They say that if you get two people who are a lot alike together it's silent.

For example, whenever JFK and MLK got together they say it was almost completely silent because they were a lot a like and they were both powerful leaders.

I experience that a lot with her, and i also experienced it today with her and Jane.

I was making pasta for all of us and it was silent a lot, but it was comfortable.
Though i felt like a bad host for not having nice conversation and att imes it did feel a little awkward, but i think that was just me.
It was nice.
Damn good pasta too.

To: help

I wrote a three page letter to you, but it's a bunch of bull shit. So I'm gunna try to write you a little something something right here and now. Typically i would write you something to go along w/your gift but I'm not really feeling it so i think I'm just gunna do this -- maybe it'll work.

So i wont lie and I'll tell you that i was madly disappointed that you and i couldn't hang out today. I totally understood why, but none the less i was disappointed. I got dressed up in my cardigan and a sports jacket, skinny jeans and good shoes 'cause i thought i was gunna see you. I spent about 5 minutes longer than i usually do just fixing my hair so it'll be perfect. I shaved perfectly. I put my visine to work. I picked up my car and didint eat 'cause i thought if i picked you up and you were hungry we could eat and if you weren't I'd just lie and say i was full -- doesn't really matter 'cause i don't really notice when I'm around you. Around eight or nine you said that we weren't able to hang out and it was a sad moment but i said ok and was fine w/it, it's cool. I had to admit i was in the parking lot of the library a big part of my day 'cause i didn't wanna go home and relax because i just wanted to see you and the faster i can turn on my car and leave the faster i could do that. So i was disappointed and went home. i layed down and found out my grandma was in jail for trying to steal a 4,000 coat from Nordstrom's -- peculiar. I wasn't really phased because i tend to be extremely calm in situations where most would panic or be confused. I decided to spend my monthly Number 3 tonight. I grabbed my book "sex, drugs, and cocoa puffs" a notebook with some blank pages left in it and two pens and left to Carl's jr. I sat across from the register and the food was out pretty quick, it was good. After that i put 2 sweet and lows in my coffee and started to write. in one and a half cups of coffee i wrote three pages about nothing. I titled it "to: help". it's a clever title i think, if you think about it. I had coffee because it reminds me of you, if you didn't know already.

I am a tall, pale skin guy with colored eyes. I am Mexican but hardly know anything about my culture. I'm pretty hairy and I'm not that smart. I'm mildly attractive and i like planning things out, not down to the second but at least to the day. If i know that i have a high chance of being w/you i clear most of my day so whenever you have time i know i wont be doing anything. I'm not going to be rich when i grow up on purpose, I'll be lucky if i get more than 60,000 a year anyway. I like to ponder about nothing, because nothing can lead to an infinite amount of thoughts that are something, even nothing again. I've never seen Anderson Cooper 360. I don't find the typical "hot girl any type of attractive. I don't like it when when women degrade themselves so they can "look good". I like American Apparel, Levi's 511's and 501's, Puma's, Pro-Keds, and things of that nature. I have a weird style that I've only recently been confident enough to express (thanks to you). I am happy and optimistic person, and i like to think that i am compassionate as well.I feel fantastic as long as I'm with you, whether it be at swami's or watching your eye lashes grow. You, 99% of the time, inspire my thoughts even if they aren't of you. I'm not much, but I'm working to change that. The one thing that i am though, is your. Your lover, friend, partner, boyfriend, mate, chap, gentleman, caballero, whatever you wanna say, however you wanna say it.

Jenny June you are phenomenally beautiful. All i can do is give you that one universal cliche everyday, over and over again, and hope that one day i can figure out a way to say it all -- I love you.

Alexandro J. Calderon


p.s. this is a very incomplete letter, and just to let you know: I'm not mad at you or anything, i just go from random incomplete thought to the next random incomplete thought.

It's called: it

It is the thing of all things that can be known as everything and nothing that has that something or known to be with that one thing or not. It’s that thing. It’s been compared to many things, so many things that it is almost cliché and passé; it’s quite sad. This something is so much something that it cannot be nothing because it is that something that moves. Though I’m sure that it can be nothing but really I’m sure it’s something. I know you know what it is. It’s been compared to many things. The only thing it can really be justly compare to is the sky but we don’t truly realize the sky or its actual magnitude because we can see it with our eyes and have had this standard for the sky; blue, white, Grey, black. Truly though, it can only be compared to the sky and have some justice. Anything else would be a terror; an atrocity. It’s been given a name, I’m sure you know what it is. Though it doesn’t do it any justice I’m sure. It’s called .

Happy Dad

Today is a happy, very happy, day for Francisco Garcia. His daughter, Martha Calderon, is officially engaged to a Mexican Gentleman by the name of Richard. He is short and slim, dark and funky hair, he has a good sense of humor and a good sense of family. he is a good man. He has been married before, like Francisco's daughter, and divorced -- obviously. Martha's only daughter is happy, but jealous because her boyfriend of three years has yet to propose. Martha's son is very happy for his mother. She has finally found a gentleman that treats her well and treats the family with the same care. That's all the truly matter, does it not? It doesn't matter whether he is attractive or rich, but he is a good person with ambition and connection with his mother, Martha.
His family is growing. Our family is growing.





Congratulations mom, i love you.