Friday, June 11, 2010

ahahaha
freshmen friday.

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Monday, May 31, 2010

happy birthday to me.
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Monday, May 24, 2010

WOCKA FLOCKA FLAME.
...i dont even know. :|
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Tuesday, May 11, 2010

in all my efforts, ive committed treason.
im nobody so far,
but i dont mess with cigarettes and alcohol.
im the best there is, and they tell me,
all the winners smoke cigars.
~
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Saturday, April 17, 2010

period.


end of discussion.
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Wednesday, April 7, 2010

you'll regret it when you're older.
you'll look back and think, "what was i thinking?"
but today, its worth it. theres no chance from here to the moon, but what else do you have going for you?

maybe tomorrow you'll be older.
you'll wake up and laugh for fifteen minutes, turn to who replaced them and say-
"baby, what was i thinking?"
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Tuesday, March 30, 2010

:) im so excited.
Sean Malloy. James Grant.
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Friday, March 5, 2010

i dont think i need this anymore.
the blog?
because before it was a place for me to rant about my life so someone would hear it.
and then it turned into me trying to be artistic and deep,
and now its just bullshit. not the site. but my site.
im gonna keep it so i can keep up on your blogs,
but theres really nothing to say.
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Tuesday, February 23, 2010

I am puerto rican, and this is my pride.
I was born Miguelito Santos-Gonzalez because my mama thought it would take me places. To be completely honest I don’t think it’s taken me anywhere, considering I haven’t seen farther than the south side of the city, but if I were to tell her that she would start crying about her home country, and how we have it much better here.

I don’t tell her that technically, Puerto Rico isn’t a country. That’d just make her angry.

Regardless, kids like me- kids who grew up in the really bad parts of New Jersey know that we’ll never make it out of here. We’ll grow up, drop out of high school our junior year, or just never end up going to college, and become mechanics like our fathers or uncles. Or get pregnant and have a baby with a guy who drinks all day. We know this. We accept this. It’s just the way of our neighborhood.

When Alejandro, my older brother, came home with a tattoo that said, the people of Union City are red, white, and blue, my mama couldn’t be mad, because it was our culture. When he showed it to me I laughed.

“The people of Union City are colorless, Alejandro, and you know it.”

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Sunday, February 14, 2010

I am Colours.
The sidewalks are cracked. Like tiny spider webs, they spread against the concrete like fingers, reaching toward the buildings and the street, alike. The air is a sickening mix of exhaust fumes and chili peppers, where if you haven’t been there for a long, your eyes will water. Hispanic flags hang from windows, Puerto Rican on these two streets and Dominican two streets over, the Brazilian flags with their anonymous Portuguese in between to keep the chaos from erupting.
Lawns are like patch-work: brown and yellow with a random splotch of green that survived the lack of watering. Every other garage is a grease monkey. Four or five cars, missing engines, or brakes, or radios, sit, like silent veterans- no longer useful.
There’s always music, or laughter, or both. TV’s echo through open windows, domestic disputes made public on front lawns. It’s always loud here, and always bright. Streetlights shine domes of yellow on parked cars, and light the sky up to a navy blue, never black.
It’s blistering hot, to the point where the sidewalk burns underneath feet. Air conditioners crank in some houses, windows and doors sealed shut. In others, windows and doors stand wide open, catching any breeze they can. The occasional opened hydrant sends violent sprays across the street, leaving pools of water for cars to drive through, and kids to run through.
This neighborhood has pride, it’s tangible. You can reach out, and grab it- right from the threads of the flags; right from the blades of the grass.

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