Here, it is revealed that the idyllic landscapes of poets and painters is a sham.
In it's place, we are left with the empty facsimile presented by real estate developers and organic fruit companies selling a carefully crafted memory where the trees are oh so green and the sun rises into brilliant blue sky.
Somewhere in the distance a bird spreads it's wings in flight.
A dog lazily rests in the shade.
And smiling children play games while their hard-working parents sip on fresh-squeezed lemonade.

This is a place where disbelief has been willfully suspended.
This is a place where the smiles are real, but no one is quite sure why. 

Teacher

One of the most interesting things about being a teacher is that I am, by proxy, an actor. I don't get paid millions of dollars, but then again I am also not required to be as handsome as those movie star types. I also don't have the pressures to keep up the good looks that I do not possess. Nonetheless, I am an actor everytime I walk on campus. From the moment my left foot plops down on that weather beaten asphalt I put on my game face. I try to speak only when appropriate, and I sure try to say the correct thing. I nod in agreement when I want to call someone a dumbfuck. I might say, "That is surely an interesting perspective on the matter," whe I really want to say, "Go read a goddamned book for once, and after you have seriously thought about the bullshit you just sad, then come back (in ten years maybe) and then let's have a more realistic conversation on the matter." But I don't say those things. I smile. And I nod.  And I allow so many people to utter such nonsense while I look on, eyes half glazed over looking for some alternate universe where those half-thought out words might be adequate. 

Your distance is a fire 

There is no need to destroy the angels nor the demons of our world, for they do not exist anywhere except in our minds; however, even that existence is dangerous enough to infect our world like a virus. The difficulty, then, does not come the destruction of that which is non-existent; the difficulty comes in trying to show people that which is actually in front of them. 

Funding truth

I am not interested in church or religions, I am interested in truth. Those who proclaim religious feilty, but do not strictly adhere to their doctrins are participating in nothing more than philosophy supported by their imagination friends. I, on the other hand, see beauty in philosophy where beauty deserves it's due, and I call nonsense on that which is utter nonsense. Religious dogmatists won't do that, and the religious masses simply don't have that ability. 

Unfortunately, there are so many in this world who wish to be blind to the workings of the world that they immerse themselves in nothingness while being told that they are everything. 

Life was easier when I could just get drunk on Sunday and didn't have to worry about who I might piss off. 

Insomnia

I have no idea why I have the sensation of dropping of into the oblivion of sleep at 10:30, then snap awake only to lie awake until I finally decide to get out of bed at 1:30 a.m. to distract myself. It isn't like I really have that much to think about, but for some reason my brain just won't shut off. The Advil PM stopped working weeks ago, the Nyquil hasn't been of any use for days, and and a handful of melatonin doesn't do the trick. I have that bottle of Ambien in the medicine chest, but I stopped using it after I couldn't remember words like cat and pen. The doctor told me it can do that, so since I am an English teacher, I figured it might be best to leave that stuff alone.
So here I sit, in this comfortable brown leather recliner, legs propped up with my laptop sitting on my lap, where it belongs, typing out the words that won't let me sleep.It has been this way for some time now. Decades. I don't know what it is, but the words, any words strung together into random thoughts just run incessantly through my brain. Naturally, everyone has a magic remedy for this affliction, but none of them work. Just relax, some will tell me. Concentrate on each part of your body as it relaxes and allows you to drift off. The problem is that I cannot hold that thought long enough to even let my toes relax. It is sad really. Others suggest teas and herbs. Some believe I should practice meditation. All well meaning. All made with the purest of intentions. None of them work.
Even though I would love to simply let myself go, my chapped lips, the work that needs to be completed, and the grand plans I have for tomorrow will not allow me to sleep. My eyes burn and my heart pounds. The night time sounds of a running refrigerator, a whirring cable box, a distant siren, and blades of overhead aircraft all keep me going in the dark of morning when partiers empty the bars and head home drunk and oblivious. I remember those days when I would pass-out and later wake up with a pounding headache and churning stomach. Thankfully, those days are mostly gone.
While walking past the kitchen window, I might see a raccoon or possum walking along the deck railing, exploring the the world we have created that backs up, so unforgivably, to their canyon home. At night, it is dark and noisy down there with all of those creatures scurrying through the brush, trying to avoid some predator. An owl swoops here, a coyote stalks there, and those damned rattlesnakes are everywhere waiting to sink their fangs into a meal. I particularly hate the snakes. I chop off their heads whenever they come to close. I know they eat the rats and mice, which I appreciate, but they also bit people like my children, or my dogs or cats.    

So I have a problem with insomnia. Yes this is a real problem; for example, it is almost 2:00 am and I haven't slept tonight. Also, I need to get up at six in the morning for work. You see, problem. Unfortunately, sleeping pills and faux meditation don't help me fall asleep, so maybe writing will.If nothing else, maybe I will write something interesting, but beware that it will all be made up of lies. After all, I am a delusional insomniac with nothing but words running through my head, down my arms, and into the keyboard. The difficult part is to type quiet enough so that I don't wake anyone up, and still type fast enough to hold a line of thought. I say it is impossible, but hey, that's what revision is for, right? Right on, right on.
Hurry, let's get on with it. Onward with the lies.
Now, if I could only get people to believe it all, then I could start an entirely new religion.

Mestizo Sol

The native son

a New World paradigm

mestizo sol 

raising souls through cracked concrete