No Birds in Cages

Infinite abudance of love.
There is always enough,
and yet there never will.

A boomerang of happiness,
only your beloved's joy
will bring you ease.

Open, clear, peaceful truth.
No bitterness from jealousy.
No guilt from lies.

Deep acceptance and respect.
We honor each other's feelings.
We love ourselves for who we are.

Compromise and commitment,
we don't run away, we face.
FREEDOM DOESN'T MEAN NO ATTACHMENTS,
IT JUST MEANS NO CHAINS.

TheVirginia Tech Shootings

Goodness. What the hell is wrong with people, in this country, with Western society, with this world? What is UP with the violence?

I got to work this morning and was greeted by my boss saying "Did you hear about the shootings at Virginia Tech? It's on T.V. There's 22 dead."

You know what came to my mind first? Students protesting the war or something, and getting violent, you know breaking stuff, throwing rocks around. Then the police showing up and confronting them with tear gas and cubs. Then, the logically consecutive man to man fight and agression between students and police, which would, very probably, end up in a dead students.

So I asked: "What? How? Why?" My boss had no answer.

So the second thing that popped in my head was students fighting, you know how that kind of conflict can escalate, and you never know who has a gun and is willing to use it. Maybe gangs.

So I tried to be more elocuent: "What do you mean a shooting? The police or students against students?" "I have no idea."

It wasn't until then that the memory of that documentary about the Columbine High School massacre came to my head. One student armed with a gun killing other students and then killing himself, a pattern that now seems repetitive in this country, and, it seems, no where else, did not come to my mind until the third try!

I think that says a lot about me, and therefore about my background, my culture, my country, all of us ... and about this culture, this country, and all of us here.

Really. I seem to have been in Panama mind set. If someone said in Panama there were 22 students dead at la Universidad, who wouldn't think of el Fer 29 "tirando piedras" protesting something and it getting totally out of the hands of a repressive police force (read antimotines)? So, what does that say about our country? Or about Latinoamerica, for that matter, because I think the scene applies to all of the other Latin countries too? Hell, it even applies to China.

But, then again, given that the scenario is Virgina, U.S.A., and not anywhere else, the first thing that should have come to my mind should have been Columbine, ergo the student shoots others and then kills himself situation. And, what does that say about our country? Yeah, I have, recently, started to talk about the U.S. in the first person. I have lived here for five years now. I finished growing up here. I feel certain social responsibility for what goes on inside these borders, and for what goes on outside these borders because of us. And I am not sitting around about it, by the way. I have become as much of a political/social activist as I have been able to, mind you. But that is besides the point. When will we, this country, figure out that guns are too freaking accessible even if the president supports the interpretation of the Second Amendment to the Constitution, which protects "the right of the people to keep and bear arms," as an individual's right, and not as the right of "el pueblo" to rise to arms to defend itself against the tyranny of an unjust government, or an exteranl invasion. Gun politics in the U.S. are ridiculously bureocratic and are not getting us anywhere despite of the huge rate of gun violence, and possibly because of gun culture, which is so ingrained in American society. When will we realize that the violence inside our borders is not only spilling out to the rest of the world, but running rampant inside?

I am not sure why this Columbine type of thing doesn't happen in Latin America. We are embedded in the same violent media that dehumanizes our children before they can tell right from wrong. Then, what's the differnce? What is the rest of the world doing right, or the U.S. doing so wrong that these kind of thing is becoming so common? Oh, please, if you have any theories - share them! Something's gotta be done in here. Soon.

Nostalgia Egoista

Tus recuerdos me asaltan

en el momento más inesperado

del día o de la noche.

Son recuerdos

como nubes dispersas,

como manchas de tinta,

como algodón de azúcar,

como plumas volando,

como un amor incierto,

como una poesía inédita,

como un grito ahogado,

como un beso reprimido

o como una melodía

que nadie se atreve a cantar.

Son la sensación pasada

de tus besos apasionados,

de tus caricias cuidadosas,

de tus palabras enamoradas

que me hacían temblar y reír,

soñar y escribir…

Porque mis pasiones imprudentes

nuca tuvieron control

entre tus brazos,

y mi subconsciente egoísta

pensó qu estarías

siempre ahí para mí.

Written in 2000

Celos

Quiero saber qué ha cambiado detrás de tus ojos,

pero tú ya no eres capaz de sostener mi mirada,

de cualquier forma sé que sólo vería

el rostro de ella reflejado en tus ojos,

igual que exala alegría tu sonrisa

cuando ella se digna a mirarte.

Sé que la quieres como jamás me querrás,

como jamás te querré…

sé que la besas como jamás me besaste,

porque yo conozco tus besos, pero no tu amor.

Te atreviste a desearme sin amarme

y alguna vez me dolió,

pero tu temor a desearme, amándola

lastima mi orgullo y me parte el corazón.

Tu anhelo de sus ojos, verdes,

no me quita el aliento,

ni la vida ni el calor,

pero alimenta mis celos, mi orgullo

y mis deseos de posesión.

El ansia de mis besos, cálidos,

no te quita la calma,

ni la cordura, ni la razón,

pero alimenta tu miedo

de nunca alcanzar su amor.

Brillando en tus ojos el reflejo dorado de su cabello,

te imagino corriendo tras sus huellas…

yo no daré ni un paso por llegar a ti.

Así te estrelles contra el muro de su indiferencia

o te hundas en las aguas tibias de su amor…

yo no daré ni un paso por llegar a ti.

¡Grítale a los vientos que la amas!

pero no dejes que ellos soplen martirios en mi corazón

como soplan en las caracolas canciones de amor.

¡Grítale a los vientos que la amas!

pero no permitas que me susurren al oído

pesadillas de tus sueños de hacerle el amor

¡Grítale a los vientos que la amas!

pero prívame por siempre de sentir el fresco viento de verano

soplar en mi rostro anhelos de libertad

¡Grítale a los vientos que la amas!

pero el viento no me arrastrará más a la deriva

como a una hoja seca,

pero el viento no formará más en mi olas

como lo hace sobre el mar.

Con cada respiro, con cada latido,

con cada tic-tac del reloj

me siento apartada,

me siento de más.

Proyecta tu amor por ella

en la luz de la luna,

grábalo en el sonido del mar

¡Grítenle a los cuatro vientos

que se aman,

y déjenme en paz!

Written in 1999

Olor a ti

Esta noche huelo
a tu recuerdo
impregnado en mi piel.

Huelo
a pasión de besos reprimidos,
a marea, a viento y a sal,
a naranja luna llena.

Esta noche huelo
a necesidad de abrazos
a sueños y a desvelo,
al perfume de tu sonrisa
que colándose en mi mirada
se filtró en mi alma.

Esta noche huelo a ti.

Written February 2001
Edited March 2006
Pictures by Eric @
Parque Omar, Summit, and El Prado,
Panama 2001.

Link to We are the Other People by Oberon Zell Ravenheart

En honor al hecho de que hoy tocaron a mi puerta a las 9:30 de la man'ana dos testigos de jehova encamisados y con sus respectivos maletines to try to shove their guilt and need for redemption down my throath ... y, obviamente, me despertaron de un placido suen'o ... en el que me estaba besando con, ni mas ni menos, que John Stamos .... he decidido hoy compartir el link to:
"We are the other people"
If you have never read this astounding, now classical pagan writing piece, do yourself a favor and give it a shot... maybe next time somebody tries to "evangelize" you, you'll have a come back.

Tackling the cliche question: What would you do if you were dying soon?

If I was told that I have a limited time to live, I would live more fully the present. I would forget about all my long term plans. I would not finish college. I would not even think about graduate school, or marriage, or having children. I would not save to buy a better car. I would spend more time with my friends and family. I would go back home. I would spend my time reading, writing, and contemplating nature – the ocean, the forests, and the mountains. I would eat more of my grandmother’s delicious dishes. I would keep on dancing, if I was healthy enough to do it. I would dance and write about living and dying.

I constantly try to live my life intensely, to appreciate each and every moment. Nevertheless, it is a very different thing to try to be grateful and glad for everything you experience, as if it was your last chance, than to know it for sure. It makes you wonder why we push ourselves through so many unpleasant moments for the sake of the future, if the truth is that we could die any moment for the simple reason that we are alive.

Written July 2006

With the certainty of death would surely also come the need for transcendence. I would probably turn unto writing more than ever before in my life. I would probably feel that my words would outlive me. I would thrive in the hope that, although I might be gone, anybody could pick up my writings and still listen to my voice, still share my thoughts, still get to know me. I once read a quote, whose author I have forgotten, that went something like this: “Sharing what we know is as close as we can get to immortality.”

If I had the money to travel, I would certainly try to go to as many places, off that list we all keep of places we would like to visit one day, as possible. I would visit Morocco and the pyramids in Egypt. I would dance in India and in Cuba. I would soak in and absorb Spain, France, Italy, Greece, and Turkey. I would marvel at Hawaii and Madagascar. If I had the health to do it, I would finally set onto those backpacking trips through Europe and South America I have been postponing since I graduated from high school.

It is difficult to think about what one would do in such a situation without actually feeling the need for doing all those things we are not doing, without feeling like we are wasting our time. Even as I try to imagine what I would do, I am avoiding being fully aware of the fact that, in fact, I could die tomorrow, and so could any of the people I love. Maybe we have to prepare for the long term, with all the sacrifices doing so entails, because it is the only way of pretending that our lives are not as fragile as they truly are.

Make Love not War this Season - a plea for peace

I shall not talk in this essay about any specific political circumstances. I will not argue about the rightness or wrongness of any particular war or battle. I will, instead, state my utmost reject for violence, for the slaughter of human beings by other human beings, for wars anywhere and under any circumstances. For as Erasmus said in the dawn of civilization: “War is delightful only to those who have not experienced it.”

People may think that there are moral justifications for the war on Iraq, for what happened in Vietnam, for World War II. But I believe there is simply no justification for war. Independences have been declared and accepted peacefully before. And non-violent battles, such as that of India against Britain, have also been successful. War is no way of showing who is right and who is wrong, only who is left. For nobody can convince anybody that those who win the wars are always the “good guys.” There are those who believe war is a fair punishment for those who somehow “deserve it”, or a good stratagem for revenge. I, on the other hand, agree with Thomas Jefferson: “war is as much a punishment to the punisher as it is to the sufferer” – ask the mothers of the soldiers who died in Afghanistan.

Unbelievably, at least to me, there is people who think war is, sometimes, the only way to peace. But, as A.J Muste stated, “there is no way to peace, peace is the way.” Even Albert Einstein assured us of an undeniable truth: “You cannot simultaneously prepare for and prevent war.” A poster I once saw sated: “Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity.” It cracked me up, but I also nodded in wholehearted agreement. War is no solution, it only brings on more trauma – hate only provokes a vicious cycle of hate. Nobody ever put it as straight forward as Mahatma Gandhi: “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

Where do our personal, religious, and moral values stand? Don’t at least most followers of the three big monotheist religions believe in “Thou shall not kill”? “Can anything be stupider than that a man has the right to kill me because he lives on the other side of a river and his ruler has a quarrel with mine, though I have not quarreled with him?”, said Blaise Pascal. Risking being morbidly radical, I will quote Abbie Hoffman: “I believe in compulsory cannibalism. If people were forced to eat what they killed there would be no more war.”

The atrocities of war, especially in this nuclear era, should not even be a possibility in this time of “civilized” peoples and conscious evolution. Ever heard that slogan: War is Terrorism with a bigger budget? If you ever saw your city burst in flames under the bombing aircrafts, if you ever saw images of the Holocaust or from Hiroshima, you must agree. Plus, aren’t there so many better things we could be investing our resources in instead of waging war on each other? (How about the one that went: Buy books not bombs?) Wouldn’t it be better to try to find a cure for AIDS, or a solution for hunger and starvation? Dwight Eisenhower said it loud and clear: "Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies in a final sense a theft from those who hunger and are not fed—those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending its money alone—it is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children."

Written in July 2006

The fucking endless politiqueria about the war in Iraq

Yesterday peace won another victory. The resolution against the escalation in Iraq was passed by the House! Today we wait to see if the Senate will take a stand on it too.

Nevertheless, I saw the transcripts and read what what my representative said. He was completely for the war. So I sent him a letter. Here's for your amusement:

I agree that we should ask ourselves what this means to us personally, our families and our neighbors, what this means to the future generations. The only way to establish a secure and lasting peace is through peace, not war. What this war is causing is precisely a much more insecure future for the next generations, it is only destabilizing Iraq more and throwing them further into a civil war, it is only creating future jihadists in the children who now resent the U.S. because of the war, and the invasion, and the friends and family who are now dead.

You must keep in mind that the 9/11 attack, and all other similar attacks around the world (madrid and london, for example) were not perpetrated by any of the nations you mentioned in your speech. They were perpretated by terrorists who hold an irrational hate for our country in their hearts. Those are the people we are emboldening through war. Islamic jihadists are currently emboldened in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and the greater Middle East because of the many deaths this war causes daily. How much more hate will be brought upon us by deploying more troops to another foreign sovereign nation! We are bringing upon us further attacks, we are building "a hellish nightmare" with our intrusions, we are teasing the fire of their hate, we are condemning ourselves to untold numbers of "horrors never imagined by the most creative writers of horror fiction", by waging war in Iraq.

Precisely because I am concerned about the next generation, I ask you to please consider the possibility that this war will not bring us peace in the future, but only fuel the hate of the terrorists who attack us. Waging endless war against certain countries, only because a war against terrorism is an impossibility as it is not a nation, and has no territory, and no citizens, will not solve the problem. We must dig down deep into the roots of the issue, AND STOP GIVING THEM REASONS TO HATE US!

Before and after La Ruta Quetzal

I was a confident girl during my early teenage years, but after participating in La Ruta Quetzal, I felt like wonder woman. I lived in a tent for two months, camping through Central America and Spain with another couple hundred teenagers. We faced challenges and climbed mountains. We passed tests, kayaked down roaring rivers, and flew across the jungle’s canopy. We were left without lunch or dinner for punishment. We enjoyed fruit for rewards. We washed ourselves and our clothes in oceans and rivers. We suffered endless nights in wet sleeping bags at bellow freezing temperatures on top of mountains; and during the days, we collapsed of dehydration hiking for hours down endless trails. In a very Survivor style, cameras followed us: the ones that gave up and left crying, and the ones that held on.

When you reach the top of a mountain, after many hours of climbing and hiking, and see both views (the one you left behind and the other side), you earn your right to touch the clouds. You feel that if a mountain cannot stop you, nothing can. Before La Ruta, I used to give up before trying many things, especially those that were physically challenging. After La Ruta, I thought back to those days and said: “If I could do that, why couldn’t I do this.”

When you share treasures like a piece of bread when you have not eaten in a day (a day full of physical activities, that is,) or a chocolate bar when all you have been eating is rice and beans for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a week, you understand the true meaning of communality. Before La Ruta, I thought I had shared a lot with my friends. But in La Ruta, I made friends to whom I will never be able to repay the favors, the hugs during chilly nights, the support when you feel like the altitude will not longer let you breath, the voices that accompanied you with songs that somehow made it possible for us to keep on walking.

When you know how much a scorpion bite hurts, when you know how fast your heart can really pound, when you know how many days you can go without bathing, you understand how trivial and unnecessary TV is. On the other hand, when you have to eat mud and bugs with your food in the dark, and constantly use latrines or take long walks away from the camp site to take a shit and then bury it, you appreciate the toilets and the refrigerators.

I was about to give up many times throughout those weeks. I did not comprehend how much I would have regretted giving up, until the months went by and I was able to look back at the experience and feel so proud of all I learned and everything i experienced during those weeks. More than changing my life, La Ruta changed the way I look at life, at challenges, at the opportunities we run into, at the blessings we often take for granted.

Legalize It! (seriously)

The current legal approach to marijuana, that is criminalization and prohibition, has proven ineffective in making it unavailable, or reducing its consumption. In fact, the overall rate of marijuana use in the U.S. has risen by roughly 4,000% since marijuana was first outlawed in 1937.* On the other hand, the illegal marijuana market has brought about many other problems. I do not support full legalization, but rather a legal regulation of its production and distribution, and a definite decriminalization of its consumption. “Decriminalization” involves the removal of criminal penalties for possession of marijuana for personal use. Marijuana is presently decriminalized in 11 states: California, Colorado, Maine, Minnesota, Mississippi, Nebraska, Nevada, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, and Oregon. That doesn’t mean it’s legal: small fines (somewhat similarly to speeding tickets) are issued, but there is no arrest, incarceration, or criminal record. I call that a step forward! Just to start with, decriminalization saves a tremendous amount in enforcement costs. It is estimated that California saves $100 million per year since marijuana was decriminalized. (Aldrich, Michael, Ph.D., and Mikuriya, Tod, M.D., “Savings in California Marijuana Law Enforcement Costs Attributable to the Moscone Act of 1976 — A Summary,” Journal of Psychoactive Drugs, 0(1), Jan.–March 1988; pp. 75-81.)

Truth Be Told

A report from the Institute of Science’s Division of Neuroscience and Behavioral Health, titled Marijuana and Medicine: Assessing the Science Base, helps clear up many of the common misbelieves regarding the use of marijuana. The first of them is the belief that it causes a dangerous addiction. Here’s a table straight from the document:

Drug Category: Proportion of users that ever became addicted
Tobacco/Nicotine: 32%
Alcohol: 15%
Marijuana (including hashish): 9%
Cocaine: 17%
Heroine: 23%

"In summary, although few marijuana users develop dependence, some do. But they appear to be less likely to do so than users of other drugs (including alcohol and nicotine), and marijuana dependence appears to be less severe than dependence on other drugs." [p. 98]

Another common belief is that smoking marihuana can cause cancer or other health problems, such as “amotivational syndrome” (lazyness or slowness in plain English.) Here is what the report states:
"There is no conclusive evidence that marijuana causes cancer in humans, including cancers usually related to tobacco use."[p. 119]
"Epidemiological data indicate that in the general population marijuana use is not associated with increased mortality." [p. 109]
"Earlier studies purporting to show structural changes in the brains of heavy marijuana users have not been replicated with more sophisticated techniques." [p. 106]

Now, take a look a this table and explain to me why is alcohol legal and not marijuana?

The Gateway Theory

Probably the most common misbelieve regarding marihuana is that it leads consumers to use other drugs. Who hasn’t ever heard their parents state truly concerned: You start with marijuana, and in a blink of the eye you will be involved with much harder drugs!

The truth is, in the Netherlands, where adults have been allowed to possess and purchase small amounts of marijuana since 1976, the use of marijuana, cocaine and amphetamines is far lower than in the U.S.* An article titled Two New Studies Show Marijuana Is Not a 'Gateway' to Harder Drugs published in the Chicago Sun-Times on December 24, 2006, explained the results of a study funded by the National Institute on Drug Abuse in which researchers from the University of Pittsburgh tracked the drug use patterns of 224 boys, starting at age 10 to 12 and ending at age 22. Some of the boys followed the traditional gateway paradigm, starting with tobacco or alcohol and moving on to marijuana, but some reversed the pattern, starting with marijuana first. And some never progressed from one substance to another at all. When they looked at the detailed data on these kids, the researchers found that the gateway theory simply didn't hold; environmental factors such as neighborhood characteristics played a much larger role on which drug the boys happened to use first. Researchers in Brisbane, Australia, and St. Louis reached much the same conclusion in a larger and more complex study. The research involved more than 4,000 Australian twins whose use of marijuana and other drugs was followed in detail from adolescence into adulthood, allowing for both social, genetic predisposition, and gateway theories to be put to the test. The data did not show that marijuana causes use of other drugs, although it indicated that the same factors that make people likely to try marijuana also make them likely to try other substances. The researchers added that any gateway effect that does exist is "more likely to be social than pharmacological," occurring because marijuana "introduces users to an unlawful provider who eventually becomes the source for other illicit drugs.” “In other words”, Bruce Mirken, the author of the article, concludes, “the gateway isn't marijuana; it's laws that put marijuana into the same criminal underground with speed and heroin.”

Teenage Usage

Research data shows that it is a myth that making marijuana illegal for adults will keep teenagers from using it. On the contrary, regulation would reduce teen access to marijuana by taking it off the streets and putting it in the hands of licensed businesses, which would lose their licenses if they sold to kids. The reality is that 85% of U.S. high school seniors qualify marihuana as “easy to get.” (Monitoring the Future, Institute for Social Research, University of Michigan, 2005.) Anybody who’s been a minor in the U.S. knows that cigarettes and alcohol are very difficult to obtain for teenagers, because everyone, from gas stations to bars, will ask you for an I.D. if you look the slightest bit underage. But clandestine sellers of marihuana don’t card their costumers! According to the White House, more than half of U.S. teens try marijuana before graduating from high school. In the Netherlands, where marijuana is sold in indoor establishments to adults who are carded for age, only 28% of teenagers have ever tried it.* Furthermore, in the Netherlands, only 9% of secondary school students actually use marijuana; while in the U.S., recent government estimates have ranged as high as 22% U.S. (Trimbos Institute, National Drug Monitor, Annual Report NDM 2004, p. 13.) (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, “Youth Risk Behavior Surveillance — United States, 2003,” Table 28, May 21, 2004.)

Another issue that often concerns parents is that legally regulating marijuana would cause a surge in violence. Nevertheless, the fact is marijuana use does not stimulate violent or aggressive behavior (Peter N.S. Hoaken and Sherry H. Stewart, “Drugs of abuse and the elicitation of human aggressive behavior,” Addictive Behaviors, vol. 28, p. 1533-54, 2003.) But the prohibition of marijuana increases violence by giving criminals and gangs a monopoly on marijuana sales. The liquor trade, for example, was filled with black market violence and irregularities during Prohibition, but that violence ended as soon as alcohol was legalized.

Do It for the Economy

A report released recently by Jon Gettman, a marijuana public policy analyst, contends that the market value of pot produced in the U.S. exceeds $35 billion — far more than the crop value of such heartland staples as corn, soybeans and hay, which are the top three legal cash crops.* Additionally, if the marijuana trade was legalized, billions of dollars that now enrich criminals would instead go to legitimate businesses, and marijuana itself would be taxed. Each year, the government spends $7.7 billion to arrest and lock up nonviolent marijuana users. Taxing marijuana would produce combined savings and tax revenues of between $10 billion and $14 billion per year, instead of generating profits for drug dealers. (Miron, Jeffrey A., The Budgetary Implications of Marijuana Prohibition, December 2004.)

It’s a Waste

Police officers now make more than 771,000 marijuana arrests per year, almost 90% of which are for possession, not production or distribution. In fact, there are more arrests due to marijuana than for all violent crimes combined! (Uniform Crime Reports, U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation, 2004.) Honestly, I do not think anybody should have to go to jail for lighting a joint! I also don’t think that cultivating even one marijuana plant should be considered a federal felony, or that the police should be able to give out Driving Under the Influence tickets based on urine tests that could throw positive results even weeks after the consumption of marijuana. It would be like handing out a D.I.U. to someone who is driving Thursdays and had a bottle of wine Saturday night! There are no longer effects on the person’s driving abilities. This policy needs to be rewritten.

Medicines are drugs are medicine – Prescribed Marijuana

Prior to 1937, at least 27 medicines containing marijuana were legally available in the United States. On March 17, 1999, the National Academy of Sciences' Institute of Medicine (IOM) concluded that “there are some limited circumstances in which we recommend smoking marijuana for medical uses.” The IOM report, the result of two years of research that was funded by the White House drug policy office, analyzed all existing data on marijuana's therapeutic uses. So much for those who say that there is no real proof that marijuana has medicinal powers! Here’re some of its uses:

• Relief from nausea and appetite loss (which is why doctor’s prescribe it to cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy, as well as AIDS patients)
• Reduction of intraocular pressure (which is why it alleviates the pain and slows down the damage caused by glaucoma)
• Reduction of muscle spasms (which is why I use it to magically heal my menstrual cramps, and why it's also a viable treatment for multiple sclerosis and epilepsy)
• Relief from chronic pain.

Each of these applications has been deemed legitimate by at least one court, legislature, and/or government agency in the U.S. But many patients report that marijuana is also useful for treating arthritis, migraine, alcohol and opiate addiction, and depression, anxiety and other mood disorders.*

Cannabis sativa L was classifieds in the 1970 Controlled Substances Act as a Schedule 1 drug, right there with heroin and LSD. This defines it as having a high potential for abuse, no currently accepted medical use in treatment, and a lack of accepted safety for use under medical supervision. As I hope you are realizing while reading this, if you don’t already know it, this definition simply does not apply to marijuana.

In 1972, a petition was submitted to the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) — to move marijuana to Schedule II, which would allow doctors to prescribe it to their patients. After 16 years of court battles, the DEA's chief administrative law judge, Francis L. Young, ruled: “Marijuana, in its natural form, is one of the safest therapeutically active substances known… The provisions of the [Controlled Substances] Act permit and require the transfer of marijuana from Schedule I to Schedule II. It would be unreasonable, arbitrary and capricious for DEA to continue to stand between those sufferers and the benefits of this substance. (September 6, 1988)” Nevertheless, top DEA bureaucrats rejected Judge Young's ruling and refused to reschedule marijuana.

Since 1996, a majority of voters in 10 states have voted in favor of ballot initiatives to remove criminal penalties for seriously ill people who grow or possess medical marijuana. Polls have shown that public approval of these laws has increased since they went into effect. Nevertheless, patients in these states can and are still being federally prosecuted for consuming marijuana. Nowadays, many people are pushing for Congress to force the DEA to place marihuana in schedule II. Actually, a national poll released November 1, 2005, found that 78% of Americans support “making marijuana legally available for doctors to prescribe in order to reduce pain and suffering.” In fact, for over a decade, polls have consistently shown between 60% and 80% support for legal access to medical marijuana. Some of the organizations that support some form of physician supervised access to medical marijuana include the American Academy of Family Physicians, American Nurses Association, and the American Public Health Association.* Furthermore, a 1990 scientific survey of oncologists found that 54% of those with an opinion favored the controlled medical availability of marijuana and 44% had already suggested at least once that a patient obtain marijuana illegally. (R. Doblin & M. Kleiman, “Marijuana as Antiemetic Medicine,” Journal of Clinical Oncology 9. 1991: 1314-1319.)The fact is, currently doctors can prescribe cocaine but not marijuana, and many patients would choose to be treated with medical marihuana instead of other much more addictive drugs, such as morphine, if given the legal choice.

The “Except 7 People Myth”

Did you ever hear that the federal law allows only 7 people in the U.S. to use medicinal marihuana? It’s not an urban myth. In 1975, Robert Randall, who suffered from glaucoma, was arrested for cultivating his own marijuana. He won his case by using the “medical necessity defense,” forcing the government to find a way to provide him with his medicine. As a result, the Investigational New Drug (IND) compassionate access program was established, enabling some patients to receive marijuana from the government. The program was grossly inadequate at helping the potentially millions of people who need medical marijuana. Many patients would never consider the idea that an illegal drug might be their best medicine, and most who were fortunate enough to discover marijuana's medicinal value did not discover the IND program. Those who did often could not find doctors willing to take on the program's arduous, bureaucratic requirements. In 1992, in response to a flood of new applications from AIDS patients, the George H.W. Bush administration closed the program to new applicants, and pleas to reopen it were ignored by subsequent administrations. The IND program remains in operation only for the seven surviving, previously-approved patients.*

Stand up for your rights

So we have economic, medical, family, and community reasons, besides, of course, freedom of choice and religious liberty, to legally regulate the use of pot, weed, ganja, whatever you want to call it. Furthermore, Marijuana prohibition subjects those of us who choose to use it to added and unnecessary health hazards, such as adulterants, contaminants, and impurities. Marijuana purchased through criminal markets is not subject to the same quality control standards as are legal consumer goods. Illicit marijuana may be adulterated with much more damaging substances; contaminated with pesticides, herbicides, or fertilizers; and/or infected with molds, fungi, or bacteria… and we would never know it! By making the laws that illegalized marijuana obsolete, we would be eliminating from the root a whole gigantic chain of social problems: from the illicit farms who employ illegal immigrants under inhuman conditions; to the unlawful import of non-regulated marijuana; including medical conditions affecting innocent people who are forced to, at best, recur to illegal marihuana sources; all the way to common underage consumption, black market violence, and waste of tax-payers money and police resources. Will you take a stand?

Irak and Saddam Hussein's death (or... as if we don't have enough media violencie with the Saw trilogy, we now enjoy TELEVISED hangings)

I received an email from a friend today who was outraged by the fact that his very Christian family thought that Saddam Hussein's televised hanging was "the best thing ever." He was indignated 'cause he thought he lived in a civilized community respectful of human rights. But he lives in Kentucky, where the death penalty still finds a stronghold. He said: "It's bad enough they hanged the man, let alone televised it ... come ON...that's a bit ridiculous, don't you think? Who are we to pass such judgment...and then SHOW IT ON TV!!!...what are your thoughts?"

I am sure it had to be filmed because there had to be proof, a lot of people would need to see proof, and a lot of people would demand to see his hanging cadaver, or at least like to see it. To tell you the truth, since it wasn't notoriously televised here, I didn't feel personally 100% positive that it was true, that they did indeed hang him, until I saw the pictures on the NY Times. Before I did the research for this post, it felt like "yeah, right, I would have to see that with my own eyes to believe it." Yet, I don't think I want to see him or anybody truly being hanged. Here's when the dehumanization I always talk about comes in.

Let me fill you in. My mother was very particular about allowing me and my sister to observe violence on tv or otherwhere. We had a strong curfew and censorship when it came to what the media brought to our brains. We never owned a video game, and Barbie was frowned upon. The results where impressive. We should be a case for a psych study. I mean, we were always busy with gymnastics, dance, music, etc. and didn't watch much tv anyway. Nowadays, there is only one old tv (cableless, as always) in my mom's room, so I assume my sister doesn't watch tv. I don't own a tv, haven't for years. I had one for a while over two years ago and I found I'd rather spend my free time reading and writing than staring at it. Do you know anybody who's never played a video game? I'm gonna raise my hand: us. Well, ok, it's not like NEVER, our neighbor had a Nintendo 64. Since it was forbidden fruit in our house, we went through this period, over 10 years ago, when we were very exited about getting to play with it. But as unaccostumed as we were to videogames, it didn't last at all. I am incapable of coordinatedly playing with a control that has more than four buttons, let alone two joysticks! I feel uncomfortable just holding it. I have a lot of difficulty playing a movie in a playstation. Makes me feel like an alien how unfamiliar I am with the damn things. But the interesting thing is that I cannot even watch other people playing games where they kill other people (which is most of the games.) I close my eyes and shriek with old two-dimensional computer games where the little man falls unto a bunch of sticking blades, producing a paint-like red pool. Imagine modern, horribly realistic, war games with real shotgun noises and disgustingly depictive deaths. Goodness, I can't even take ... whatever the name of that video game with the dreaded "fatality" was. As you may already suspect, I have a lot of trouble watching any sort of action movie. I appreciate my bliss, when I truly think about. Imagine, for example, exposing someone from, say, X indigenous tribe in Y part of the world, who has never watched tv to the oh-so-typical image of the bad guy being shot in the heart, and falling down with a horrific cry of pain, bleeding. You really think he wouldn't be seriously shocked? Of course he would! Problem is we are exposed to such things so often since so early in our lives, we don't think anything of it anymore.

So the point is, I would get the creeps from watching someone being hanged in a movie, knowing that it's not true, imagine a real hanging! But most westerners are so used to watching this stuff on TV, their brains probably couldn't tell the difference and they could have been peacefully eating popcorn watching Saddam being hanged, or a serial killer being electrocuted - whether it was real footage or a movie-, or Saw 3.

Everyone seems to agree, that out of all three, the last Saw is definitely the most violent, abominable, bloody, outrageously death-filled, and dreadfully shocking - and I tried to watch this movie! [pause... I'm not saying the movie sucks, they've got a good point with the story behind it ... but for gods' sake, the images! After The Passion of Christ, I didn't think I was ever going to find another movie from which people found as much morbid pleasure in watching other people's suffering.] So, I started eating my popcorn during the commercials and the beginning credits. One minute into the first scene my right hand (the one that usually goes automatically from the popcorn to my mouth) stopped moving. I put the popcorn in the floor and didn't touch it again (I know, the waste!) I could barely watch the screen, let alone eat while watching these horrid images. I'd close my eyes/cover my face/hide in my date's chest for every fucking-hard-to-watch scene. Twenty minutes into the movie, I had my eyes closed more than they were open. I got up and left the theater. But it was too late to save me from the nightmares that night. I was too impressed.

So, learning from experience, I have refused to watch the hanging footage that is apparently available all over the internet. Nevertheless, here is a written detailed description of the hanging.

He was put to death to fulfill a death by hanging sentence over the killing of 148 Shiite men and boys, a minor crime compared to many other important genocide cases, such as that of the Anfal military campaign against the Kurds, in which he is accused of unleashing mass killings and chemical attacks that killed tens of thousands of villagers; or the crushing of an uprising that killed thousands of Shiites. These trials will have to go on without his testimony, and he will never be judged for those crimes. Needless to say, there was strong Kurdish opposition in Iraq to the hasty hanging. “The truth of what happened in al-Anfal and who took part in it has been buried,” said Abu Abdul Rahman, a 38-year-old Kurdish taxi driver.

Besides this political logistic reason, there was also opposition for a religious reason: Islamic and Iraqi law forbids hanging during the holidays, and Eid, the Islamic holiday which marks the end of Ramadan (the month of fasting,) started Saturday for the Sunnis and Sunday for the Shiites. Muhammad Abdul Bari, the secretary general of the Muslim Council of Britain, said: “No one can deny that Saddam should have faced justice for his crimes against the people of Iraq and also his invasion of Iran and Kuwait. However, the fact that his trial took place while Iraq is still under occupation by foreign forces may mean that his execution, on the blessed day of Eid al-Adha, will be regarded as an insensitive and provocative act by the U.S.-backed Iraqi government and that far from contributing to a so-called healing process, it may serve to further intensify the sectarian divisions in Iraq.” According to the Al’JazeeraNetwork , many Muslims, especially Sunnis, making the hajj pilgrimage to Mecca were outraged by the symbolism of hanging Saddam on the holiest day of the year at the start of Eid al-Adha. On the other hand, some Shia also said his death was a suitable gift from God. The New York Times quoted Ms. Abdul Aziz, a Sunni woman, saying: “Actually, I felt angry. It’s not a proper time. I assure you, those who are feeling that this is a good time and a good judgment, they are not Iraqis.” Those statements clearly represent the dichotomy that weighs on Iraq fragmented society.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, the NYT puts it like this: “Iraqis of both sects attempt to draw circles around the chaos in their own minds. As a result, they tend to generalize about the other, coming up with conspiracy theories, to make the violence easier to explain and accept.” By both sects they mean, the Sunnis and the Shiites. (If you know your shit, you may skip this part.) The difference between them stems as far back as Mohammed’s death in 632 and to who should have been his successor in leadership. The Sunni Islam follows the line of nominated Caliphs; while Shi’a Islam follows a hereditary line of Imams. Iraq’s population is mostly Shi’a, but Saddam Hussein and his party where Sunni. We had a case then of an ethnic minority in power, and a very unpleased and suffering majority. Now the Shiites hold the most power in Iraq’s new “democratic” government. Nevertheless, the current Shiite president, leads a “unified” government which is supposed to represent all of Iraq’s sects and ethnicities. As such, he has had to make concessions that deviate from Shiite traditional stand points, and is, therefore, regarded by most Shiites as a traitor. Of course, he is not liked by the Sunnis either, who now feel repressed and blamed for all of Saddam Hussein’s atrocities. The result of this has rendered him and his government powerless while vengeance runs wild in the streets and thousands of innocent lives are lost. The hatred between the sects it’s grown to the irrational point that when asked about a bomb which exploded in a Sunni neighbor, Shiites will reply that the Sunnis put it themselves killing their own people to be able to justify bombing the Shiite neighborhoods – and vice versa. Consequently, neutral neighborhoods are no longer safe, because they are easily accessed by both militia, so people are having to move to purely Shiite or Sunni neighborhoods where the civilian armies' presence are strong enough to protect them. The vicious cycle will only continue as the sons of the adults who saw Saddam’s military assassinate their parents, now watch their own parents attacking the defeated Sunnis, and then killed in vengeance, and feel rencorous and responsible for avenging them in turn. The number of guns and bomb explosions, and the amount of violence and hatred in Iraq’s streets, just like but much worse than our media, is dehumanizing.

Outside of Iraq, the countless voices that rose to oppose the hanging throughout the world echoed human right rationales. Politicians of the many countries that have outlawed capital punishment shunned Saddam’s death sentence. In a statement issued an hour after the execution, Margaret Beckett, the British foreign secretary, said: “I welcome the fact that Saddam Hussein has been tried by an Iraqi court for at least some of the appalling crimes he committed against the Iraqi people. However, the British government does not support the use of the death penalty, in Iraq or anywhere else. We advocate an end to the death penalty worldwide, regardless of the individual or the crime. We have made our position very clear to the Iraqi authorities, but we respect their decision as that of a sovereign nation.” So, now they respect Iraq’s sovereignty! Erkki Tuomioja, the foreign minister of Finland, which holds the rotating presidency of the European Union, said, “The E.U. has a very consistent stand on opposing the death penalty and it should not have been applied in this case either — even though there is no doubt about Saddam Hussein’s guilt over serious violations against human rights.” Rev. Federico Lombardi, the Vatican spokesman, said: “A capital punishment is always tragic news, even if it deals with a person who was guilty of grave crimes. The killing of the guilty party is not the way to reconstruct justice and reconcile society. On the contrary, there is a risk that it will feed a spirit of vendetta and sow new violence.”

Besides the death penalty issue, the other international concern regarding Saddam’s death is the ill-fated consequences it may have in Iraq's already viciously violent sectarian urban warfare. The situation will most certainly be aggravated by the increased tension. The New York Times reported exactly that: “In one major insurgent stronghold, Ramadi, American troops were reported to have fired in the air to scatter demonstrators, who were marching through the streets hoisting portraits of Mr. Hussein and firing automatic weapons into the air. In Falluja, 30 miles west of Baghdad, witnesses said crowds of angry men took to the streets within 90 minutes of the hanging, attacking a police station and a courthouse and setting them ablaze.” All in all, the death of Saddam Hussein will only add to the cycle. In such a difficult situation, it is hard to believe he received a fair judgment, and Sunnis around the world will definitely think he didn’t. In fact, a spokesman of Hamas, a radical Islamic movement, condemned the execution as a “political assassination” that “violates all international laws.” “Saddam Hussein was a prisoner of war,” he said. He called the trial “unjust” and said the date of the execution was insulting, stating that “the Americans have launched threats to all the Arabs.” Go figure! They have gone and turned him into a martyr capable of rallying yet a lot more resentment and violence.

People celebrating








People protesting

Click here for more NYT images

He said “You look gorgeous in the morning light.”

“You look gorgeous in the morning light,” he said.
I was glowing happiness, cuddled in his arms.
We had watched the sun rise, stared at the bluest sky.
He said: “you look gorgeous in the morning light.”

“I want to hear your stories,” I whispered.
So, we filled the daybreak hours with words,
and the world slowly awoke as we talked,
‘till the morning sun shone high and bright.

He said: “Come lay by my side”,
“I want to see you naked”. I stripped down,
then dressed back up. But we had fallen,
could not pull away from each other.

He said: “I’m intoxicated with your scent.”
But he smelled of wine, and felt like dawn.
We hugged under the influence of cold.
“I’m inebriated with your love,” I thought.

He mumbled: “I could stay like this forever,”
as I settled in his arms, smiling satisfied.
He gave me kisses, butterflies, pleasure,
goose bumps, shivers, hickeys, orgasms.

He said: “I would love to worship you,”
his eyes onto mine, my back pressed to the wall.
From above the altar I knelt to him in weak ardor.
“I would love to obey you,” I thought.

“The wind is going to blow you away”
“Of course not, you’re holding me.”
I didn’t want to let him go, I was
ready to turn in my world with a gift bow.

“I found some of your letters,” he had said.
We were a living, throbbing, knotted, complex,
bittersweet, cyclic, ludicrous history of us.
I had answered: “Apologize to me in bed.”

“You look gorgeous in the morning light,” he said.
We spent the night talking, the morning making out.
We had watched the sun rise, stared at the bluest sky.
He said: “you look gorgeous in the morning light.”

Plenilunio

Quisiera que esta noche me esperaran los mios inútilmente, pues estaría contigo hasta la aurora. Y si me agrada madrugar no he de preocuparme: saldremos de estos sueños entre suspiros y repiques de júbilo. No le pongas límites a la libertad, ¿por qué evitar los besos?, no encierres la pasión, no decapites los aullidos antes de que puedan ser pronunciados: aunque no sería por falta de inspiración, tan sólo expresaría la tragedia interior de un mundo en llamas huyendo de sí mismo. Tu cercanía es como una melodía de acordes extraños y placenteros, evoca a mar y a pinos, semeja tormenta, ¿campanas?, ¿truenos? Y me estremezco de pronto bajo tu cuerpo entre gemidos y sollozos … el presagio de una tormenta pronta a estallar. Busco en la memoria las formas del recuerdo; distingo imágenes, sonidos, olores, sensaciones … lágrimas, savia, sudor, rocío, humedad y consecuencias … polvillo de estrellas, reflejo de luna … ambientes que embriagan. Cuando avanza la noche, borrando los contrastes y difuminando la silueta de mis curvas, espacio y tiempo nos son propicios, en el cielo nuestros complices. Provaremos un pícaro juego nocturno, escondiendo y descubriendo … a veces frío, a veces caliente. En el mar de penumbras en el que naufragan las formas, flotará apenas el lecho, y la luz difusa nos invita a zambullirnos en este lago tibio, de donde resurgiremos inundados de luna y de luceros. Como pasando detrás del espejo, crear nuestra propia dimensión de besos. En tantos momentos juntos, mil y un retazos de pudor hechos ropa han cubierto mi cuerpo, pero tú me has visto únicamente desnuda iluminada por la luz de la luna, y sólo así eres capaz de reconocer en mí al blanco adonde se dirigen tus miradas y suspiros de enamorada juventud. Porque tú me haces resurgir grácil, etérea, sublime, contenta de vivir; y de tu cuerpo nazco romántica y me siento poema, retoño de jazmines regados con caricias, forma abstracta, desnuda, réplica pura de la creación. Rítmicamente respiro y tus calladas miradas se adhieren a mi cuerpo y se plasman en mi piel, embelesado como un escultor frente a la obra que ha hecho surgir del mármol. Y si, agotada, me tomas en tus brazos, me llevas a la cama y me haces dormir acariciándome como a una niña, seré feliz, mientras tu sueñas que me susurras al oído los gritos de tu alma: “¿Recuerdas? tú estabas sobre el césped húmedo, desnuda, iluminada por un claro de luna. Te quejabas, te retorcías ansiosa. Me acerqué y sentiste mi respiración sofocante como mis deseos, abriste los ojos, me viste. Nuestras bocas se funideron en una… nuestros cuerpos. Y fue necesario que le abrieras un cauce a mi torrente de fuego, que es un océano de lava, encarcelado, que se iba abriendo paso hacia tus adentros.” Destapando ilusiones, nos extraviaremos en nuestro propio laberinto de pasiones y vagaremos a tientas tropezando con nuestra poesía hecha gritos. Y ya desesperados, tal vez terminaremos preguntándonos en qué esquina de la cama se nos perdió la realidad.

Nov. 14, 2001

Parafraseado de/Inspirado por la obra “Plenilunio” de Rogelio Sinán.

FOR HOW LONG?

For how long? For how long have u been around?
You were indeed not hiding in the shadows,
why were you then so dim to me?
What sort of magic kept me from seeing,
from seeing beyond the tip of my nose?
Far away or tightly close, spectator or lover,
you have always been around, but
how long ago? How long ago did u become
the ideal blue-eyed prince that rode my dreams?
Time measurements serve me not,
for love is not good with numbers,
and I'm not good with words when I try
to show you what has been hidden,
hidden inside my heart, out of sight.
You were always in my picture, but
most of the time I saw straight through you.
There was always something morbidly shining
beyond your spectrum that caught my naïve attention,
and stole the focus you deserved,
sometimes fairly earned, sometimes not so well.
And we went trough cycles,
and cycles went trough us.
Focuses shifted, hopes wandered.
The momentum came and vanished.
We cried and laughed, but mostly lusted.
Sometimes you were sure you owned me,
sometimes I love you's escaped unexpectedly,
some others they were very conscious.
Perhaps we tried to force the right angle,
perhaps we tried to avoid the risks.
The ocean roared through many nights,
and the moon smiled at many moans,
since pleasure was invoked more than anything.
The perfect lost clue always laid with us in bed.
After nights together, life tried, once again,
to pull us apart, would the joke ever have a final laugh?
The cup slipped from my hands,
the mead was spilled like blood,
and, finally, the glass broke.
Then suddenly my tears tasted like truth,
bitter sweet facts that seemed suddenly obvious.
Light came to be, freezing the moment
when love was all that existed in the universe,
in my universe that speeded in circles,
dizzily fast, it suddenly had an axis.
It only took a random twist of perspective to make me realize,
that my universe had always turned around you.

La Fiesta de la Luna at Miami Beach - A joyful drumcircling party and ritual for the moon

The full moon conjures up headaches and menstrual pains on some women, and gathers the ones that call themselves witches to celebrate the Esbat and chant. Some believe it awakens the werewolves, or at least some howling dogs. The atmosphere is definitely charged with airs of frolic soaked in sexual connotations, dripping suggestive undertones of mystery. In Miami Beach, the full moon brings La Fiesta de la Luna.

The full moon is just an excuse for the gathering, and yet it’s also its motivating cause and soul. A couple hundred youth, and many of those forever young at heart, gather up by the ocean to contemplate the reflection of the bright moon on the flickering waves. Although the clouds hover over the celebration, sometimes hiding the intense, captivating moon; not even the occasional bursts of rain stop the fest. Drum circles spot the sand for blocks and blocks. Tonight, women dance in bikini tops and flowing skirts belted with coins. If you are already wearing a swimming suit, what does it matter if you get wet?

Bonfires, candles, and the occasional flash of cameras, illuminate the night, already cleared by the moonlight. People drink and smoke – cigarettes, and marihuana, and god knows what else. Couples lay out mediating in stretched out pareos. The rest of us look for romance in nearby smiles. The passionate, rhythmic drilling of the drums is hypnotizing. We breathe in the mild, harmonious collective hysteria of the moments in which nothing else truly matters but the moment in itself, the beat of the music, the movement of the hips.

The occasion celebrates freedom in its simplest form – that of a space and time for non-judgmental enjoyment. Each person is free to decide in which side of their own concept of liberty and libertinage to stand. It is a justification for behaviors we would otherwise not engage in for fear of rejection, such as playing the drums recklessly or dancing as in a trance. We are allowed to plunge in the web of deep communal intensity; to be part of the momentary community that moves freely and independently, but at unison with the collective beat, holding hands. We are also allowed to stand by ourselves, among all the people who dance by themselves and for themselves, in the sea of individual waves, saturated with heartbeats and drumbeats. We are even allowed to calmly seat and watch, listen to the dancing waves, feel the drops of rain, contemplate the life bubbling out of everybody else – and write, if we so please. To think that I could walk in the ocean, and bathe naked in this moonlight, suddenly breaks locks that were forced closed in my mind – those that delineate what is socially acceptable and what is not.

The people that were here tonight will wait another twenty-eight days for another chance to experience, to cooperate with raising the energy that is, la Fiesta de la Luna. Once again, we will leave our names at home, and ignore the pungent smell of consequences. The full moon is just an excuse, but it is also the heart and moving force for this monthly energy renewing ritual of joyful spirituality – rain or not.

BOHEMIAN MANIFESTO (how come we are bohemian artists and why)

Bohemian living, or consciousness, if you will, has always been provocative. There’s just something about the freedom, recklessness, scandal, artistic vision and spiritual splendor that makes it tantalizing. Bohemianism is not a trend; it’s a timeless movement, a way of life that reappears every now and then as a backlash against our bourgeois, mass market, easy access culture. Bohemianism is more than an attitude. It’s the freedom of ideas, clothing and behavior gently outside the norm. Bohemians wear contrarianism more liberally than ordinary people wear polyester. Bohemians break the rules, set the trends, destroy the art and reinvent the art that everyone wants, or will, eventually, want. Bohemians start movements, they stay up all night talking, and change the world. The Bohemian is not a follower of the virtues espoused by bourgeois society: routine, convention, mediocrity, materialism and respectability. Bohemians despise authority, the status quo, and, because they are often happily broke for not giving up their art in exchange for comfort, capitalism and consumerism. They love all that ignites poetry, music, paintings, and magic. Ingenuity and free-thinking are required for their type of creativity. Giving up security takes the courage to reject mainstream society, to follow dreams and “be yourself at whatever cost”, to shock, revolutionize, to take risks. It takes audacity and confidence to champion unpopular causes, to disregard decorum and morality, to be rebellious against established traditional living arrangements, archaic moral codes and business hours. Bohemians are expatriates that create their own gypsy nirvana wherever they go, making their own music and art. They don’t own a watch, they scatter like seeds, naming things: songs, paintings, poems, characters, movements, children; inspired by gods and goddess, flowers, seasons, rivers. They love colors, melodies, textures, feelings, experiences, sensations. Today’s young urban bohemians are full of vitality, play with their hairstyles, pierce and decorate their bodies, and express eccentricities, poetic anarchy, revolution, creativity, deviance and defiance, with their globally conscious street-smart unique flea-market-ridden personal styles. They create their own aura of smoky mystery and fill their atmosphere with swirls of real smoke like a surreal blanket of edge-softening fairy-fire haze, the residue of mind-altering acts: candles, incense, fireplaces, bonfires, weed, hashish, imported cigarettes, cheap cigarettes, cloves. Like the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland that smokes a water-pipe and becomes a butterfly: transformation and mind expansion delight bohemians. Light is a bohemian’s passion for its power to create mood, romance and drama, more than for utilitarianism. Modesty has never been part of the bohemian vocabulary: nudity is a liberating beauty, free of class, inhibitions, pretense, an opportunity to return to the earth, to create a utopia uncomplicated by buttons, buckles, zippers and ties. Bohemians are always more comfortable naked than normal people with their decency, traumas and embarrassment. The human form, proportions, skin, body, mind, and soul are the greatest inspiration to the Bohemian. There is no shame, and sometimes even a little glory, in experiencing altered mental states whether they are trance, ecstasy, inspiration, insanity, or drug-induced. Bohemians live traveling inordinately, incessantly, observing, learning, teaching, sharing, freeloading, freewheeling, free-loving, freedom bound, drinking, bartering, smoking what comes their way, taking jobs, notes, photos, fueling up with tea, wine, coffee, absinthe, and other elixirs; moving through a world with few inhibitions, with non-conditioned love-lust that inspires, provokes, evokes, invokes and bursts art, open marriages, soul-mate partnerships, ménages a trios, a bed full of lovers, and any other intimate and romantic, encounter that may end up in a poem, song or painting. They live (oh they live!) truly and deeper than most mortals, dedicated to liberty and often overlooking jealousy, immune to taboos. For life is art is life is art, and Bohemian artists like to be challenged, provoked and disturbed by art (alternative, underground, independent music, cinema, theater, dance); playing in the streets and the parks, dancing on the grass; expanding horizons, minds and music tastes, redefining reality, constantly on the look for something new… always living on the edge.

Schism

If you have a space with a structure in it, there first has to be an obliterating schism for you to be able to use those same materials to make a new structure in that space.
For there be a new order, I must not avoid the destruction of my status quo. Without things ending there will be no things beginning. Beyond the devastation of this wildfire,
rampaging through my forests, new seeds will flourish. I have to accept the pieces of my current puzzle collapsing, so I can shuffle them around and build with them a new picture.

No Birds in Cages

Infinite abundance of love.
There’s always enough,
And yet there never will.

A boomerang of happiness.
Only our beloved’s joy
Will bring us ease.

Open, clear, peaceful truth.
No bitterness from jealousy,
No guilt from lies.

Deep acceptance and respect.
We honor each other’s feelings,
We love ourselves for who we are.

Compromise and commitment,
We don’t run away, we face.
Freedom doesn’t mean no attachments,
It just means no chains.

Vuelve a casa y tendremos

Vuelve a casa y tendremos
domingos de hacer el amor
y permanecer en la cama
cómodos y acurrucados
hasta que nos levante el hambre.

Vuelve a casa y tendremos
lunes a viernes de rutina
estable, de lucha diaria,
de almuerzos con música
y planes mutuos y
pensamientos compartidos,
de lavar platos interrumpidos
por saciar deseos ligeros
y regresar al estudio o trabajo
como quien despierta de una siesta
o de un chapuzon de agua fresca,
de seis buenas noches por noche
tras dos horas de charla y
"debemos dormir",
de mañanas de turnarnos la tarea
de cantar y tironear del abrazo
cálido de la cama al adormecido
compañero de aventuras.

Vuelve a casa y tendremos
sábados,
sábados de colectar
semillas de sueños de las nubes
y sembrarlas en la tierra
para cosechar realidades!
de construir bloque a bloque
nuestras verdades,
de crear nuestras vidas
y re-crearnos
eterna y constantemente
el uno al otro.

There is a thrill of love and fear
that keeps me up at night,
and when you ask what I’m thinking,
here’s what goes through my mind:
Thank you
for making me constantly aware
of the pleasure wells
held within my body,
for keeping me conscious
of the spots that trigger
goose bumps and pleased smiles,
for reminding me of
the flowing rivers
that innervate my skin and flesh.
Thank you
for always making sure I remember
how enjoyable it is
to be spoiled and cuddled,
to fall asleep hugged,
to wake up kissed,
to be looked at with eyes
that water “I’m falling for you,”
to be wrapped in arms
that hold “Don’t go away,”
to be brushed by lips
that don’t pronounce
the words our bodies shout.

Todos Juntos

Abro la puerta del apartamento, adentro Andrés y Jorge juegan playstation, Facundo toca en la cama, y Miguel esta sentado a la compu al fondo. Entro y Brandon me sigue unos pasos. Mira alrededor del cuarto, pero nadie lo determina. "I had a really good time, Malena. Thank You." Sonrío. "What a wonderful woman!" exclama en un intento de interacción que le reafirme que existe. Los cuatro responden a coro "a la orden." Pero el único que desvía sus ojos de lo que está haciendo para decirlo es Facundo, y en seguida vuelve a su guitarra. Cierro los ojos y ahogo una carcajada. Brandon también sonríe, una sonrisa extrañada, si no un poco incomoda. Me abraza y me da un beso. "I'll see you Friday, then?" Yo asiento con la cabeza y él se va. Me zambullo en la cama y se me escapa un suspiro que se hace eco en el silencio. Escucho que Miguel deja de teclear por un segundo, y me parece ver que sonríe. Andrés y Jorge siguen jugando y Facundo me pregunta "enamorada, ya?" "Comieron?" pregunto por respuesta, mientras me incorporo y voy hacia la cocina. Abrazo a Miguel y le doy un beso, quizás maternal, en la cabeza. "Uy, hace un hambre!" dice. "Hazte algo rico, nena" reacciona finalmente Andrés. "Es que yo ya comí, ahí hay jamón y queso, háganse unos sanguches." Desde el espejo del baño me miro risueña. Cuando salgo nadie se ha movido un centímetro. Hoy estoy de buen humor, y se aprovechan. Yo les sirvo sanguches.

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Malena sueña con algo a mi lado cuando despierto. Esta hablando dormida. Andrés y Jorge duermen en el colchón. Me encuentro con la mirada de Facundo desde la cocina. Malena vuelve a hablar, pero no se entiende lo que dice y nos causa mucha risa. Puta, ya son las tres! Le tiro una almohada a Jorge. "Huevon! Vos no tenias que estar en el teatro hace media hora?" "Hmmm," es todo lo que responde. Me levanto y pongo música mientras Facundo calienta agua para el café y el mate. Cuando Bob Marley está por empezar su segunda canción, Jorge se levanta como una flecha. Se oye el portazo del baño, el inodoro, el portazo del baño. Yo prendo un cigarrillo y Jorge se pone unos pantalones que son de Andrés y no le cierran, se los quita y los tira sobre una de las pilas de ropa, se pone otros, una camiseta, un gorro rasta que en realidad es de Facundo. Se sienta a mi lado a enchufarse las medias y las zapatillas. Le paso el cigarrillo, y él lo toma preguntando: "Parse, no hay ganja?" "Igual no tenés tiempo, boludo" le dice Facundo desde la cocina. "Apúrate, hombre!" le digo quitándole el cigarrillo. Se amarra los cordones con rabia, traga agua, sale corriendo con un portazo. Malena da vueltas en la cama. Esta despeinada y tiene los labios manchados de vino. Se tapa y se destapa la camiseta que lee "Latina & Proud," la tanga, esas piernas de bailarina. Finalmente se levanta, y va a acurrucarse con Andrés. "Hay que pagar el alquiler," murmura medio dormida.

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Nomás es que abro la puerta del apartamento y me choco con las piezas de la batería. Que fucking escándalo! Me cayeron todas encima! Ya no se aguanta vivir en esta puta casa! La mierda se derrama por todos lados, las cosas nos invaden el espacio. Las pintura y demás materiales de Miguel se han apoderado de la cocina. El barro con el que esta haciendo esa estúpida estatua y el yeso de las máscaras han tomado posesión del baño. Comemos esparcidos por el piso, porque Andrés ha declarado la mesa su área de trabajo: computadora, scanner, impresora, cuanto aparato se le ocurra a uno! No se puede sacar ropa del armario sin tropezarse con mis zancos y vainas de malabares - Malena habla muy literalmente cuando dice que esta casa parece un circo! Levantarse a media noche al baño es toda una hazaña, porque a uno se le puedo tropezar el pie con un zapato de baile o un amplificador, se le puede estrellar a uno en la nariz una guitarra, un tambor, mi bajo que siempre anda siempre con la mala maña de esconderse, o uno se puede dar de pleno en el estómago con el teclado de Andrés que tiene la manía de moverse constantemente de lugar cuando nadie lo ve. Se mezcla la ropa de todos y ya no se sabe cuál es limpia y cuál es sucia, se enredan los cables y no se sabe qué es de qué, se pierden los encendedores y las llaves...por esos estamos siempre todos tarde a todos lados... si alguien colgara las llaves en la fucking puerta, o las guitarras en la pared! Para que me habré martillado yo el maldito dedo poniendo esos clavos? Y para acabar no se puede ni dormir en paz! Siempre hay alguien activo, es cuestión nomás de que uno se acueste y cierre los ojos para que otro justo llegue y se ponga a hacer ruido. También con los horarios de cada uno! Con el tiempo que estoy pasando yo en el teatro, no he podido ir a ver uno solo de los recitales de Malena! Y desde que Facundo y Miguel se consiguieron ese trabajo viven en ese bar de mala muerte! Andrés es el único que siempre está en casa, pegado al monitor de la PC. A mí en el teatro me hacen trabajar como un perro y me pagan una miseria! Y a ése le pagan el doble pa que esté todo el día sentado con las paginas web! Quisiera saber yo cuando vamos a ensayar! … Puta! Hoy había que pagar el alquiler!

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"Mierda, Jorge! Dónde te habéis metido? Hace horas que fuimos a pagar el alquiler!"
"Puta, parse, se me pasó dejar la plata esta mañana. Recién salgo del ensayo."
"'Se me olvidó, se me olvidó.' No se como carajo, pero Facundo puso tu parte por ti, porque si no otra vez tarde y nos cobran por eso. No seas tan irresponsable!"
"Cálmate, Andrés. Tú porque estas todo el día en la casa, y no tienes el lío en la cabeza como el resto de nosotros. No es tan insólito que se me haya pasado."
"Ay no, vale! Otra vez con eso? Que esté en la casa no significa que no trabajo y no ando también con mil cosas en la cabeza. Si me la paso el día entero 'laburando' (como diría Facu.) Por cierto, dijo que ensayamos mañana a las diez en el estudio de ..."
"'Dijo qué?! Quién mierda se cree Facundo? El jefe de quién? Yo tengo obra mañana! Por que no pregunta?"
"Por que se supone que escribamos nuestros horarios en el calendario. Malena no tiene que bailar mañana, y Facundo y Miguel arreglaron para quedar libres. Como que tenés obra mañana? Escribe bien las cosas, tío, aquí marcaste solo viernes y sábados!"
"Get off my back! En cualquier momento se le va a ocurrir armarnos un horario para cagar! Igual en esta casa todo el mundo hace lo que quiere!"
Yo no le respondí porque en ese momento la música que suena en el stereo dice todo lo que hay que decir: "Por eso estamos como estamos, por estamos siempre nos quejamos, y tal parece que gozamos con ver las cosas al revés!"

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Cuando llego a la casa Jorge está preparando algo de cenar. Por lo menos el nene se digna a cocinar, y no lo hace mal. Hoy hubo demasiada gente en el bar, no quiero traer el stress a nuestro hogar. Prendo incienso y un faso - el humo es todopoderoso! "Y los demás?" me pregunta Jorge. "Malena debe haberse ido hace rato al teatro, hoy tenían doble función. Miguel no sé donde está: hoy no le toca laburar" respondo agregando, "che, y Andrés?" El frunce la cara y me dice, mirando para otro lado: "Debe haber ido a ver a la nena esa, si para eso sólo sale de la casa! Hoy discutimos porque yo me fui en la mañana sin dejar pa'l alquiler. Que carajos habla él si estaba dormidote! Como no tiene nada que hacer! Mi parte está sobre la mesa, por cierto, me dijo que lo pusiste por mí, gracias."
A mí me cuesta no apadrinar a Jorge por llevarle diez años de vida, como a Malena le cuesta no hacernos de madre por ser la única mujer. Últimamente, Jorge y Andrés discuten mucho, y bastante fuerte. Pero ya nadie se preocupa, porque enseguida vuelven a ser los mejores amigos. Por suerte, porque si llegamos a tener que tocar, esas malas vibras afectarían la música. Mientras todos sigamos compartiendo la pasión por nuestra música, todo estará bien … Bueno, eso y tener pa'l alquiler.