LA Eastside

In Quantum Physics, there is a Law of Attraction in which similar objects are attracted to each other. Since we humans are also part of the physical world, that theory would also apply to each of us.
I am fortunate to meet many great men and women during my usual week. They work quietly and diligently in the background, always steady, always faithful—adding more than their share towards the whole. It is not then surprising that two such similar beings should succumb to the Laws of Attraction even on the eastside.
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I told Chuy90023 that his comment on Daniel Hernandez’s post regarding his flip-flop on the Eastside definition was worthy of it’s own post, and being the typical humble Eastsider, he put his response in the comment of a previous post. Vato, you need to learn from these paid journalists; the only thing that makes their words more meaningful is that they act like their words have more meaning. And since I know Chuy’s words really do mean more than those of guys that get paid to write, I’m reposting his comment here as its own post, on a website that doesn’t rely on web traffic as a source of revenue.

I posted the comment below on Daniel Hernandez’s Intersections yesterday but el Chavo and I thought I’d repost it here since probably not a lot of LAEastside.com readers visit the other site:

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One of my fondest memories growing up was going to the movies with my parents. Even in San Diego, we had our version of the Million Dollar Theatre, but ours was in Logan Heights.“El Coronet” was where Mexican cinema was a weekly Mecca for the culturally starved and homesick. It didn’t matter if I had a small Spanish vocabulary, at 8 years old I began to understand the tension between women and men giving into love, keeping their principles and resolving their differences to come together. All this visual-audio negotiation took place in a spectacular romantic Ranchera Musical, with fabulous costumes, handsome leading men and strong principled women. It was there that the emotionally charged scaled notes began to send chills up my spine, at the same time made my heart well up with cultural pride. My friend, John Santos an Afro-Cuban drummer told me he feels the same deep emotion when he hears bagpipes, because he is part Irish. Makes me wonder if sounds are also part of our genetic make-up. Denise Chavez’novel Loving Pedro Infante reaffirms that we Chicanitas learn about our ideal hombre through these icons of Mexican cinema.

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(Horse riders on the San Gabriel River. Photo by permission of myself.) If you want a soundtrack, click play on the video below.
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There’s nothing like a tragedy to remind us that we are all on borrowed time, and hopefully we’ll try to make the most of the remaining stretch. Here’s a few blogs and posts I’ve been reading that put things into context.

Moon over at French Benefits writes about missing the 111 Metrolink train yesterday, that same one that hit a freight train and is now a fatal wreck. She worries if some of the fellow passengers she’s come to recognize are okay.

Miguel of The Los Angeles Eastside Scene sent out an email announcing that “life has gotten in the way of my blogging” thus he will no longer be hosting the monthly Latino blogger meetups. I know his site recently slowed down but I hope he doesn’t stop posting for good.

Alice Bag is putting her autobiography in process online over at her Violence Girl blog, and she’s up to her Stevenson Jr. High days. Retracing your steps to see where you have been in this life must be a good way to estimate what it’s all about.

On a similar note, Evil Chavo (no relation to yours truly!) recounts his experiences about life in City Terrace, casting himself as a “Survivor from the streets of ELA“. It’s sad that surviving your childhood neighborhood is such a common thread when Eastsiders write about their life stories, but that’s just the way it is. Still, I’d like to see more Eastsiders jotting down some notes about life on the Eastside, it definitely helps to fill in the wide gaps in the missing history of our part of town.

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This morning while reading the Times, I saw this story about the Landscaping Goats that were brought into Downtown L.A. to clear the weeds on an empty Hill Street lot. Wow, this I gotta see! So I grabbed some bus tokens and my camera and headed for Downtown… (more…)

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So its been a while since I’ve ventured into bloglandia. A ton of stuff has happened.

First and foremost, like I mentioned before, I went on vacation to Puerto Rico.

It was beautiful but I know for sure I am not a tropics guy. Hot and humid is not for me.

I did try to catch as much Olympic volleyball as I possibly could on vacation and when I got home, LOVE ME SOME VOLLEY BALL!

If I were to go back it would be to kick it in Cuelbra a small island next to PR. (for extended vacation pics and story go to pachucoville)

As soon as I got back the new semester started at CSUN. They enrolled a record 4,000 something Freshmen. Usual numbers were 2,500, but since there is an average 60-65% drop out rate by Junior year, and because of the recession, gas prices and the overall sad state of things I think the university thought they should bring in more Frosh to make up for even higher drop out rates in the future.

I got all freshmen course this semester and they are too cool. They are open to putting down the iPod and learning about the historical era they are living in. I hope I can keep their interest and not scare them too much.

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There are many things that can go wrong in the course of our lives. For the most part, we overcome them and soldier on. Of the many misfortunes transpired within our forgotten pasts, there is one particular pathos that we can never seem to fully erase. We never forget the day we lost our bike. (more…)

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First they came for our raw tomatoes. Then they came for our chiles, lumping jalapenos in with serranos, just cuz some fools can’t tell the difference. And now, in a total assault against Mexicans and their salsas, they’re setting their targets on molcajetes, that ancient and simple kitchen tool used to grind down ingredients by hand.

When will the insanity end? At what point do we take up arms to defend our simple condiments? I wonder if right after they ordered the planes into the towers, the Ketchup Lobby planned this war against salsas? I better tune into KPFK to find out.

(Thanks to Burro Hall for that hilarious link to the terrorist lava rock bowls!)

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I found a new phrase.

Hipster Racism, I found it at Racialicious, the ladies over there are so smart.

“I define hipster racism (I’m borrowing the phrase from Carmen Van Kerckhove) as ideas, speech, and action meant to denigrate another’s person race or ethnicity under the guise of being urbane, witty (meaning “ironic” nowadays), educated, liberal, and/or trendy.”
AJ Plaid, Racialicious

I used to just call it the “tattooed, pseudo progressive, over-educated, asshole” problem, but this is much better.

Back in the day (the 90s) an ethnic minority in Los Angeles only had to stay away from Republican areas and never visit the Southern part of the United States (or the South Bay, oh let’s throw in Covina and Tujunga too) and they would be shielded from being openly mocked owing to what they were ethnically (not from being harassed by the cops, they will always be a problem), but those days are over.

We can now enjoy being mocked by Obama supporting, vegetarian diet, Ivy League graduate liberals, with “multi-colored” sex partners. Well thank god. We’ve come so far.
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I was riding the Blueline train the other day and this young black man was trying to get my attention. He wasn’t that cute, he was too young, and I have a boyfriend.

I mean I have a boyfriend; even if he were the right age and was cute I definitely would not have talked to him. I don’t think.

Anyways me ignoring him pissed him off, so he proceeded to call me a “f*cking b*tch.”

It was weird, because I haven’t been called a bitch by a black guy (that wasn’t homeless) in years. The last time a black man called me a bitch was when I brought a white guy friend on accident (sort of) to a coffee shop that was very heavy on Nation of Islam types. Well this guy didn’t so much call me a bitch, but pulled out a gun and threatened to kill the guy I was with (he said he didn’t believe in hurting black women,) that actually happened. Awesome story, but that’s another post.
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