Category Archives: Eastside

Poems as Ammo

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eslwhereyoufrom

I get the feeling all the fake ass newbie “eastsiders” over in Silver Lake are starting to get a bit hot under the collar as the heat of their erroneous ways starts to rise. They’ve been schooled repeatedly about where the Eastside isn’t, but they try to act all “what, I didn’t catch that” as if ignorance will keep them from getting burned. Now that Pat Morrison has joined our guerrilla army and we are winning some skirmishes, the time is ripe for a full frontal assault!

A renegade band of insurgents has started their own cell in this major effort (who’s leading this splinter group, is it you Al Desmadre?) and will be battling this Thursday May 7 2009 at Eastside Luv  using poems as weapons. What the? Poetry? Oh well, I guess we can use all kinds of things to throw out our enemies. Sticks, stones and names. I think I’m gonna suspend my permanent ban on all things poetic just to check this event out, cuz it looks like it might be fun. And it finally gives me an excuse to check out Eastside Luv, which also means suspending my ban on “wine bars”.

Damn, this could be a trap…

See ya there!

Eastside Luv 1835 E First St 323.262.7442

Los Juan Diegos

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edit-3Beautiful isn’t it ? I was amazed when I first saw it and I’m still amazed every time I see it when I pass by it on Chavez and Lorena. I love art and since I’ve been learning about the artists who helped make Chicano Art what it is today, I have a tremendous appreciation for it. I have great respect for any artist and Chomps is no exemption. Chomps has been working on his this mural called, “Los Juan Diegos” for quite some time. He named it after himself and his brother. Like any artist, he has to make a living some where else to pay the bills and spends what free time and money he has on his art. He ends up borrowing equipment to get the job done a lot.

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Boston’s On Fire, and so is El Sereno

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Or at least some of its hills.  Fire seems to be under control now or that’s as much as I can tell by the white smoke and the fact that the helis are gone. Only question I have, why did the helicopters that practice water drops from the DWP property in Montecito Heights every weekend not actually show up when a fire broke out in the neighborhood?
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Lies and Berries: Art Is Priceless Except When It Costs $1.75

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BookSale. Two words together that make me smile, kinda like job and blow. I got up on Saturday morning, a lazy morning, the best kind. Exercise, wash clothes, check e-mail, blah blah. Looked at my calendar and saw that the week of April 12 – 18 was highlighted. Of course, National Library Week! Ok, they weren’t highlighted, just kidding. I promise.

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Memories of a Lost Boulevard; JonSons Markets

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jonsons-ext-today

JonSons Market
4820 Whittier Boulevard between Fetterly & Fraser Avenues, East Los Angeles
Brooklyn & Matthews Avenue, East Los Angeles
Whittier Blvd. & Lorena, East Los Angeles
Whittier Blvd. & 20th Street, Montebello

Every payday my dad would give my mom her expense allowance for the week.
I recall that it was about $25 for all the groceries and necessities our household might need. My mom would grumble about what a cheapskate my dad was and she’d have to always supplement that allowance with her meager earnings from her seamstress job at Jod’is Sportswear sweatshop factory on Whittier Bl. & Vancouver Ave…. Continue reading →

La Bamba as universal truth

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Edward R. Roybal – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Ed Roybal (February 10, 1916 – October 24, 2005) was an American politician.

Inspired by El Chavo’s post, on the resistance to the Gold Line route on the Eastside being called the Edward Roybal “Linea de Oro” . I just shake my head a have another drink of wine. Here you have a route named after the great Edward Roybal who was one of the founders of the Mexican American Political Association (MAPA), who was the first Mexican American LA City Councilman since 1870 or something, first Chicano US Congressman, the first Congressman to get bilingual education into the schools as law, a spokesman for all minority people and probably the greatest Mexican American political leader of the 20th century, from the LA Eastside, (and Roosevelt High), the Honorable Edward Roybal.

But no sir, wait just a minute, we don’t want to piss off Lou Dobbs, Walter (my car radio is speaking to me in Spanish), Moore, The Minutemen, English only nabobs, and the fearful of Latino power, lying sanganabeetches, who oppose any Spanish language in public.  Because in reality they fear to their bone marrow the rise of Latino Americans and see the name “Linea de Oro” as a threat.

What bullshit! Even though they live in a city called Los Angeles, in a state called California, have next door neighbors (Mexico), who speak the Spanish language, they piss their pants if anyone dare propose any further Spanish language inroads into the holy grail of Anglo America. Funny, because if you go to the ancestral mountain pueblo, high in the Sangre de Cristo Mtns.  of that great American, Edward Roybal, in Pecos, New Mexico, (where I was last week btw), and where his and other familia’s go back literally hundreds of years, you will still be greeted in the Spanish language, Hola! Que Tal Señor? Bienvenidos Señor, de donde viene? Ah Los Angeles? Oh, tengo mucha familia en el este de de Los Angeles, no quieres una helada Mano? Como se llama Primo? Gee how dangerous the Spanish language is!

And on the subject of the Spanish language here’s an ambassador of Español that instead of fear and loathing, as in some parts of Los Angeles, brings happiness and brotherhood all around the world.

La Bamba!

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La Linea de Odio

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I guess someone should have mentioned it here earlier, this whole thing with Gloria Molina asking for the new Eastside extension to be named in Spanish, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. I keep forgetting about the hatred people have for Spanish and Spanish speakers. In 2009. In a city of mostly Latinos, where half speak Spanish. I was planning on being outraged at the backwardness, call some assholes out, but fuck it, who cares? It’s just the monolingual ethnic white enclaves grasping at anything as they build up the virtual gates to stave off the inevitable: you will have to accept us. And the way we speak. Oh, I bet they are longing for those restrictive covenants now.

This shit is old and tired and repetitive. I’m used to it. I grew up with it. A second class citizen in my own country. My primary language mocked, derided, condemned. Taking the brunt of irritation as some annoyed monolingual bureaucrat is forced to talk through a child to communicate with his Spanish speaking parents. Authority figures that treat you like a criminal just because of an East Los accent. Newbies to the city thinking I’m the foreigner since they don’t recognize that accent. Even as other romance languages signify upscale. Yet a symbolic gesture to recognize one of the main languages on the Eastside, somehow that’s considered offensive?  Efaak eyuu.

I’m not going to get mad. Para tal baboso, sus babosadas. Look it up.

What you don’t understand is that we have defensive mechanisms, built from experience, to deal with this continued attack on our identity. What you don’t understand is that your streak of hostility will not touch us.

Sas!

Swapmeetero Music

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On the way into the venerable Rosemead swapmeet, we get soothed by the melancholy sounds of a man and his accordion, singing for us to “let him cry, because he’s wounded”. Actually, he’s just singing an old favorite “Dejenme Llorar” by Los Freddy’s, a popular hit in the 70’s but which resonates just a bit more since this musico appears to be blind.

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Entrance line, accordion, crying, wounds, tips, 75¢ entrance fees, tickets, ticket takers: it all happens so fast that you can only get a snippet. Probably the musico doesn’t care, it’s the way he makes his money. But still, I could have waited a bit to catch some more. Oh well, la vida sigue pasando, en chinga y de aprisa.

Mission Road

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If your car windows get busted or you need a new yanta Mission Road got all that plus more. The gritty street starts near the 10 fwy around the vicinity of 7th street, and runs north turning into Huntington Dr. There are homes on some parts of Mission Road, but it is mostly industrial buildings and one giant man. Oh I can’t forget the El Pato Hot Sauce Factory on Mission, thanks El Pato the food I made today with you was yummy.

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Google photo

I was driving down Mission just off Cesar Chavez and stopped to take some pictures. I just wanted to explore the cuts and crevasses around and see what I would run into.

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