The nature of disappointment

When my Swiss miss girlfriend broke up with me a couple of weeks ago, I only felt the sarcastic pangs of indifference, that ever-so-facetious twinge of, "Oh, whatever shall I do?? Now I'll have to grovel at the ugly feet of all those who I've rejected if I want some play!" It's ludicrous to imagine that I'd be hurt by such an event. It's no use being disappointed by inevitabilities. Because nothing lasts forever. ¡Qué cliché! Women will come and go, and you too, as a man, will come and go, and there will be another in your stead. That's the way it is.

But something has been bugging me these last couple of days. I have one of those digital cable boxes, and for me, it's almost as good as the basic cable Tio Carlos used to get us for free when we lived in Oak Cliff. I mean, a lot of times the reception is terrible, and sometimes channels will disappear or malfunction terribly, but it really beats the hell out of the constant static and three channel selection of the old analog. Before exposition turns to full-on digression, I will go ahead and say that I am heartbroken to report that my favorite channel on the box, 33-2, or LATV, is no longer available.

Yes! Tengo un corazón roto. I really don't understand this. I mean, I don't think ANYONE would miss 33-1, or The CW, what with its re-runs of Family Guy, The Simpsons, and Two and a Half Men, its crappy news (although, Amanda Salinas es la REINA), or ANY of its original programming, but here we are, nevertheless, seeing the cliché "the good die young" exerting its presence, its reality, all in our fucking faces.

LATV could've done some beautiful things had it been given the opportunity. It could've made being bilingual cool and not just a way for dealing with drug cartels or buying Tijuana prostitutes. It could've introduced a whole new audience to Spanish music with brains y alma como: Julieta Venegas, Calle 13, Belanova, etc. Okay, maybe I'm being steretypical and grandiose all at once, but seriously, Me voy a extrañar esa canal más que cualquier mujer que tal vez déjame en ruinas.

More from "Ahora, tengo que ir..."

"Cigarette Butts in Beer Bottles"

i don't know how many times i watched
billy bob thornton in bad santa but may
be the most important lesson to learn if
one even cares is that one should proba
bly not drink from the first bottle one s
ees

&&SG

"Party Girls and Wake and Blows"

i woke up because i was dreaming of having sex
everything felt so wet and warm and nice and
i remember
i remember opening my eyes and thrusting my hips
up and down
and i could hear mmmming and hummmming
the beautiful sounds sensually
signaling satisfaction
but as nothing was towering above me i picked
my head up and saw her
the party girl
and without removing her lips from my cock
she smiled and went back to work
i remember thinking "i love you party girl"
te voy a casarse

&&SG

"Foreign Girls Rule"

She thought it was great that I hablo español and I thought it was wonderful that she tried to hablar inglés even if she was shitty at it because in situations such as the one we were in not much hablando was necessary except las palabras that led us to la cama y
yo me desperté
y la cosa más graciosa
was that she was the one
out of all the ones I'd had
who I wanted most to stay
and she didn't
ella me dejó sin
información de donde estaría
I saw her on campus a couple of weeks later and confronted her like some weird creepy kind of guy that I was normally not and she gave me that "ay no mames wey" look and turned to meet her other foreign friends
CHINGADA!

&&SG

"Lecturing Bukowski"

I told her to get out
We had drank & fucked
I told her to get out
It was over & there was nothing more
She started screaming
She threatened to burn her arms with a lit cigarette
Mortified, I grabbed her
She told me to let her the fuck go
So I let her go
& she threw herself on my kitchen floor
I was still drunk and I wanted to laugh
But this was no time for levity
So I pulled her up & she smacked me
I was an asshole because I had used her
She started breaking shot glasses &
Telling me I was a bad lay but damn it
Part of me wanted to laugh again
Because I was just happy I didn't have any
China
& when finally she settled down I asked her
If it was possible for her to finally leave &
She got this devious smile on her face
"I'm not fuckin' leavin' 'til you fuckin' apologize"
So I apologized but I didn't mean it
She said "I'm leavin'" & opened my fridge &
Threw all the food onto the floor
& took my last beer
I wasn't getting paid for another week

&&SG

Selections from my forthcoming chapbook of poetry, "AHORA, TENGO QUE IR; ¿TAL VEZ UN DÍA PODEMOS TOMAR UN CAFE? or ¡ADIOS Y GRACIAS POR EL SEXO!"

Hi, Stu González here. I know no one really reads this shit, but I'm like, in the words of Bart Simpson referring to Prinicpal Skinner, a no-giving-up-school guy.

So!

La vida ha estado muy ocupada para mi. ¿Y para ti mismo (a)?

Patrick and I had this idea that I could do, a la Gustavo Arellano, something called "Preguntale a Un Chicano" and I would answer questions from non-chicanos about chicanos. We bounced this thing around like a beach ball until the damn thing flattened. Patrick said it was "derivative, not creative, lame, 'just something to ruminate on'" I thought it was a bad idea because I considered how I might react the first time some pinche puto cavrón asks me why we are "so proud."

Anyway, for the last few months I've been putting together a carefully thought out, thematically cohesive chapbook of poetry. I'm looking for takers. Despite the title, all poems are in Spanish and English.

Ahora, tengo que ir; ¿tal vez un día podemos tomar un café or ¡adios y gracias por el sexo!

... is filled with morning after regrets and rejoices, rallying cries and escape plans.

"Coyote Really Fuckin' Ugly"

i woke up and didn't even have to think.
her face was turned, buried in a pillow, but i knew.
i'd gone and done it again.
i was naked, but luckily my arm was not around her.
i got out of the bed and searched for my clothes.
i heard her snort, cough and shift.
my heart rate rose.
my chest was like the speakers of a sub woofer.
i turned to her.
she was smiling at me.
her teeth were crooked and stained from nicotine.
her hair was stringy, greasy.
"no entiendo ni hablo inglés," i squeaked.
"aww. pablo. my sexy man. don't be silly!"
i didn't even want to think about the fact...
...that she called me pablo... for when she raised the covers and
kicked up her legs, i was blinded by BUSH!
she offered to make coffee.
"claro, claro," i said.
she kissed me on the cheek and in a haze of bed smell...
moved past me and through the door.
hastily, i re-dressed, made sure i had my wallet,
made sure i DIDN'T have the condom that i'd been carrying,
(good on both fronts)
and opened the sliding glass door.
time for pablo to blow this hag haven.

MOTHERFUCKER!

this bitch lives 3 fucking floors from the ground!
so then i had an existential crisis.
"¡piensa, pablo, piensa! ¿para saltar o no?
i looked behind me.
coast clear.
but suddenly, i heard a "psst." from above.
"young man! i don't mean to pry, but... coyote ugly or forced marriage?"
"coyote ugly, señor."
"ah, well... forced marriage here. 15 years. look at it this way, you could be on my floor."
&&& S.G.

"La Novia que no Sabe Nada"
"The Girlfriend that Knows Nothing"

For the first time in my life
I had two girls at once
For the first time in my life
My girlfriend wasn't one of them
For the first time in my life
I had breakfast not at Denny's
but on my own gas stove
buttered tortillas
como mi mamá siempre las preparó.

For the first time in my life
I was alone and everything felt good
For the first time in my life
When my girlfriend came home
she suspected nothing
she usually suspects everything
because I'm out eating Denny's
after a binge with my friends.

Ay, she knows nothing!
&&& S.G.

"Friends, Brothers, Their Sisters, My Lovers"

--for posterity, may they learn all the lessons i had to, in every conceivable way--

one night i promised my buddy that i'd never hit on his sister.
his hot sister.
of legal age.
and one night while drinking and smoking and talking
we were sitting inches apart
and she confessed that
she liked smoking and sex and tattoos.
oh really?
¿en serio?
well then.
i showed her my tattoo of Raquel Welch
"did you know that she's a latina?"
"yes. very beautiful."
"indeed."

she noted that i have a reputation.
curious.
for what?
"well. showing off your tattoo of Raquel Welch..."
there was an and.
i knew.
"...and fucking my friends' sisters?"
"yes."

soon after we were kissing and petting
O, ROMANCE!
O sweaty, drunken, sloppy romance!
we had each other on the couch then on the floor
and for a few hours more
we talked and smoked and then she got a wild idea.

we got matching tats.
mine said, "i fucked your sister."
hers said, "i fucked your friend."

the next day, her brother, my friend, we sat and talked
for what seemed a time without end,
and he couldn't believe i'd do it to him.

haha haha haha

didn't you know, that nothing is sacred?

BUT.

"in my defense, i never hit on her."
&&& S.G.

"It all started with a conversation about Warren Zevon"

It all started with a conversation about Warren Zevon.
Me, a studious but hard drinking pupil of rock & fuckin' roll,
Her, a cocktail waitress/queen in need of a king,
By the time we realized that our collective shit was fucked up,
We decided that sleep could only come once we were dead,
Or after a night of raging hard-ons satiated by much needed friction,

Then we went to her place, had drinks, listened to some records,
And when I went to kiss her, she was not a whore nor slut,
But a beautiful queen,
Stuck in a rut,
Tut tut tut,
This is a caprice, and sex is a many splendored thing,
She said, "I guess" and we continued to drink and drink and drink,
And the vodka was screaming, I couldn't think,
Were we listening to the Dolls or Rundgren?
Was I Sid Vicious and she Nancy Spungen?

We rode one another into the morning,
And when I woke up and smoked the last cig,
And thought a final thought,
I dedicated it to Zevon, the man who made it all possible,
To fuck and flee and never get caught!

&&& S.G.

(2009)

Reruns, Syndication & Reiteration

"Find Chubby Art Chicks"




"If, after I depart this vale, you ever remember me and have thought to please my ghost, forgive some sinner, and wink your eye at some homely girl." -- H.L. Mencken's epitaph



I sing the body articulate looking for love (?) for pseudointellectual banter (?) for companionship obsessed (?) find chubby art chicks beautiful women all shapes all sizes find artistic expression in fishnets and skirts no black no black but sort of intriguing not quite interesting it's art the body articulate finds the body inanimate looking for ideal when they could be searching the shapely illogic of the pseudointellect find chubby art chicks find love find banter find yourself without going to California.
 
(2008)
 
Heaven 1997


I stood outside the club, dark, the rain splashing in puddles around me; the only thing keeping me dry a canopy and a thin, miserable excuse for a jacket. I could feel the vibrations of music from inside. All I really wanted was a cigarette to go with my cup of whiskey. I noticed that not too many women come to shows like this, and when they do, there's usually a boyfriend-- or male approximation of-- not too far ahead (or in some cases, in tow). I sipped thoughtfully, hoping, surprisingly enough, that some tobacco carrying soul might approach for a round of small talk. This never happened.

I considered leaving the fucking place. Taking my cup and never looking back. I don't like music anyway. At least not that shit. And those people! Those fucking people with their band shirts and their clove cigarettes and their stupid dances. FUCK THEM.
 
So I leave. Just. Walk away. It's better this way.
 
(2008)
 
Es un "cliché"
sino tus labios
son como
el sabor
de vino tinto
y tus ojos
son como
"limpid pools"
así que
en los desaparezco
sin aliento
me ahogo

...bueno,
ahorita estoy pensando
que
si nado para seguridad
dejarás la lluvia de tus emociones
y no me matarás
como le hiciste a tu papá

but anyway

Olvídate esos tonterías

Soy cómico.
 
(2009)
 

"Buying condoms in the grocery store."



I shit you not, I was in the express lane at Kroger with a couple bottles of PLONK and a big box of condoms, and the old lady behind me smiled and winked. I winked back and put my arm around her. The burly black guy behind the counter goggled at me. "Yeah, man," I said. "I'm not ashamed. I like a bit of mature."

(2009)


"Kissing"


Kissing is only great when drunk with desire or drunk with booze. Anything else is mauvaise foi.
 
(2009)
 
Day 9. Sex.


I called you from a payphone outside your boyfriend's apartment complex. See, lucky for me, before I did my laundry that day, I felt through the pockets of my favorite jeans. The wadded up piece of cocktail napkin. Your name in all caps and your number beneath.

MELINDA.

832-XXX-XXXX

You answered and asked where I was calling from. An undisclosed location, I said. You chuckled and told me that it was a weird number for a cell phone. I forgot to pay my cell phone bill, I answered.

"Melinda," I said, "I think that you're the most beautiful woman in existence. How does dinner under the stars followed by sex sound to you?"

You hung up.

Fucking call girls.
 
(2007)

All writings and photos by Patrick Patterson-Carroll