July 4th 2018

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In my dark garage, mosquitos zooming in and out, my body reacts.

Mexican beer in hand, my mind gets busy.

Whatsup app is on, and the world opens.

Communication at my fingers can’t keep up with my mind, my friends and stupid cell phone.

Well, ideas and thoughts do come together and conversations are established.

But the best of this 4th of July is that K is back.

Thank you for being back north.



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I share my mind

But inmediately gets twisted.

I know what I want.

It’s a destiny.

Maple Leaf

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Green, yellow, red or brown

It doesn’t matter

The fall will always be.

Your eyes and memories fall the same rithm

It’s there like a thorn in the heart

It hurts, but it brings smiles

And it makes me happy.

In the north, maple leaves are more red.

The red hot lives in my mind even in the summer.

It is what it is!

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I like to be alone, but yet I miss my company.

I miss my routine, my timing, my dinner.

How was your day or what is your recipe for dinner?

It’s been a while, but it sure defines you.

Unique and consistant is your cult.

It defines you and I like it.


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It feels good

Music in my ears and soul

Resonates  like electricity in my brain.

My heart sinks in.

Like a pulse in rithm.

Like a spear head in my heart.

It feels like flames in my soul.

I love it, like my life in fire.

Like my hearings to melody.

Off work, April 26

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Don’t know where to start.

Snow blower is in the shed.

Lawn mower is out.

My 1977 stereo is on.

89.2 The Current plays its thing.

New music, new rock or new nice?

It’s 11:00 p.m. I’m still up.

It must be good.

I love It!

I stay and sit on my 1950 couch!

The Current lives, next stop, Big Childs. Dives.

Coatepeque City, ES

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First of all, I do not know where or how to start. It is taking me a little time as I type to let my fingers guide my thoughts. I will start that I know for sure that Coatepeque City, in the Department of Santa Ana, El Salvador, Central America, is the first, probably the closest to my heart, location tied to my autobiography. I was born in this Pueblo, and lived in it until I was 17 years old. It is nostalgic to think that I went to pre-school, elementary, and two years of high school there. In many ways, my heart is still there, and almost every day since the civil war was over in 1992, I day dream of returning. I miss the mountains, the volcanic landscape, the smell of coffee flowers in the spring, the day of the dead in November 2nd, the torrential down pours, and much more.

Coatepeque plays a very big role in my life. It made me “YO”. We were in Jr. high school before the war; we, the students, were an instrumental part of protesting against the injustice from the dictator regime. It was the city where I was introduced to classic rock. I clearly heard the Eagles, Boston, and Fleetwood Mac under the tropical rain, and the earth shaking thunder under my feet.

The contributions for my education were implanted deeply in my soul in Coatepeque City. They were through life experiences such protesting, strikes, and take overs of school, churches and factories. I learned that people must confront injustice together.

One of the qualities I miss is the simplicity of daily life in my old town, the closeness and the camaraderie of the neighbors, and the silence of late nights. Even with all these, civil war broke out in 1979, and we were forced to flee for our lives.

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