Steve Pacheco

"That Guy Can't Sing"

2009-05-24T17:20:00.002-05:00

I'm at home listening to music. Bob Dylan blares from the speakers. My daughter turns it off and says, "That guy can't sing, Daddy."

poetica

2009-05-14T13:21:00.002-05:00

check out the book bone light. props to orlando white.

ya dig?

2009-05-13T16:35:00.001-05:00

currently reading, currently listening, currently watching, respectfully

2009-05-05T20:53:00.002-05:00

Madras on Rainy Days by Samina Ali

L.A. Woman by The Doors

Black & White directed by James Toback

Elk Soldier has a new CD

2009-05-03T00:38:00.002-05:00

A big hoka hey for Elk Soldier. They have a new CD out called The Elk Dreamers. Check it out. And if you haven't heard their other CDs, The Elk Way & A Soldier's Dream, make sure to track them down. aho!

two topics for tonight

2009-05-02T19:17:00.000-05:00

1. It's fight night!!! Manny Pacquiao vs. Ricky Hatton. I'm about to pop some popcorn and enjoy. I absolutely love the sweet science.

2. Birds birds birds. At my feeder today: Cardinal, Cedar Waxwing, House Wren, Black Capped Chickadee, Nuthatch, red headed woodpecker. Joy joy joy.

Random Memory

2009-04-15T15:38:00.001-05:00

Me: In high school (parenthetical thought: teenage angst, acne, clumsy and awkward all come to mind but this isn’t a memory about those word associations. Though I may want to address them later on in our discussion. Probably not.) and our gym class takes a field trip to a bowling alley. A big clock on a dingy wall overlooks the lanes. It slowly ticks eating our time away. Science class looms.

Then, a thought. One thought. One teenaged, testosteroned thought. Jump up and move the clock-hand back five minutes!

But could I? Could I take the chance at a scolding (our gym teacher was, if anything at all, intimidating)? Could I risk detention? I could. And I did. I leaped up and pushed the big hand back five. Five more minutes of thunder as balls crashed into pins. Five more minutes of the sound of shoes sliding across grains of wood. Five minutes less of science. And I never got caught.

life imitates art imitates life

2009-03-27T08:19:00.000-05:00

Here's a recreation through the mind of a six year old. It's a lego toilet scene...

On Doing the Doodle & Thumb Twiddle

2009-03-16T08:12:00.000-05:00

The mundane madness continues. I get to head north for a 3 (yes, 3 !!!) day conference this week. So much time to space out. So much time to hurry up & wait. I feel like doing the Pocahontas swan dive off a cliff...

awake!!!

2009-03-08T23:23:00.000-05:00

Winter slumber is over--and I have but one question: What is the What?. It's what I'm reading.

Anyone see this yet??

2008-12-24T01:30:00.000-06:00

Props to iktomi films!!!

updater

2008-11-14T19:35:00.000-06:00

The temperature out here on the prairie has been steadily falling. We've had our first snow, and for that I am thankful. People I know from other parts of the country think I'm crazy for living in Minnesota. Or think it's nuts that I actually prefer winter over all other seasons. Don't get me wrong. When the grass fades from brown to green I'm thankful. When the sun sets in the heart of the July I am humbled. When the days shorten in October I take time to pray. Yet this is MY time of year. This is when I feel most at home.

We're getting close to Halloween

2008-10-12T00:08:00.000-05:00

Let's do the time warp again...

Rabbits & Roger Miller

2008-10-09T21:42:00.000-05:00

Greetings from the White Earth Rez in northern Minnesota. Not a lot of rabbits running around up here. Wonder why, naye. Anyways, I'm a good five hour drive from home. And in the hotel it's lonely. And in the Casino it's smokey. And I want to get in my car and drive farther. And I'm a man of means by no means. Kiiing of the roooooooooaaad....

well, well

2008-10-05T12:43:00.000-05:00

Here's a direct quote from my blog from way back in June of 2007-- "Read in this order-- 1. Blindness 2. Seeing 3. The Cave. Then read Plato's allegory. It's an awesome experience."

I was talking about Jose Saramago (what an outstanding writer!!!). It appears that there is now a movie made from the book "Blindness". I so want to see it, yet I so don't want to see it. Hence my question to you: Has there ever been a movie made that equals the book it derives from???

my world

2008-10-01T21:50:00.000-05:00

Compelled

2008-09-19T23:34:00.000-05:00

So, it's late, I'm alone in a dimly lit room and I'm listening to Smokey Robinson. His voice, his rhythm, his melody is grabbing me by the collar. Damn.

Wopida Tanka to Gwen Griffin

2008-09-18T19:23:00.000-05:00

A big huge thanks to Professor Gwen Griffin for letting me visit her class, her kind words, and for coming to the reading. Her work can be found in the Yellow Medicine Review among other places.

Seek. Her. Words.

Been a Minute

2008-09-12T21:59:00.000-05:00

I haven't visited in a good while, but honestly, I'm not a technically savvy sav. My computer has been buggin'. Anyway, go to Mankato on Thursday. I gots a reading and book singing...

I've cried so much

2008-07-01T01:48:00.000-05:00

I can't list every country singer that's given me the "crying jags," but heres a few...

Patsy Cline
George Jones
Hank Williams jr & sr
Conway Twitty ( Hello Darlin')
Waylon
Willie (Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain)
Loretta
Tammy Wynette
Merle
Randy Travis ( On the Other Hand)
Freddy Fender
George Straight

Touchdown!!!

2008-06-02T10:15:00.000-05:00

no not football, but as in airplane. my airplane. i'm going to post some notebook entries from california. peace.

dumping the notebook

2008-05-30T16:04:00.000-05:00

a few entries from my notebook.

05/23/2008--Went golfing today. Funny how something so elitist as golf can become an obsession for me. I do feel kind of awkward on the golf course, or maybe self-concesoius is a better term. It's not that I may swing and miss the ball( though I have in the past), more like when I'm there I belong to this macho fraternity, but everyone else around me understands some inside joke I'm not privy to.

05/25/2008--Had a visitor come this weekend from Mpls. We sat outside and cooked out. We sat around the fire most of the night staring at the flames licking the top of the fire pit. He remarked how life seems slow out here. Slow and quiet. He said he likes coming out this way because it's relaxing. I'm going to be honest, I've never thought of my home in that way.

05/26/2008--The graves are cleaned and flowers now adorn the headstones. I didn't weep this year and I don't know how to feel about that... I know it's someone's birthday today, but I can't figure out who... I'm not real sure what memorial day means. Is it a time to picnic, a time to honor fallen vets, honor dead family, or something else?

addendum: check out the poem "decoration day" by adrian louis

Dutch Oven, or an ode to love lost

2008-05-21T14:28:00.000-05:00

* A "dutch oven" is the act of farting whilst in bed & under the blankets, followed by covering your significant other's head with the blanket. This procedure is sometimes referred to as a "covered wagon."

I remember the first time we were so intimate
and comfortable with our love
you weren't too embarrassed
after you belched from chugging beer.

Later that night, I decided to pass gas in bed
to give us something to share. A light moment before love.
Foreplay.

I learned your smells so well. I inhaled your dirty shirts
just before I loaded the wash; I kept your hair tie in my pocket
to breathe in the privacy of a public bathroom stall.

Today, I thought I saw you on the city bus, sporting shades,
and a new hair style. I sat in the row behind, hoping
for one quick whiff.

It wasn't you, darling.
And now
your burps and farts are what I miss.

nineteen hundred eighty two (anno domini)

2008-05-17T21:52:00.000-05:00

On the Current Weather Situation & Grits

2008-05-13T22:59:00.000-05:00

This is where I’m supposed to speak on the sacredness of rain and all its life bearing qualities; this is where I’m supposed to speak on scientific terms about photosynthesis; this is where I’m supposed to praise Mother Nature and be one with earth, sky, moon, and sun; this is where I rapture the natural cycles of life, and give thanks to the seasons, but my roof is leaking and the mosquitoes are biting my legs.

O muse of the Waffle House, sing to me a melody of trucker hats and saw mill gravy. Sing to me a melody of interstate highways segregated by tall southern pines. Let the bass rhythm bellow from blown tires. Allow the damp air to settle over my body like sweat. Muse, I miss your southern drawl, your sweet tea. Give me a hitchhiker’s chance to hear you again.

why sure, an update

2008-04-24T21:53:00.000-05:00

Reading: Wallace Stevens & James Wright

Listening: Cornbread Harris

Watching: No Country for Old Men. Take Home Chef

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!

2008-04-16T20:16:00.000-05:00

Shedding Skins

The Bear Awakens

2008-03-20T09:16:00.001-05:00

Winter hibernation is almost over. But the real question is: what does spring mean to you?

Notebook Entry #32A

2007-10-08T16:47:00.001-05:00

• If I were to describe my family history, I would say that it is dysfunctional intertwined with unconditional love. Which is to say that I, too, am dysfunctional intertwined with unconditional love. That love is both love I get and love I give. But I don't feel sorry for my family. I feel grateful. Grateful for the ones who wouldn't let me follow the paths of dead friends and dead family.
• I've often debated whether or not people are a product of their environment, and I'm no smarter on the subject now than I've ever been. What I do know is that the methed-out, the cracked-out, people of my adulthood could've--no, should've--been much more. As children we played sports together, went to the same schools, ate food at each other's table, and now, we merely wave (sometimes) as we pass by.
• Some people have a resiliency about them that will not allow failure. Is it ingrained into a person's makeup, like DNA dictates the color of your eyes and hair? I see glimpses of brilliance in many native youth. Yet too often I pretend to look the other way.

HAPPY OCTOBER!!!!!!!

2007-10-06T02:36:00.000-05:00

whatever happened to fay wray??

THE

2007-09-11T21:26:00.000-05:00

So, I was all lost and shit in California. Trying my hardest not to look like the geeky midwest tourist, I asked the chick at the gas station how to head north out of town. She says, take "the" 86 and then take "the" 5. The. Why don't people in my language world use "The" when talking about roads? Have the roads in Cali been knighted? Are they sired with proper titles? Why does an article of speech make me feel alone, searching for friends?

meeting with a poet in oldtown san diego

2007-08-21T17:53:00.000-05:00

I was thinking "Mission Hills" when I turned into the district of old town. The smell of tortilla masa poked me chest and said, hey man, you are far from home.

But I wasn't.

I was meeting a poet cat I know, and he was reading Octavio's Eagle or Sun?

We talked the talk. What's the name of that po-daddy poem you wrote back when? And fucking politics (or was it politiks?). Did you hear what happened to so and so. Yeah, poetry is a real drag right now. No, I can't remember the last time I bought a book of verse? Did that poem ever get published? Hell no.

And we drank the drank. Water's always good for starters, but Modelo is always good for finishers.

And we parted ways. Me, up the coast of cars. Him, on the city bus.

32 suckas

2007-07-24T04:19:00.001-05:00

In Lieu of the "Happy Birthday Song"--

All my rowdy friends have settled down
and they seem to be more in to laid back songs
Nobody wants to get drunk and get loud
everybody just wants to go back home

I myself, have seen my wilder days
and I have seen my name at the top of the page
but I need to find a friend just to run around
but nobody wants to get high on the town
and all my rowdy friends have settled down

and I think I know what my father meant when he sang about a Lost Highway
and ole George Jones, I'm glad to see
is finally getting straight
and Waylon's staying home
and loving Jesse more these days
and nobody wants to get drunk and get loud
and all my rowdy friends have settled down

and hangovers hurt more than they used to
and cornbread and iced tea's took the place of pills
and ninety proof and it seems like none of us do
things quite like we used to do
and nobody wants to get high on the town
and all my rowdy friends have settled down

Yeah, I think I know what my father meant
when he sang about a Lost Highway
and Johnny Cash don't act like he did back in 68
and Kris, he is a movie star and he's moved off to L. A.
and nobody wants to get drunk and get loud
and all my rowdy friends have settled down
Yeah, me and my rowdy friends done rowdied on down.

Going Back to Cali

2007-07-08T14:35:00.000-05:00

California bound in August. Maybe I'll become a movie star...

time to unplug

2007-07-06T16:57:00.000-05:00

I'm starting to think that art has come to an end. Or to put it another way: What happens when people have extracted all the creativity from itself? Why is it that more and more movies are being remade? What happens when art becomes consciences of its own form?

I ask these questions coming off a 3-day barrage of cover tunes, and previews about the newly made movies--adaptations--of older films. Everything seems bland, done before, jaded. We're spoon-fed mindless dialogues. Or to put it another way: I'm turning off the fucking cable.

Jose Saramago

2007-06-27T13:32:00.000-05:00

Over the past few months I've been grooving on books by Saramago and Ha Jin. The books by Jin engage the reader with crisp crisp characters. Saramago's books have captivated me with allegory, political/social commentary, rhythm, and form. The narrative keeps the pages turning. For all its outstanding technical aspects, Saramago also reveals something about human actions and what we're capable of--both good and bad.

Read in this order-- 1. Blindness 2. Seeing 3. The Cave. Then read Plato's allegory. It's an awesome experience.

Aging Addendum

2007-06-25T10:44:00.000-05:00

So, I've written about the time when the verb "google" entered my daughter's vernacular. Now, this past weekend, I went to a mall for the first time in a long time. I'm not fond of mall culture. The pretty girls and the prettier boys remind me of my lack of fashion fusion.

And let me say this: I turn 32 in less than a month.

I feel much older, perhaps, because I work with youth. It's interesting, you know, to compare my teenage years with the actions of today's youth.

But back to the story. I went in foot locker. I loved this store when I was sixteen, and that's probably one of the last times I was in there. It's difficult to describe what I was thinking in the midst of rambunctious kids, baggy pants, sports jerseys, and rap music.

I guess there's no other way of saying it, I felt old. I felt disconnected from popular culture. I became "them." I became "they."

Piggy

2007-06-02T21:52:00.000-05:00

Eating ribs and contemplating.

Updating

2007-05-19T22:22:00.000-05:00

Not too much to report on these days. Spent some time over at Tinta Wita (Prairie Island). I am truely blessed. Life is slow as of now, just the way I like it.

...

2007-05-07T16:49:00.000-05:00

Music played at my birth
from ghetto blasters. Cassette tapes
eaten alive at my first good cry.

More of me

2007-04-28T23:24:00.000-05:00

On the bookshelf. Reading/rereading: Post Office--Bukowski; The White Album--Didion; Haunted--Palahniuk.

On the iPod. Listening to: Bob Marley; The Doors; Gwen Stefani.

At the Movie. Watching: Chuck and Buck. Pulp Fiction.

WACIPI CANKU!!!!!!

2007-04-24T19:48:00.000-05:00

Spring Rain

2007-04-23T09:35:00.000-05:00

Green lawn. Tall grass. Budding trees.

Homeward

2007-04-13T10:00:00.000-05:00

Leaving the land of the rabbit-chokers today. Heading back to the prairie. Dakota home, here I come.

Just Because

2007-04-10T11:33:00.000-05:00

Books: Blindness by Jose Saramago. The Bride-groom by Ha Jin

Movies: Havoc. Y Tu Mama Tambien. Sleep with Me.

Music: Elk Whistle. Elvis Presley. Hank Williams Jr.

Verbatim

2007-04-08T09:23:00.000-05:00

Call language alive. Most of the time I listen to other people's conversations and look for ways the language gives us a moment of irony, or pure pleasure. The other day I was sitting in the den while my eight year old daughter was talking about a show on TV and the fact that a live show would be performed in the cities. Usually my daughter's discussions on nickelodeon or don't interest me. However, something in this exchange caused deeper reflection.

My daughter's friend asked how she learned about the show. My daughter replied, " I googled it."

The term google was not in my childhood vocabulary. It certainly wasn't a verb. Somehow, it's evolved from technology and our daily habits. Admittedly, I google things all the time. But where does the language grow from? It could be a marker in aging, to hear new words used in new ways. It is quite enjoyable

Hubris at Easter

2007-04-07T18:13:00.000-05:00

How God-like am I when I create a spring snowstorm as I watch the salt cover my hardboiled egg.

True Story

2007-04-02T22:38:00.000-05:00

If I recall it correctly, Franz Fannon said something to the effects that police were armed guards of the bourgeois. I know of several stories dealing with police and their treatment of native people. In Minneapolis, the MPD is notorious for their rides down to the river. Some time ago police were caught with two native men in the trunk of their squad car. When my uncle got picked up and sent downtown, he would pretend to pass out on the way to booking because the police liked to take jabs at him in the elevator.

I personally have not dealt with the MPD a lot. When I was a teenager, an officer told me that I was a piece of shit and that's all I would ever be. Yet, the story that I think about more often occurred years later, when, I was at a house party on Franklin Avenue behind the Indian Center. A bunch of skins were playing cards and listening to music in a fenced-in back yard. There were no disturbances, no fights. I would describe it as a small gathering of a family with a few friends.

As the night went on, people were having a good time. I was near a card game, though I don't think I was playing. Some people at the party started a small commotion, which I thought was going to be a fight. A few women came running out of the the house coughing and gaging. I wasn't sure what to think, or I wasn't thinking anything. I just remember a burning sensation come over my eyes and throat. I couldn't breathe without hacking violently, and people around me were doing the same. My cousin grabbed me from behind and tried to use my shirt to wipe out his eyes.

As party goers walked toward the front of the house to get away, blurry light flashed in front of me. It was the MPD laughing at the scene they created by tossing cans of mace into the yard and house. One of my other cousins, who I met up with in front of the house was sneezing and shooting snot out of his nose. A cop said to him, "What's the matter? You got a cold?" He chuckled and walked away.

The owner of the house came out screaming and yelling at the cops, letting them know that a pregnant woman was living in the home. All the cops went back to their squads and took off. No arrests. No citations. Some of the cops hid their badges so people couldn't get the number.

Was it an act of racism? I want to say that one of the cops was asian. Or was it an act of socialism taking place in a primarily indian neighborhood, with plenty of poor people? I'm not sure what it was, but I do know that it's not an isolated incident.

Birds

2007-04-01T22:48:00.000-05:00

For the last three days it's been raining in Minnesota. Today the rain finally gave way to heavy winds. It was as if the winds had brought flocks of birds. On a small tree in the back of my house, I saw robins, house finches, gray juncos, and the common cackle. The most striking bird of the bunch was the cedar waxwing. It's an awsome bird with hints of green-grey. Its face is black like a cardinal. The tips of the tailfeathers are a bright golden yellow, which contrasted wonderfully against the drab sky and brown trees.

about face

2007-03-10T13:49:00.001-06:00

recovery is found in all that I've seen and heard. life, my friends, life

(Chrono) Logical

2006-10-17T23:18:00.000-05:00

I woke up at 5:55 in the a.m. Rubbed my eyes open and walked down the stairs to the kitchen.
Had me a gooood cup of joe, java, mud, coffee
7:30 in the a.m.: Went to work. Fuck.
4:00 in the p.m. got home from work.
Still reading the greeks in the evening.
Sun went down. Cold, cold. Blanket, blanket. Fire, fire.
Right now @ 11:30 Lower Sioux Standard time: leaning back in a chair. Quietness, except the northernly wind.

What Tha??!!??!

2006-10-16T00:36:00.000-05:00

I received an email from someone that wanted to know about the death rituals of Native American people. Didn't quite know how to respond, but I tried my best to sound authentic.ha. Of course, I gave a bunch of bullshit. I hope it doesn't get published in some famous ph.d. thesis becasue someone will dig it up when I run for tribal president and use it as slander. yeah right.

Yup

2006-10-05T22:43:00.000-05:00

Life on the rez is crazy. I've seen so many come and go, and I'm not talking about people who've died.

10/05/2006

One Room Vigil

2006-09-19T21:54:00.000-05:00

I stick out my thumbs/ and they are candles.

Yannis Ritsos

2006-09-11T23:27:00.000-05:00

The End of Dodona II

With the gods overthrown like that, nobody knew which way to
turn.
The sick stayed in bed with their eyes closed.
Their woolen socks rotted away in their shoes, along with two
flowers in a glass.
The cunning ones adjusted quickly. They put on their best clothes
again,
circulated in the marketplace, discussed things, did business. They
undertook
the defense against the invader. They changed the names of streets
and temples: improvised substitutions. Zues and Dione
gave way to Jesus and the Virgin. Theodosius
added the finishing touches--what altars and sanctuaries, and
that huge tree
overwhelmed by votive offerings.
And still
a number of people(including the best) haven't yet come to their
senses. They're waiting once again
for better gods and people. They fume, protest,
dream, hope. We, the few(who, to some degree anyway, use their
heads),
we've given up such luxuries, given up thinking itself.
We plow our small plot of land, look at clouds once in a
while,
calm now, almost secure. One day we found, thrown into a ditch,
that statuette that used to strink metal tools with its wand
and give out prophetic sounds. For a moment that moved us. We
said
we'd set it aside for safekeeping somewhere. But what's the point?
Are we supposed to cling to relics these days?
And what if they dug it up on us? We left it there. Covered it with
two handfuls of dirt.
The dog was in a hurry. It smelled the trees. Large raindrops were
already falling.

--Yannis Ritsos

Four thoughts on September

2006-09-10T22:33:00.000-05:00

In Minnesota it's cold. The weekends are gone too quick, like the daylight hours dissapearing into winter. Inward. A good time to recluse. Meditate.
I've pulled books off the shelf. I've listened to music. I've listened to stories. I've done all I can.
Sometimes I wonder about certain people. People I haven't heard from or seen in years. Do they wonder like I do? Have they made a connection somewhere? I've left home before only to come back exiled.
Delay. Suspend. Hesitate. The piano sounds grand.

Birch Coulee

2006-09-03T11:35:00.000-05:00

Back in 1995 an event was put on called the gathering of kinship. It was a run from Mankato to Birch Coulee to commerate the 38 Dakota hanged in 1862--the largest mass execution in U.S. history to this day. At Birch Coulee, people waited for the runners and a 4-day wacipi took place.

I was one of the runners to make the 65 mile relay run along the Minnesota River. This weekend is the 11th annual wacipi. This year there's about 30 dancers and 3 drums. Small traditional wacipi with a lot of specials and memorials.

Images: Minneapolis Redux

2006-08-30T01:01:00.000-05:00

Benches anchored in cement.

The light/ rail/ busses
move common folk
from job to job.

The poet at the café
wears a blue beret.

The university’s ivy
walls and avenues where
my natives play deadly.

Three Thoughts

2006-08-28T23:17:00.000-05:00

Indigenous Activism

Indigenous: adj: produced, growing, or living naturally in a particular region

Activism: n: a doctorine or practice that emphasizes vigorous action for political ends

_______________________

The last picture of my uncle

Black cowboy hat ( a cowboy indian), shades, and ponytail. Guitar (he was a lefty) and a leather shoulder strap that said: kute'.

_______________________

One line written on the brink of insanity:

In one year I'll walk the hardscape of the city. Anonymous and alone.

HOY! HOY!

2006-08-23T21:46:00.000-05:00

And so here I am. I've done traveled and now back to work. Fuck. I should live a life of possessionessless. Yow. Anyway, autumn time blues, yet I love winter with all my Dakota heart. I've lost touch with so many people. Isolation. Isolato.

Epiphany: Insomnia leads me to genuflect at the orange morning sky.

Current Reads: "Disgrace" J.M. Coetzee; "Mama Day" Gloria Naylor; "The Way of Ignorance" Wendell Berry; "Essays in Existentalism" Jean Paul Satre; "Culture and Imperialism" Edward Said.

Powwow Time!

2006-07-10T02:02:00.000-05:00

I can't wait to get back on the trail. I took a couple weekends off to reenergize. Besides, gas prices are crazy! I'm heading to Flandreau for next weekend, and then off to Sioux Valley, Manitoba. Should be a good ending to the month of July.

Current Flix: Clay Pigeions; Do the Right Thing; Troy; Stryker.

July 4

2006-07-05T01:20:00.000-05:00

The fireworks sound like the reverb of cannon fire in the valley.--Independence Day 2006.

Current Words: Symbiosis; Congeal; Miscible.

Current Sounds: " You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it." Dylan

The Ides of Summer

2006-07-04T01:22:00.000-05:00

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been on the road hitting up some wacipi action. Our powwow here at cansayapi was a. o. waste’. It rained and was windy, but if a good thing is going to happen it’s going to happen. Kind of like what Iya said, “ If you don’t like the weather go and tell tunkasida it’s wrong.” Ha.

I got full on some frybread. Shook hands with lots of kin. It works out well. The wacipi here starts my summer, and the wacipi here just up the road at Birch Coulee in September ends my summer.

The week after I was on the road again to santeetown for another cho time. It rained again, but if a good thing is going to happen it’s going to happen. Ha. Kicked back with family. Good songs and good feelings. I’m on the Dakota circuit. Going to hit up Canada, SD, and of course Dakota dances 'round bde’sota.

Current Sounds: Lil' Otter; Talking Heads; Nirvana; Bad Nation; Neil Diamond. ohha.

?

2006-07-03T00:29:00.000-05:00

The back of my neck is sun-beaten
from the lack of hair on my head.

Current Reads: "Pedagogy of the Oppressed" Paulo Frerrie; "Magic City" Yousef Komunyakka; "Reinventing the Enemy's Language" Anthology.

2006-07-02T21:47:00.000-05:00