12/8/2007 11:03:00 PM

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Angry parents gather outside Roswell High School Friday to protest the deportation of Karina Acosta, a pregnant 18-year-old, to Mexico by U.S. immigration officials Thursday. (Daily Record/Mark Wilson) RHS senior deported; parents concerned Richard Jacques Staff Writer U.S. immigration officials deported a pregnant Roswell High School senior after she was pulled from class Wednesday by a local police officer regarding a traffic ticket issued days before. According to Roswell Police Chief John Balderston, Karina Acosta, 18, was given several days to provide proper identification after being cited for a parking violation and driving without a license on Nov. 29 but failed to do so. RHS Student Resource Officer Charlie Corn, a 10-year RPD veteran, removed Acosta from class Dec. 5 regarding the traffic violation and detained her at the school before notifying U.S. immigration officials of her illegal status, according to Balderston. Acosta, who is five months pregnant, was transported to the Chaves County Detention Center, put on hold by the INS and later deported to Mexico, according to Balderston. "In the course of an investigation, if we determine that someone is not here legally, we will contact INS and tell them what their status is," he said. Worried about the deportation of the girl and the future security of other illegal immigrant students at RHS, Acosta's mother and nearly 50 members of the Hispanic community gathered at the RHS Little Theater, and later the Roswell Police Department, to voice their concerns. "The kids are scared now because this thing happened, so we need your help," said Maria Rodriguez to Balderston during a meeting in an RPD conference room Friday afternoon. At the meeting, Balderston listened to complaints about Corn, including allegations he targets Hispanics. Balderston agreed to meet further with representatives from the Hispanic community and Corn in an effort to ease relations and eliminate any problems or misconceptions that might exist. "If you don't trust us then we need to do some more work here," said Balderston, who will retire Jan. 4. Roswell Independent School District Assistant Superintendent Mike Kakuska said the RISD has officially protested Acosta's arrest with the INS and the Mexican Consulate. "We are very, very concerned as a public school as to what happened the other day," said Kakuska, addressing a group of about 50 parents who gathered at RHS Friday morning. "The police officer, without our knowledge, had this young lady brought into his office here at school and the detain orders were issued through him, not the Roswell schools." In the lengthy open meeting that lasted more than one hour, Kakuska and other school officials, including RHS Principal Brian Shea, answered questions and notified those in attendance that Corn has been removed as an SRO. "The Roswell Independent School system did not support the decision of this officer to have this young lady arrested," said Kakuska. In a joint decision by the RPD and RISD, all SROs have been removed from RISD schools. Both Balderston and Kakuska maintain that despite the incident, no contention exists between the RISD and the RPD. "We're going to work through this and I wish I can say that it's not going to happen again, but I can't. The officers are going to enforce the law," said Balderston. School officials said Acosta was on course to graduate in the spring.

The year of Anniversary Galore.

August 3, 2007

It's been five years since I romanced a telephone pole. Rolling any which way...in the morning darkness. Overworked. Underpaid. Surprise surprise. Caring more about other people than paying attention to my own sluggishness. And working for dickhead city council gentrifiers on top of it...

Five years since I woke up at County Hospital...I still think of D.B coming in telling me how the wheelchairs had to have been from the Civil War era. "I have to get you two the fuck out of here!" I begged her not to make me laugh. People with broken collarbones and ribs and lacerations shouldn't laugh. It hurts too much. We just wallow.

If scars are to remember...if scars are gifts, some might say,write,scream... mine would be impossible to forget anyway...it still pulses numbness in me...it still itches I think? Even when I put onion skin ointment on it. And sometimes, it's my "game" with the weirdos and freaks. How many times has it been mentioned before someone swooped in for a kiss that they "liked it, thought it was hot or it made me seem um...different....". Hmmm....

And I still detest being behind the wheel. Maybe more than ever. I hopped behind KLB's wheels this week to keep the car running while he was at the Yellow Market getting some Parliaments feeling instant nausea and paranoia. Only I am not like Jimmy Stewart's character in Vertigo...is that Jimmy Stewart?

Hmmm....I don't feel invested in romantic love, lust or limmerence right now....truth maybe?

I could change my mind though in five minutes. It's hard to say. Six nights, yes. Two nights, no. Meaning one week six nights of lust, two love then one romantic and then the rest limmerence infinity.

Regardless, definitely not driving.

I wonder about so many things from that night and think how could they be so irrelevent now...
I wonder about the way in which histories replicate themselves in my life and those around me. Patterns of death, love, birth, chisme, sex, imagined and real success etc. What else?

How can S.S and I be so distant? How can things that matter more than your life one second rule the town and disappear five years later? It's like a ghostown over here inside me of deserted lovers, tumbleweeds and sex toys blowing all over the place. I think of M.M saying "I wanna be like a fuckin' tornado in everyone's life. Like that fire in Yellowstone...". Am I like that? I hope not but sometimes these things seem out of control. I may not be a hurricane or a tornado but I am definitely not a wifey type either. And is there any wifey that is a wifey type? I think not.

Life is wild like that. Neither one us care. After all, I was warned but I didn't truly believe. "Soulmates" one second, strangers with scars the next. What else is there?

Sometimes you barely walk away from the scene of a crime....with little more than a scar, a shred of dignity and a sliver of love left to give....And now I have these still and a lot more momentum...And what else is there?

And what else is there?

June 20, 2007

----------------------

10 years and counting ten more and ten more and ten more....and more....

It was ten years ago tonight that he left this earth.

If people say time heals all wounds, that may possibly be true but it couldn't ever account for the images and sounds one never forgets: some are of myself making noises I didn't know I was capable of, sentences that will just float in time unable to rest because I still hear their echoes now. I can't make out the words but I see blurs of 51st and Telegraph, neighbors staring at me, my banana I bought from the liquor store and couldn't eat.

"He's as cold as a fish".

He's as cold as a fish.

The impossiblity that someone couldn't put themeselves together again, couldn't be fixed is still astonishing to me. I can't place why. It's as if when I think of his movement (the way he used to joke, sing along to his favorite bands and snore to name just a few) it seemed infinite, it seemed stronger than death and I still believe in fairy tales when I think of it. Fairy Tales where people can turn into animals, can morph from inatimate objects or furniture and can even somehow transcend the real.

But then I wake up from whatever kind of blinking slumber you call that.

I watched the machines they use to revive those that can no longer be revived. Did you know they talk? They say "Resuscitation not recommended". The coroner took notes. He looked annoyed and frustrated with my sobbing. I asked him questions which he answered in a very matter of fact and cold kind of way. "What is that stuff coming from his mouth? Does that mean something?" He stared at me for at least a few seconds before answering. And I don't even remember his answer. His assistant, make that cronie didn't even look up. I suppose it's easier that way. Matter-of-fact nothingness.

The neighbors outside told me that he probably didn't feel anything. "Don't worry" they said. But it was precisely that that worried me.

That he didn't ever feel anything and that he is gone still ten years later because of a search to feel something.

I suppose we are all on a search to feel something or do something even if it's just to feel normal or comfortably distracted.

I don't know about searching but I am tired of reaching.
My patience is running out.
My dreams as of late are all about escape and treacherous hearts.
But who is the treacherous one?
I'll fantasize about it forever or will I?
The end, the end, the end, the end.

Cheers to someday and to some days.

in love, black bitches dvds, the bus, my life, breakfast burrito cravings

ever have one of those melting conversations in a bus or train station with your lover?

the kind where your heart melts, your toes tingle, you say yer i love yous and part ways feeling like a feather and heavy as a brick all in one glance....

It's not necessarily the kind of conversation you want or need but they happen sometimes anyway.

forgive the bad hollywood comparison but my grandmother was a big cher fan in the 80s (you know she rooted for her...and since she is a gay icon and is armenian and had that young bagel making boyfriend...i always thought she was cool beans)....

so back to cher: walking down the street in moonstruck kicking the cans down brooklyn or whatevs...

In my childhood memory, she is delerious with love. Like a semi could smash into her and she wouldn't even have noticed. Why do people look like this in movies? Do you think they look like this in real life too? Do they get smashed in real life too? I know I've seen at least one other movie where this happens. Well, let me tell you....once I gave what I would consider to be fairly good head at 6am in the morning so the C.B might have a good day at work. He was thrilled when he left and later on in the day couldn't remember why that day was so damn good. Well, cuz it only lasts until the first bitchy customer says "extra foam motherfucker" or whatevs kind of job you have....

Back to Cher.

But, no back to me. This is about me.

that was me

except i was walking with my art supplies from work, my heavy heart and a pack of p-funks with no lighter...

then!

i got on the bus and HE sat next to me....

He. He took some choice dvds out among them one called "black bitches" with a picture of a girlie squatting down with her uh...assets shrouded in dollar bills (yo)....She had a sort of sly look on her face and was almost winking. Me thinks that when you bend that far down with your legs spread eagle it's almost like mother nature making you wink in several places. People say that shit is fake-I say not.

Dude on bus.

He then proceeded to take his member out and shag it around while he exchanged glances with mi cuerpo (cuz I wasn't even looking at that fool...) and the girl on the dvd.

I should have felt violated but really, I just felt like my moment was ruined. Why did he do that? Why did someone let that happen? I felt so good for a brief moment---gone.

It should suffice to say it's been awhile since a dude has done that next to me on the bus....

I just felt numb, like oh yea this is what dudes do. But, no? This guy was young.

And for reasons I cannot explain, I immediately began to crave a dos equis and a breakfast burrito.

One with eggs, cebollas, quesillo, frijoles, papas, fakin bacon from a-hoa, aguacate...the works....Maybe some tapatio too.

Maybe if anything I should thank him for beginning to get my appetite back.

But instead I came home and stole some baked tofu from my lover and squeezed some german mustard from whole foods on it.

the coffee in the french press was super watery. and my water was just water. I wanted it to be cheap beer but it wasn't.

maybe next time i should go with nicholas cage instead of cher...

what about valley girl? no....

Till the next time I walk thru downtown feeling madly in love with the city, sick of the city and wanting to be home waking up blissful and in love and fleeting.

What happens next?

It looks like I have already said everything I had to say.

caffeine and nicotine consumption overload.

I am marveling at the way two weeks ago, people were saying "you get so much done, I don't know how you do it"....all the while throwing their wrists in a "no fuckin' way" kinda manner like they thought I was a fucking magician or something...
I knew then something would happen.
And it's happened.
Whatever was forcing that production has died in me.
Completely apathetic ronald mcdonald is me.
I love the way everyone always says "Have you thought about your relationship with your dad?"..."It's a big part ya know...blah blah"...
Yea, I have thought about my relationship with my dad.
All the time.
In the last three months dealing with his death, my father has been reborn and died a million times over: from his seemingly "out" lifestyle that I have uncovered to his illness to his guns that I secretly want to possess to the painstakingly familiarity to my partner to thoughts of my grandma knowingly warning me of what would happen if I didn't talk to him.
I knew and I let it happen.
Because I wanted things to be like this.
And now they are
Things always end up the way we want them to be, right?
I told Camryn the other night: if you are afraid of something, it will rule you.
Well, right now I fuckin rule.
And I am off to buy another P-Funk pack.

Rapes of multiple sorts

I watched her lift her dress and invite him. I watched him at his stupidest and obviously, most insecure make these infantile gestures like he was big money G, like Jay Z or whomever....
Moving his hands, flipping them like "yea, sit up on my dick..." kinda thing....
I don't know what words go with that sorta thing but if yer a girl, you are privy to it right?
And, perhaps if you are a boy then maybe you have seen some sort of imagery that lets you known dudes are really Cool, they can do that sorta thing. And maybe if yer queer, then you think it's cool to do that to the girls that walk into the bar at night. By the way though, it's not. It doesn't always turn me on. Just so you know.

I believe she was bothered. I believe she wanted to have fun and maybe doesn't know how.
I believe she is ignorant and confused and irresponsible. I have considered myself a fan of Paglia but on Saturday night, I thought of that wench.

See the deal is, I had an argument, while a light one, an argument nonetheless with my partner about it when we came home. He was horrrified that I was "making excuses" for his bandmate. He said "you are wearing a Take Back the Night sweatshirt and saying this shit. I can't believe you" He shook his head slowly but in visible disgust.

But, I did too.

Because over and over again, I thought of all the times I had said something about his bandmates behavior. He disgusts me I thought a year ago. He would hit on everyone. Everyone. I mean, EVERYONE. One time he cornered me in an elevator telling me he loved me. I pushed him out of the way while my ex laughed. Even later still, another ex laughed when I told her about it. I was shocked that such a dude could be popular amongst the feminists, dykes, queers and anarcho whores of my supposed clan. How? How could I be the only one?

And as time has progressed, I find myself still in arguments with him, ritualistically almost....I find any excuse to debate....it's the only way I thought: to try to find common ground with this person that I once found a monster.

But, Saturday....all my housemates were the monster....because Saturday night mattered and all the other times didn't.
How does it make sense?

I felt ill. I felt abandoned. And I felt childish.

Like, I was holding a grudge. I brought up an old roomate who we kicked out because he basically "accidentally" assaulted me on May Day. He was beyond fucked up and in trying to stop a fight, he hit me and swung a skateboard in my face. I consistently pointed this out to my roomates when we evalutated whether we could live with him. I would find myself saying things like "if we let him stay, I wonder whether this means that it is okay to inflict violence upon others, upon me....are we saying it's okay to hurt women???"

He had to leave and my roomates and I were both sad. We loved him but I couldn't live with someone like that. And furthermore, he had accused me of making the whole thing up.....

I thought of him while I evaluated the two dancers on the floor Saturday night. I have been there sooooo many times. As a pro-whore, former practicing whore, someone who has worked various jobs within the sex industry via "entertaining" to "talking" to "dancing" to "selling candy when I was really selling my ass", the worst for anyone that has ever asked me was my last mongomous relationship. I let my ex pay for skool and I did whatever it was that had to be done no matter how disgusted it made me. You wanna talk about sex work: being a wifey is some bullshit in my opinion depending on who its with....

I have danced with people practically or definitely naked and I have also flaunted to the best of my ability to see what would happen....much as it seemed she was....but, I haven't worked past her telling me "does he always act like this?" with a giggle mind you....

He grabbed her and she grabbed him. She shook her head and he looked confused and if she could have seen my face she would have noticed I was also confused. I asked her if he was bothering her and she didn't answer. I stood inbetween the two and she continued to dance with him as if I was in the way. When he pulled her to where he was sitting she hiked her skirt and danced over him. I can't stand looking at her the same way I couldn't stand looking at myself. The only difference is that I never made excuses. I just told people I was a slut.

I watched you in a bar in D.F this past christmas

So, yes this is the cheesiest bar ever or maybe the cheesiest music but it's the only thing left for a Sunday. It'll do!
I am watching you making out with a girl who lives here.
Gringolandia, for sure...not sure exactly where....Maybe you are Finnish? I don't even know if Finnish has two n's.
Maybe you are from Oslo, the birth of Black Metal...but it is really too difficult to tell.
She is "working" and you seem oblivious. You seem like you are pretending you don't know that she is trying to work you into her schedule for the night.
You seem to be acting like she actually likes you and sure, maybe she does like you more than who she usually has to put up with but as far as really enjoying your company: it seems irrelevent.
Or is it all an act?
Possibly you came here to be "cultured".
But, no quite possibly you came here to get laid.
Some of us are yet to find any sort of cultural or metaphysical or state of mind or philosophical home but we keep on trying.
Looking at you I think of the kids from from Espana I met in Cuba a few years ago.
"This is the cheap Riviera", they laughed.
But, Mexico....
everyone is trying to absorb her, myself included.
Yet, it just consistently absorbs us until we find ourselves drinking a lone Modelo listening to Rock en Espanol, which I really could be doing by the way in East Los.
But, I find myself struggling to finish my beer and deciding it really isn't worth it.
I need to walk back to the hotel.
I take one last glance at you.
She is telling you what she is hoping to do with her life, you are nodding and looking at her tits.
You say you need to go. She says "No, you don't. You just got here." And then, okay...all over again.
I wander down the street and wonder what the zocalo looks like.
When I edge closer, I realize it's completely empty. The lights are still on but even APPO is sleeping. The is a small family dragging a baby and a display to hang crafts to the tents but no one else.

The cops are staring at me and I finish my cigarette.