-The many faces of JM
February 2006 Archives
Say cheese.
Danny, Yusef, & Euli / @ Club Score / SoBe
-D & I @ da club
-Euli's oreja in the Tropical heat
Despite the fact that I came home at around 4:30am I woke up super early. Everyone except for my mom was pretty much asleep. I went to the gym after a bowl of leche-con-con-flay (milk with corn flakes). When I got back home, I attempted a short nap after showering but my mom and grandfather talked me into driving them to an old Cuban lady’s house whose son is my new uncle in law. I for some reason knew that this would be a bad idea from the second I heard it. How boring! Que aborrido yo estaba! Old Cuban folk can talk and talk and talk about absolutely nothing. My favorite parts are the old stories of Cuba but those come wrapped in endless nonsense concerning the mundane, and talks of surgery, doctors, ailments, and yet more nonsense. We stayed an infinite hour that was topped with rounds of café Cubano. Later that afternoon, I met up with my boy at the beach and took lots of pictures and ate bad seafood at a shin ding called Miami Subs on Washington Ave. The place reeked of frying oil, which clung to the colorful tropical mural of exotic plants and birds of its inner walls. A section of the restaurant was ruined my a drip that came from an air vent located above a cheap fiberglass eating surface which contained who knows how many dysentery causing bugs. The droplets caused a constant outward splash from the unattended, almost full bucket that was placed beneath.
After getting my fair share of pictures, I was about to leave the beach but got a phone call and stayed behind to meet someone else for a dinner date. We ate burgers at Cafeteria on Lincoln Road. I had the crab burger, with the avocado on the side. It was great to know that my real life existed in present winter, yet here I sat, outdoors, in summer gear, allowing myself to forget all that I left behind. The date went well under a cloud of what felt like quasi-interest indifference with misleading outbursts of shine here and there. We bid farewells and went on our way.
Later that night, I met up with my high school buddy, and a freind from NY, at a seedy little hole in the wall called Azucar, near Coconut Grove. I was greeted by the club-goers with that starved fresh-meat look of desperation. Do not get me wrong I like attention. It is just that I received enough of it for the entire year that night. My friend kept laughing and would pop up every ten minuets or so to remind me of that fact that his friends all seemed to be lust-struck and it was my entire fault. The compliments, and drink offers came in all night. Yet, I only had a Corona and a Vodka-Cranberry that entire night. Whenever, I would put a cigarette to my mouth several lighters or matches would immediately appear before me. I tried it several times even when not really caring for a cigarette just as a feels-good experiment of sorts. The attention was cool but a little too much. We decided to leave and hit a bar on the beach where I would also be deemed fresh-meat by the locals and received a few inappropriate comments. Flattery seemed to be running amuck, and I was all smiles or eye rolls. During the thirty minuets that I was in there, I decided on a cranberry juice since I had already long-ago finished the two drink limit I set for myself that evening. As soon as I had the first sip some soul who couldn’t seem to keep its hands to its self decided to run grimy fingers along my back while passing me. Inadvertently Miss Thing also managed to get a finger in my drink and knock it down. The entire artificially colored juice cocktail hit the ground and then with a great splash, showered me from head to toe. I was doused pink in the middle of my parade. If looks could kill, that tacky bitch would have been dust. One entire half of my tang top was now ruined and soaking wet as was my beautiful baby blue Nike polo knit shirt. I was so pissed! I took off my shirt for what may have been the 9th time in my life in a club/bar environment. I realized how uncomfortable and self conscience I actually am about my body surrounded by all the muscle beach-bunnies whose full time job seemed to be working out. I remained an extra 15min, and after more tacky ill attempts at come on lines from sun seared third parties I went home.
-My beautiful niece, Isabella
Today was a beautiful sunny day. I ate half a box of smacks and then went to the gym. I spent much of the morning with Abuelo and for lunch we ate pan con bistec. (Steak sandwiches) After deciding that I couldn’t possibly deal with any more visitors and had had enough of Hialeah for the day, I headed over to my boys house in Kendall and hung out with friends. My friend’s parent’s home was beautiful. Why it remains empty while they live 95 percent of the year in NYC is beyond me. It then rained cats and dogs which I had to dodge while driving back on the Palmetto expressway, in an uninsured rental car. Visibility was horrible and it was hard to see further then 30 feet in front of the vehicle. Once I got home I got ready and was back out the door to meet up with my friends at the bar. Before I even crossed the threshold I was already handed free drink tickets. I think we all got buzzed on my drink tickets and only spent our money to tip the bartender. I danced for the first time in a long time. It was fun I danced with a friend most of the night. I usually dance alone but my dance partner was cute so I didn’t mind, as I later did not when a very quick kiss-bite thing was done to my bottom lip. Everyone was not having an equally good time and some were right out crabby. We then all left and had some shots of café Cubano to help with the drive back home. I got home and cradled in to my mommy’s bed, like I use to secretly do when I was in Cuba because I was terrified of the dark and had awful dreams. This time it was different I was not quiet about it. I saw her silhouette in the dark waiting for me to find my place underneath the sheets so that she might ask me of my night and share a few words before we fell asleep. She asked about a certain someone, who I did not care to remember but she thinks is a “nice and good boy” and worth constantly mentioning. She then fell asleep and left me awake in the past. I fell asleep twenty minuets later then I would have had I not been left daydreaming in the dark.
My mother who is photographically challanged took endless tries at this picture.
We finally gave up and kept this semi fuzzy one. (Sigh)....Thanks ma.
-The "River of Grass"
I woke up early today and took my youngest brother to the Everglades National Park. I took a lot of pictures and we later rode 15miles of gator infested trails under the scorching sun. I was equipped with my cameras and I am sure that he was quite annoyed at my 3 and 4 foot proximity approaches to large 100 plus pound gators in search of National Geographic type shots. I must admit it was a little daring on my part and quite nerve wrecking to be so close to the slithery monsters but I made it back home with all of my appendages intact and one hell of a sun burn. My ass cheeks required a stay at an intensive care unit after that long swap ride. It felt as if I would never make it to the end of the trail. The ride took about three hours to complete on a one speed cruiser. Next time, if ever, I will be taking a ten speed with ass-conscience shocks, sunscreen, and a safe distance telescopic lens. I was immensely tired after that endless marshy bayou expedition and my knees continued to buckle all the way to Wendy’s where my brother and I made the best of their dollar menu. After a two hour nap, I went out to the gym and lifted all the semi-heavy weight I could manage, went back home and showered, dressed, and finally talked myself out of going out and went to sleep early.
Abuelo and I woke up early and after a shot of café Cubano and a cigarette I did some dips and pull-up repetitions which the old man was determined to count out load making me push myself to do a lot more then I was willing to that morning for the simple sake of making grandpa proud of my “hereditary abilities”. He reminded me of my childhood ingenuity ability of being able to hammer many pieces of scrap wood together until I created a pole long enough to knock down the chirimollas (star fruit) of his neighbors yard and return back home dirty, with sticky hands and face as proof of my 4 year old triumphs. We later rocked our selves on the patio rockers for long hours and shared stories about Napoleon Bonaparte and other historical figures. It always amazes me that a man who never went to school nor owned a pair of shoes until well past the age of 18 could be as refined and well read as he is. I am not sure how he managed to integrate all of those books into his rural farm life in Camaguey before arriving to the Havana metropolis in his late 20’s. I still have vivid memories of looking through the pictures in the books at my grandparent’s home and understanding that they contained knowledge of a world past but not-yet forgotten, distant, , but through pages accessible. I remember him at my side explaining what the pictures symbolized and teaching me history, the animal kingdom, and of the indigenous Cuban Hatuey, Caribe, and Taino natives which always fascinated me. I like to think that my love for books and knowledge perhaps came as a result of our private time in his libraries. I later took him with me to pick up my rental car which we took to the Cuban shopping mecca of Sedanos, ( a chain of Floridian supermarkets marketed for the Hispanic community) while he shared his glorifying views of American automotive ingenuity. We went in for a loaf of Cuban bread and some cold cuts and ended up buying many other things that he required tasting before his homeland return. That man’s appetite is insatiable. My brothers and I like to wake him up in the a.m. hours to taste our batidos de fruta bomba (Papaya milkshakes) or for a cup of rocky road ice cream. He relishes those late night snacks and always joyfully rises to the occasion.
I arrived in Miami at around 7pm. It was the first time in a very long while that I arrive and it was not raining. I thought it would be a good sign. That was until I learned that my luggage was sitting somewhere in Atlanta, GA. I was so pissed, especially because the 80 degree weather was not working well with the winter sweat pants that I was wearing. I was fuming, as were my balls, which were basking in the 80 degree weather. My younger brother, mother, and grandfather all came out to greet me at the airport. However, they waited for me at the above level departure level while I bitched amidst car and bus exhaust on the lower level arrival section. After an hour of phone tag with my less then patient father at Hialeah central control; I figured out where they were and found them. I was so happy to see my abuelito. It has been such a long time. I was worried that I would find a weak, frail and demented version of the man I remembered. I found a strong, erect, and mentally sound patriarch full of vitality and preserved memories. I felt like crying but held my tears and remind quiet while he shared old stories. I came home as always to a super loving, affectionate, and attentive family. Everyone wanted to share a story, hug, or steal a moment with me. After hours of talk, food and shots of cafesito Cubano (strong sweet espresso) I lay down on the bed with my grandfather. We talked long hours about Northern city life, agriculture, Cuba, and any other subject he initiated, except for Cow farming which I tended to be more of a listener then speaker, until I eventually fell asleep at his side. We sleep alike, on our sides, quietly with an occasional shift of position, exhaling short low snores that seem more like sighs of relief at being able to close your eyes to the world and forget its troubles.
