Posts Tagged ‘Recreation’

Read this as if it didn’t happen this morning. Read this as if it didn’t happen to you, or me. Or, read it as it is written. Your choice. I just wish it didn’t happen.

Yet it didn’t take too much time for things to heat up in my world ( you know what I mean).  The right wins, because they own the left in America. Crypto-fascists cannot be trusted. I will write more on that when myhead is more clear.

Do you believe in coincidence? I don’t.

united states currency eye- IMG_7364_web

They are everywhere. And watching. Listening, but not hearing; looking without seeing. And don't even think they have feelings--they don't.

But two people that came here to live the American dream, who ‘rode across’ in gasoline tanks, and walked across deserts, and mountains with a liter of water and worn out shoes–people who came,  and worked hard, and  lived nearly free in a foreign country are no longer amongst the ‘free’ in the ‘land of the free’.

They are at INS-ICE lockup, down  in […]. I can’t tell you the all the details of how they actually get here,  as I  do not want  to add to their misery with more useless ‘facts,’ which are always ‘ammunition’ for right wingers, crypto-fascists and ‘officials’ of government.

This morning at8:30 a.m. I got a call–the INS had come to round up a few “illegals” who were living in […].

My caretaker says ”  They wanted to know if […] and […] live here.”

I said “Don’t open the door. They can’t come in without a warrant.”

He said ” It’s too late. They had some serious looking papers. They came earlier, and your phone was turned off. They took […] and […] and they even asked me for papers. But they were here specifically for those two. They had pictures, and some papers.”

I said “But they can’t do that–she is here seeking asylum! She filed papers and …,” and I stewed about how ignorant people are– of the warrant requirement.

He said “They took her anyways. I don’t know what she was saying because I don’t speak […], but she was crying, and had papers in her hand-and[…] was crying too, and he tried to explain that she was here as an asylum seeker. They left a card and a number for you to call.”

I was outraged. I was pissed–in fact, there are no words to describe what I am feeling now. Flashbacks maybe, or just fucking pissed. And I never imagined […] could cry–he is such a stoic.

For the record, I am not  ‘family’, and I cannot speak with them unless I am their lawyer, advocate or other legally appointed representative.

Both of them are people that I ate with; played volleyball with; shared language, and learning with, and planted flowers with all summer long; and people who i cooked for, who always acted overly polite when offered it  ‘small portions, only  please,’ (!), but who always gave me huge plates of theirs saying ‘”try this. I used to serve it in a restaurant back home -try it”.

And i would eat, and never ask for seconds because it was worth thirds. It was THAT good.

“Did you get any paperwork at all?”

“No,” he says, ” It was all so fast…she was cooking breakfast …and…”

“The law says they have to leave paperwork,”  I said, not sure of the law and immigration or myself at that moment. I remembered that they put their names on the mailbox: “he” was giggling, her future husband was teasing “her” about having a home…

Turns out he–my caretaker- let them in–so, no paperwork required. See what happens when everybody doesn’t know the rules…?

I had been trying to drum up money to buy them a restaurant–my thought had been to buy an old house, and start it as a soup and coffee shop. Their idea was far more humble–they only wanted a stand in a market. They could hide easier amongst others in similar situations.

Both of ‘them’ were driven off in ” a big white van” this morning. Name it shame it, tame it–then claim it,  mother fuckers, but this ain’t even started yet, was my first thought.

Time will tell, was my second–and my third thought? Refer to the first thought if time don’t open it’s mouth pretty damn quick.

‘He’ was a fry cook, and ‘she’ was fleeing a country that was recently on the U.S. ‘watch list’ of potential terror ‘supporters’.  She was also a domestic violence victim: her husband told her that he would chop her into pieces and cook her if she ran away.

And when she told me that story, she would laugh, and then, look away nervously, or at her new mate, who, as it turns out […] was her ‘old love’ as well; her lover back home, and itwas he who paid her way here, too. They planned to get married…

So she ran away anyways, against her husbands ‘will’.  ‘Welcome to America,’ I remember telling her with an odd ‘paternal’ happiness–happy that I could provide a home.

She and her would-be-future-brother-in-law will be flown ‘home’ after a hearing or two, I am told, to live once again next to a trembling volcanoe. Her love–the man she ran away to be with, will remain here, because he has the right paperwork.

Or: he or  I can pay for a lawyer, and be told the same thing i was told last time: they can extend it by a year, and then, maybe, she will be able to stay–but, like last time, if experience is any kind of teacher, she will be sent back anyways, and right quick.

But likely, she will be dumped just across the Mexican border, in Juarez, like so many are these days, as the U.S. refuses to accept some forms of paperwork from ‘illegals.’

But fuck you, and anyone who shits on ‘the little people’: capital FUCK, littler you, and anyone who condones this, or pushed for it to happen–team ‘community snitch’ ala the Patriot Act. The problem is, it’s always the ‘wrong’ people getting shipped out of here, and the ‘right’ ones remaining.  And when I say right, I mean–that was really, really wrong.

Happy Halloween to all the Cowboys and Cowgirls who like a Rough Ride every now and again. The rest of you can go trick or treat elsewhere. There's a great scene in the movie Midnight Cowboy, that shows us a unique side of the male female dynamic. A wealthy matron, Shirley (Brenda Vaccaro) attempts to entice, coerce, humiliate, or manipulate the intrepid, clueless gigolo, Joe Buck (played by Jon Voight--Angelina Jolie's real life father), into having sex with her. The script is delicious, and one of themost insightful pieces of film to ever examine male sexuality beyond the hetero-normative stereotypes. Enjoy this snippet of dialogue and screen direction!
Cover of "Midnight Cowboy (Two Disc Colle...

Cover via Amazon

SHIRLEY 		(stifles giggle)
	Okay. Never argue with a man.

 JOE 	Y -- what in hell starts with Y?

Shirley slyly trails the tips of her fingernails across Joe's
chest as she leans over to study the game, breathing softly
into his ear as she speaks.

 SHIRLEY 	It can end in Y day, pay, lay --
	hey, pay lay!

One predatory hand rests on his knee -- as if by accident -
disarranging the sheet, talon nails lightly brushing his
thigh.

 JOE 	Cut it out. That's cheating,
	teasing me so I can't think.
	Just one bitsy Y word and I gonna
	beat you!

 SHIRLEY 	You gonna beat me, Joe?

 JOE 	Beat your butt, you don't lemme
	think!

 SHIRLEY 	Gay ends in Y. Fey. You like that --
	gay fey -- is that your problem?

 JOE 	I show you what problem --

But the end of his sentence is swallowed by Shirley, taking
his kiss in her open mouth, crushed by its impact, an animal
noise snarling deep in her throat -- the agonized alley cat
wail of pleasure -- Joe's problem is solved. Joe's love theme
swells triumphant. At the same time, Shirley half-rises,
trying to force Joe's head down, her own on top. The issue is
joined. Shirley has named the game. Her objective is to force
Joe onto his back. Joe's objective is to retain his
initiative. Camera ignores the classic action on the central
front, concentrating exclusively on peripheral tactical
maneuvers...

... Joe's elbows pinning her shoulders...

... her eyes bright, accepting the challenge...

... his tight smile revealing clenched teeth...

... her fingers searching out then tickling his underarm...

... Joe laughing as he falls lopsidedly...

... Shirley laughing triumphantly...

... his hand closing on her wrist...

... her talon-nails clawing the air...

... her toes walking up his calf...

... her legs suddenly locking around his knees...

... her free hand grabbing his hair...

... her shoulder rising as she forces his head back...

... her lips pressing down on his...

... his hand swatting an unidentified mass of flesh...

... her eyes popping, teeth clamping his ear lobe...

... his hand catching her ankle...

... her teeth losing the ear lobe as she screams...

... her foot appearing upside down beside her face...

... her talon-nails furrowing flesh, drawing blood...

... his head rearing back, roaring...

... both rolling to the floor, out of view...

... her feet suddenly flying up into view...

... her hand tugging rhythmically at the blanket...

... her other hand wildly exploring Joe's back...

... her ankles locking spasmodically...

... her eyes and mouth wide, gaping...

... the blanket suddenly ripping free, flying into the air as
her arm flings itself around Joe...... the bedclothes spilling down around them, muffling her
ascending shrieks. JOE'S VOICE 	Whoopee ti yi yo...
 Midnight Cowboy Script here.