what the fuck?
i miss writing like i did, from underneath my curtainless window in Marina, California on those dark NorCal nights almost seven years ago now. the night air around Cal State Monterey Bay is like a Yukon wilderness with coyotes howling underneath airplane towers glowing red above the trees. you can hear the Harley-Davidsons on midnight highways and picture mornings of lumberyard men in plaid shirts eating pancakes.
i can still feel the leather seat of that G 20. that Bay expanding universally in the corners of my driving eyes. an American & Mexican frontier with Ohleone and other Native coastal tribes settling in long before that.
and here i am, all these years later, too far south on this same coastline and wondering, with everything I just said, why my heart is so angry for seeing a guy in the first row above the Red Sox dugout flapping around a Mexican flag after a Cody Ross walk-off home run. Cody Ross is anything but Mexican. Boston ought to be anything but Mexican, unless we've allowed "multiculturalism" in America to the point of it never having been there in the first place. i don't think many people were there waving Mexican flags as they fought and died against the British in Lexington & Concord.
and i know a single baseball game out of the 162 they play year after year is hardly something to make me feel the blood of Bunker Hill, but do you see all the American Revolutionary history surrounding this American pastime in what is one of the oldest American cities... and then you see someone pointlessly winging around Mexican nationalism in it. maybe if he had an Adrian Gonzalez jersey on I'd get it. I liked to see the circle of Taiwanese fans who showed up for all the games Jeremy Lin started in Madison Square Garden, all waving their flags. They were there for him, not to celebrate their Aztlan invasion.
maybe it has something to do with this nation being under attack from my old Marina, over my home of New York, and onto the last wooden inch of every pier in that city of Boston. to where I cannot even enjoy a baseball game, which I already feel guilty about as I know it's a distraction and does stop me from learning how to be a self-sufficient American man like the Ghost of old Tom Joad, without seeing Mexican flags instead of American flags in the crowd.
i can still feel the leather seat of that G 20. that Bay expanding universally in the corners of my driving eyes. an American & Mexican frontier with Ohleone and other Native coastal tribes settling in long before that.
and here i am, all these years later, too far south on this same coastline and wondering, with everything I just said, why my heart is so angry for seeing a guy in the first row above the Red Sox dugout flapping around a Mexican flag after a Cody Ross walk-off home run. Cody Ross is anything but Mexican. Boston ought to be anything but Mexican, unless we've allowed "multiculturalism" in America to the point of it never having been there in the first place. i don't think many people were there waving Mexican flags as they fought and died against the British in Lexington & Concord.
and i know a single baseball game out of the 162 they play year after year is hardly something to make me feel the blood of Bunker Hill, but do you see all the American Revolutionary history surrounding this American pastime in what is one of the oldest American cities... and then you see someone pointlessly winging around Mexican nationalism in it. maybe if he had an Adrian Gonzalez jersey on I'd get it. I liked to see the circle of Taiwanese fans who showed up for all the games Jeremy Lin started in Madison Square Garden, all waving their flags. They were there for him, not to celebrate their Aztlan invasion.
maybe it has something to do with this nation being under attack from my old Marina, over my home of New York, and onto the last wooden inch of every pier in that city of Boston. to where I cannot even enjoy a baseball game, which I already feel guilty about as I know it's a distraction and does stop me from learning how to be a self-sufficient American man like the Ghost of old Tom Joad, without seeing Mexican flags instead of American flags in the crowd.