Crash.

100 miles an hour,
nowhere to go,
left between the ocean and the sun,
gripping the wheel tightly,
don't let me go.
reflections in the distance,
i wish we could have grown.
shadows growing on rocky walls,
these giants racing near,
full speed ahead.
just a straight road
did you see me?
moments of rage feed me,
the wind pulling my long hair,
you can do it baby,
just seek the air.
my tires are burning,
my world is turning,
i may not be returning,
could you please be more discerning.
tears from my eyes,
shaking so violently,
it's hard to keep my grip.
my destination draws near,
green eyes are shutting,
clouds of dust spinning from the back wheels,
did i do the right thing?
falling so quickly,
my hands above my heart,
just waiting to win.
i did it,
i'm crashing,
there will be no more clashing,
this will be the final slashing,
white and yellow lights are dimly flashing.
waves of blue and gold to wrap me in.
my chest is breaking,
the cold is taking,
this was long in the making,
did you want to run me so thin?
i watched myself fade,
my lips have gone blue,
once olive skin has turned white.
deeper and deeper the descend
the sun has lost its incandescence
forever lost,
a soulless way,
eternally strapped to the cold,
will you miss me now that i'm gone?

Cafe Con Leche.

People have been asking me lately what's been up with my MySpace status blurbs about cafe con leche. If you are not latin through and through, you probably don't know what cafe con leche is or means. And if you were not lucky enough to have a mother or a grandmother that force fed you a caffeine addiction from the moment you were stripped of the bottle, then you definitely don't know what the significance of CAFE CON LECHE is. Cafe con leche is exactly as it translates, "coffee with milk." However, ANYONE of Latin decent knows that cafe con leche is different than your average fucking coffee with cream. It's espresso that's been deeply steeped and then whipped in WARMED heavy cream and sugar. It's smoother than a latte and a bit heavier than a cappuccino. It is heaven in a glass and there is something wrong with you if you are a coffee lover and do not prefer THIS over ANYTHING.

So anyway, being the GOOD Cuban that I really am, I'm currently living off of cafe con leche. If I could honestly just drink this shit all day long and never eat, I would be happy. But then I get all jittery and fucking nutso to the point where a straitjacket would be necessary and it's not so fun. I guess I will ingest some beans or garlic something periodically.

Anyway, so today I had a good laugh when a friend mine to call me to bitch about this girl I absolutely loathe and how she's going to rip her a new one. SURPRISE, SURPRISE. I swear I didn't have money riding on this, really. I would like that check written out to PRINCESS PINCHE, thank you. So the point in why I can't stand this girl is because she was a complete fake from the get-go. I put up with his fakery and her copy-cat antics for a long time until shit started getting whacky from what different parties were telling me so I was just over it. I probably talked more shit than I should have been at least I can say all of it was true. In all of this, what doesn't make sense to me is that said fatso girl said she was Cuban. Well, it turns out her dad isn't really her dad and adopted her when she was a teenager or some shit but somehow she's still Cuban in there somewhere, maybe layered between some cinnamon rolls and milk shakes but I don't how it's possible. It's essentially a long twisted story of bullshit and more fakery than I can handle but when you have ZERO positive impact on my life well then you can just kill yourself for all I care. The reason I am writing this is because said 10,000 calorie shake loving girl lied to me about Cuban and my Cubanism is the reason why I am writing this post in the first place.

Being Cuban isn't just what's on your family tree. It's about being raised a certain way, being around loud and fiery people that mold your personality into something absolutely fucking batshit crazy - accepting it and loving it. Cubans wear their hearts on their sleeves and their pride on their chests. Because there are so few of us scattered throughout the U.S., unless we're in little Cuba (Miami), we tend to bond right away and just know each other's lives because we're all so stereotypical. We love each other and just GET each other. If you walk into a room of Cubans and EVERYONE IS SCREAMING you know that it's just casual conversation, even though eyes are bulged and about to pop out of their sockets and hands are up in the air. In otherwords, every Cuban is hated by their non-Cuban "I don't get it" neighbor. We have an undying love of fried plantains and garlic and we can't explain why it needs to be accompanied in EVERY meal other than "it's really fucking good." Sometimes I wonder how I go about daily life without having a platter of fried platanos, BOTH savory and sweet. And if you have to ask if there are two ways to fry plantains you might as well just stab your eyes and stop reading my blog. Being Cuban is about looking forward to eating dinner late at night, drinking your materba even though it tastes like horsepiss mixed ginger ale, enjoying mojitos, coconut ice cream, playing dominos while alternating between chewing chunks of sugar cane and smoking cigars, never losing at poker and when you do you want to throw the table out the window, being argumentative, loud, overly friendly and lacking all reasoning as to why you're so sexually charged all the time. Lastly and most importantly, being Cuban is about your family and spending time with them. This would be why my abuelita STILL rules the roost even though she doesn't live with me anymore (I miss her living with us.)

And what's great is that after listing everything - I can honestly say I don't blame that ulta creepy girl for lying about being Cuban. We are a pretty fucking awesome breed of human. I'm glad we're a rarity and that the Puerto Ricans strive to be just like us. (insert evil grin here).

So I guess all I have to say is... CUBA LIBRE!!!!