claudiapena.com

This is an interview with j. r. gonzales, copy editor here in town as well as a Houston history blogger on his relationship with the English language. As I was swimming the complex sea of the internet, I stumbled upon jr who confirmed my ranting that there is no such word as wuthering in the English language…but should I take the word of one whose screen name is rimmers? Dare I ask and will it publishable on my wholesome site?

j.r.gonzales: That’s my job. There are 10 of us. Well, we have slots who work here too, you know. My relationship with language? The English language?

cp: (no, cantonese) yes

j.r.gonzales: I think I’ve developed a nice relationship with the English language over the last few years. I would say we were well apart for quite some time until I started to take her seriously. Now it works out great and I get paid every other week for my efforts. More like “I never knew you existed,”"where you been all my life.” It would have been nice if I got to know it a little better sooner.

cp: Do you taste every word or use it like spork?

j.r.gonzales: I wouldn’t relate so much to words, but more like punctuation and usage and grammar. No…those are more like the plates and glasses. They keep everything together and in place.

cp: so, what is desert for you? what do you look forward to in your writing job?

j.r.gonzales: Hard to say. I take greater joy in writing a clever headline more so than when I was reporting. Coming up with a headline is like trying to solve a puzzle. You have so much space to fit the words. And you have to be accurate about it too. By longest, they could take an hour. You only have so much time with a story before you send it off. And I probably read about 7-10 stories a night. So, you can’t really dawdle on a story or headline. I remember a nice one that never got published when Katrina was off the Louisiana coast: “Doom Awaits Gulf Coast.” The gulf coast was doomed in retrospect.

cp: do you ever feel poetry in your craft? or would you describe it as an art?

j.r.gonzales: It’s definitely an art. Depending on the way words come together, it can sound like sheer bloody poetry. Some work on an informative level. Others come with double meanings that are both relevant to the story. My boss had a great one a few weeks back when Queen Elizabeth II visited the U.S.: “Queen with a capital queue.” Queue means line. It’s also how u pronounce the letter Q. yeah. Some headlines elevate themselves to sheer poetry. Some can be so succinct as well. The NY Post had a famous headline on Gerald Ford denying federal money to help NYC’s financial crisis. It was “Ford to NYC: Drop Dead.”

cp: what do you do to further or perfect your tools?

j.r.gonzales: READ. Oh, and READ SOME MORE. Building vocabulary, reading comprehension adds more tools to my toolbox. I don’t write in my books. I don’t check out books because I don’t read fast enough. When I finish reading, I keep them and put them on my bookshelf or I just give away to people. I read one book at a time. I don’t have a particular nonfiction writer or blogger. I don’t read much poetry. I try to alternate between topics. I just finished a novel on espionage. Now I’m reading something on howard hughes. Last one I read was “Slaughterhouse Five.” In a few weeks, I’ll begin “Grapes of Wrath” or maybe “Fahrenheit 451.”

cp: wow. Thank you for your interview, is there anything else you would like to add?

j.r.gonzales: Tempus fugit. Time flies.

cp: BTW, I want to know your truthful thoughts on my work

j.r.gonzales: I would say your poetry is… vaginal.

(there was a long pause after this, i didn’t know if I could laugh or be offended, I opted for laughter)
cp: I have never heard anyone describe my poetry that way…the best is nuttier than squirrel feces. Yours just took the cake

j.r. gonzales: Hmm…I think it sums up poetry that comes off as wildly feminine, angry, cultural, out in left field, frentic, needy, wanting and imaginative. But overall, it’s vaginal.

ummm…thank you, ummm, (I guess?!)

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Emotions run high in the room
From the labyrinth of creation
to the product of sensation–
I’ve been here before
It’s such a beautiful natural high
Toast to the friends and faces
A kiss, a glance from a new stranger,
…an inspiration: was there ever an old stranger?..

The presence of love in saturation
The room’s a jade green dagger
Trimming eyes from all the virulent matter;
It’s only the front that counts
–So good to see you, glad you could come–
Blissful ignorance, happily embraced!

My pertinacity monkey glues me to the scene
like mid day drivers to a train wrecked dream
I have a headache from cheap wine and cigarettes
It’s the same pack of gold for the past two months
I’ll soon discard because it’s going bad

The cynicism of the situation amuses me
I ran the day before so I can take deeper drag
I’ll run the day after,
So I can reach purgatory in the temple of my mind
It’s all a matter of experiences,
It’s all a matter of creation that makes me think
what coerces people into one?
Why is the monetary value of creation so low,
and ceding to temptation so high?

“Love needs a transfusion, let’s shoot it full of wine; fishing for a good time starts with throwing in your line.” –Tom Waits, “New Coat of Paint”…from my friend’s opening night of “Even the Sun Cried.” I just found my old Neil, Cash, and Dylan cd’s so you might get a respite from Waits…maybe.

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My father and I had a heart to heart talk and I wanted to share:
1. Love yourself more than you do anyone or anything else.
2. Slow down and enjoy what you have accomplished instead of looking at the next major goal.
3. Always treat others with respect, even when others do not respect you.
4. “Un clavo no siempre quita otro clavo.” Sometimes the arms of another person can be healing, but often the soul needs love and that’s not the way to find it.
5. Men, on the general, are no good, but there are many good men out there.
6. Life is about relationships; if you build good relationships than everything else follows.
7. We all need love. Life without love, is not worth living.

My short life view to my father:
1. Don’t hate; Hate is a cancer eating the soul, taking too much energy and effort that could be used for better purposes.
2. Everything happens for a reason, if anything else it asks you to have empathy.
3. Everything in life has a meaning; it may not be revealed until a long ways down the line.
4. Guilt is not something anyone should ever have on their conscious.
5. Pray everyday and often for the wellness of everyone, even those who wouldn’t wish that upon you. At least when they are happy they have less time and inclination to think about you.

After so many years of turbulence, my father and I have reached a calm sea and I enjoy spending time with him. That makes me happy. Healing is a great word. The best part is he reached over and gave me a big hug, “I love you, mija.” An early happy father’s day to all the father’s reading this!

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Getting involved in students’ lives has its rewards and consequences. I sit and watch the smiling girl on stage dancing giving the Lord a silent prayer of thanks.

Last week her mother cried nonstop in the hallway regardless of who watched or not. “No, you can not do anything about it now, do not worry, Ms. Z. I know it feels bad, but do not worry.”

“Pero por que yo? Por que mi nina? No es justo!” But why me, why my child, it is not fair. I wanted to choke in emotion. The little girl whimpered with her mom.

Second meeting. Seeing the mother feels like watching short silent foreign vignette. She edges up to me and wants me to talk; so I talk as I clean the room. The weather is hot…the money, well, getting another job, you know how that goes. I can’t help but to see the sadness in her eyes. It is hard being alone and I don’t understand it either, I confirm. Sometimes you do everything right and still you get what you don’t want. I know but perhaps it is because there is a greater happiness ahead. She bows her head and smiles. My art room makes her feel happy and I welcome her to stay as long as she wants. She exits silently after 15 minutes. I hope she comes back next week.

Some things really get under my skin. The logical side of me screams, why? Because it was easy? Because you felt power? Because she was alone under your care? Because you could? Because it was a child? WHY? God, help me, WHY? I give the Lord a second prayer of thanks for this moment.

This is my scream into the silence, nothing more can be done.

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There are days when the morning seems to drag and the clouds weep and I can’t find my prayer to let God heal my longing. There are mornings when I praise the grace of God I am no longer inside the torrent of your wind at peace with the solitude. There are days when I wonder why you didn’t give me the chance to amend like my parents and grandparents fought for years for each other. There are days and things I’ve thrown way to forget you and didn’t think twice about it. There are days when the difficulty is remembering amidst the laughter of joy and the contentment of humanity. There are days when I think this was for a reason and I will come out better in the end. There are days when the food seems to walk away from my fury and I rue the day I ever met you. There are days when I feel the strongest at my weakest, thanking God for all his strength. There are no more days that ask if you truly loved me why didn’t you stay…it’s a painful answer. There are just…days.

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I heave and I almost wonder where, when, how and whom…if this world is truly a predetermined from death to conception and my life has been decided then why do I feel so insecure. I wonder of the possibility of us floating and making it up as we go along. Is the fear of messing up and the fearlessness of trying an acquired position for everybody and how many of us die in blasophobia? Human beings are full of complexities and it’s in the opposites that most people live in. I wonder why and how does that work. Where does it end and how long till it begins. How often and when can I rest. What constitutes love? How come it’s so difficult to describe, delineate, replicate, rubricate, enunciate all the forms of love and I wonder how many other cultures does love play hide-and-go-seek. Is love all that constitutes success or is there a percentage? Useless questions that need pondering is an oxymoron.

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