The authors are writing under fake names for their own security and privacy. The book is devastating to read. If this is the life of a Latin Queen who achieved high rank, what of those who were not ever so powerful? Coming from a background of child abuse, Lady Q manages to eventually make a break from the Latin Kings gang. But to do so she must first endure physical violence, mental abuse, drug addiction and dealing, the prison sentence of life for the man she loves, prison for herself, and wrecking the same havoc on her own child.
page 73
"In the hood people hurt one another, betray each other, even kill each other, but life goes on quickly. Resentments don't last. And what is the cause for strife one day is not expected to make a difference the next. The only unforgivable thing is when someone changes gang allegiances: this is the cause for mortal retaliation... '
page 116 - Sonia homeless...
"The closest Sonia came to a permanent shelter that winter was a room she rented at a boardinghouse. But she could only afford to pay for one week. After that she would leave the room early in the morning and come back late at night to avoid the landlord. She felt like a criminal, but her welfare check wasn't enough to both pay rent and buy diapers and food for herself and her baby. She knew that she wouldn't be able to avoid the landlord forever, she she wasn't surprised to find the locks changed when she returned to the room one night. There was no Thanksgiving dinner for Sonia and Lisette that year. There was no Christmas either, and no New Years celebration. No family, no friends, no gifts... She walked the streets in desperate need of help while Christmas shoppers turned their faces away so they wouldn't have to see her. She spent New years eve in a cold, dark hallway listening to the echoes of those who had something and someone to celebrate. Sonia looked at her a baby girl and softly apologized... She promised herself to never forget all the so-called Christians who passed her by as they acquired their tokens to celebrate their faith while she was left to suffer with a newborn baby on the streets...'
Chicago Review Press is the publisher...
Copyright by the authors 2008
The author Raymundo Sanchez will respond to questions mybloodylife@hotmail.com
12/20/08
From THE END of THE AFFAIR by GRAHAM GREENE
Chapter One, first paragraph -
BOOK ONE
"A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead. I say 'one chooses' with the inaccurate pride of a professional writer who - when he has been seriously noted at all - has been praised for his technical ability, but do I in fact of my own will choose that black wet January night on the Common, in 1946, the sight of Henry Miles slanting across the wide river of rain, or did these images choose me? It is convenient, it is correct according to the rules of my craft to begin just there, but if I had believed then in a God, I could also have believed in a hand, plucking at my elbow, a suggestion, 'speak to him: he hasn't seen you yet.'
For why should I have spoken to him? If hate is not too large a term to use in relation to any human being, I hated Henry -I hated his wife Sarah too. And he, I suppose, came soon after the events of that evening to hate me:as he surely at times must have hated his wife and that other, in whom in those days we were lucky enough not to believe. So this is a record of hate far more than love, and if I come to say anything in favour of Henry and Sarah I can be trusted: I am writing against the bias because it is my professional pride to prefer the near-truth, even to the expression of my near hate."
BOOK ONE
"A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead. I say 'one chooses' with the inaccurate pride of a professional writer who - when he has been seriously noted at all - has been praised for his technical ability, but do I in fact of my own will choose that black wet January night on the Common, in 1946, the sight of Henry Miles slanting across the wide river of rain, or did these images choose me? It is convenient, it is correct according to the rules of my craft to begin just there, but if I had believed then in a God, I could also have believed in a hand, plucking at my elbow, a suggestion, 'speak to him: he hasn't seen you yet.'
For why should I have spoken to him? If hate is not too large a term to use in relation to any human being, I hated Henry -I hated his wife Sarah too. And he, I suppose, came soon after the events of that evening to hate me:as he surely at times must have hated his wife and that other, in whom in those days we were lucky enough not to believe. So this is a record of hate far more than love, and if I come to say anything in favour of Henry and Sarah I can be trusted: I am writing against the bias because it is my professional pride to prefer the near-truth, even to the expression of my near hate."
12/16/08
WORD REINTRODUCTION! IXNAY!
I am reintroducing the word IXNAY into my vocabulary! It's Pig-Latin I am told. I like the sound of it! It certainly sounds like a banishment!
12/9/08
Quote from JOHN BY CYNTHIA LENNON (On the Anniversary of John Lennon's death)
JOHN
By CYNTHIA LENNON C 2005
Crown Publishers New York
Pages 5-6-7 (Chapter One)
"One early December afternoon in 1980 my friend Angie and I were in the little bistro we ran in north Wales, putting up the Christmas decorations. It was a cold dark afternoon, but the atmosphere inside was bright and warm. We'd opened a bottle of wine and were hanging baubles on the tree and festive pictures on the walls. Laughing, we pulled a cracker and the toy inside fell onto the floor. I bent to pick it up and shivered when I saw it was a small plastic gun. It seemed horribly out of place among the tinsel and paper chains...
(Cynthia proceeded to London where she was staying with Mo Starkey, Beatles drummer Ringo Starr's (Starkey) first wife.)
"I was asleep in the spare room when screams woke me. It took me a few seconds to realize that they were Mo's. At that moment she burst into the room: "Cyn, John's been shot. Ringo's on the phone - he wants to talk to you."
"I don't remember getting out of bed and going down the stairs to the phone. But Ringo's words, the sound of his tearful voice crackling over the transatlantic line, is crystal clear." Cyn, I'm so sorry, John's dead."
"The shock engulfed me like a wave. I heard a raw, tearing sob and,. with that strange detachment that sudden shock can trigger, realized I was making the noise. Mo took the phone, said goodbye to Ringo, then put her arms around me. "I'm so sorry, Cyn," she sobbed.
"In my stunned state I had only one clear thought. My son - our son- was at home in bed: I had to get back so that I could tell him about his father's death. he was seventeen and history was repeating itself in a hideous way:both John and I had lost a parent at that age."
By CYNTHIA LENNON C 2005
Crown Publishers New York
Pages 5-6-7 (Chapter One)
"One early December afternoon in 1980 my friend Angie and I were in the little bistro we ran in north Wales, putting up the Christmas decorations. It was a cold dark afternoon, but the atmosphere inside was bright and warm. We'd opened a bottle of wine and were hanging baubles on the tree and festive pictures on the walls. Laughing, we pulled a cracker and the toy inside fell onto the floor. I bent to pick it up and shivered when I saw it was a small plastic gun. It seemed horribly out of place among the tinsel and paper chains...
(Cynthia proceeded to London where she was staying with Mo Starkey, Beatles drummer Ringo Starr's (Starkey) first wife.)
"I was asleep in the spare room when screams woke me. It took me a few seconds to realize that they were Mo's. At that moment she burst into the room: "Cyn, John's been shot. Ringo's on the phone - he wants to talk to you."
"I don't remember getting out of bed and going down the stairs to the phone. But Ringo's words, the sound of his tearful voice crackling over the transatlantic line, is crystal clear." Cyn, I'm so sorry, John's dead."
"The shock engulfed me like a wave. I heard a raw, tearing sob and,. with that strange detachment that sudden shock can trigger, realized I was making the noise. Mo took the phone, said goodbye to Ringo, then put her arms around me. "I'm so sorry, Cyn," she sobbed.
"In my stunned state I had only one clear thought. My son - our son- was at home in bed: I had to get back so that I could tell him about his father's death. he was seventeen and history was repeating itself in a hideous way:both John and I had lost a parent at that age."
12/3/08
I'm Reading THE DUMBEST GENERATION by MARK BAUERLEIN
This book promises to tell us how the "digital age stupefies Young Americans and Jeopardizes Our Future" and Harold Bloom is cover quoted as saying that this is THE VIRTUAL END OF READING among the young.
I love reading so much! But I wonder if the author suffers from generational prejudice. Is it that young people are not reading BOOKS but reading on the NET?
I love reading so much! But I wonder if the author suffers from generational prejudice. Is it that young people are not reading BOOKS but reading on the NET?
12/1/08
RAMAKRISHNA Quote
"The more you advance toward God, the less He will give you wordly duties to perform..."
-Ramakrishna
-Ramakrishna
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