Zombie Writes...

I’ve accumulated several journals in which to write.

Don’t expect my pen to ever see the last page of any of them. Such is a habit of mine with any journal or sketchpad I’ve ever owned.

Fresh like a new pack of Crayons to a child. New like a pack of cigarettes for the night out on the town. Crisp like the package of food stamps my mother used to feed our hungry Mexican mouths. Journals that I won’t complete but will most likely keep for years.

In them are not entries, but notes and quotes that are said by random people I run into. Lyrics to a song I hear while working, or driving.

Something Emma did to make me smile.

Unfinished blogs written to ring in the new year and rather than put them together like I usually do I thought I’d try something different.

I’ll just type them for you exactly as they are written in any one of my three journals.

12/25/07 Zombie writes...

South on Fremont to Monterey Pass Road from Muerta’s warm bed…

Industry becoming…

Past Cesar Chavez Blvd. I see Andy’s Porn Shop off of Whittier Blvd.

Turn left to visit my daughter on Christmas Morning.

Tamales. Red Beef. Green w/Cheese. Dulce Brown w/ Rasins and Pineapple.

I want to decline a gift from hands that tore me apart.

I hold my composure.

12/26/07 Zombie writes…

Futility. Fight yourself for Christ’s sake motherfucker.

He got let go because of his drug addiction. Why didn’t he listen to us?

12/27/07 Zombie writes…

I see dead people.

Emma keeps pointing at nothing and talking to something we can’t see.

Mia takes pictures of it all.

Someone moved all the chairs from under the table but we were all in the front of the house.

I aint fraid a no ghost!

1/4/2008 Zombie writes…

J- I love you so much.

V-I love you too Joshua

J- But I’m not in love with you.

V- Good, neither am I.

We smile.

1/13/2008

Softer and sweeter than…

Was it a lie from the beginning?

Thats a very long time to lie.

1-14-2008 Zombie writes…

The morning’s tint gives the break room a light blue glow to contrast the cookie cutter corporate design of the tables and chairs. Another Airplane takes off and the sound of it rattles the window as I sip my coffee.

Happy Aniversary?

1/21/2008 Zombie writes…

They’re moving in.

How did that happen?

A fire?

If I had known I would have done something to help the situation. Honestly.

No, I don’t mind if you bump coke in the parking lot. Why the fuck would I mind?

Today Zombie writes…

Someone once told me our chapter ended. But the thing is I was still fucking writing the novel when the book was shut on me.

I should make this into some sort of blog, might be fun.