Category Archives: identity

few things I’ve learned

from my perspective situations are rarely what they seem most things we hold dear a trifles work done with my own hands is tangible the Interwebs is entertaining, and mostly a waste of time surfing is riding waves – nothing more family and personal relationships are more important than most other things over the last [...]
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#identity part VI: this is it

summer comes to an end and so does the time spent hanging off ladders with brush and paint helping Picasso work on his livable canvases. what now? there was a time when I was naively carefree. I would go about my days without any intentionality and never felt like something was amis. those days are [...]
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#identity: part V – the surfer/hipster

I’m going to skip around in the identity chronology because the topic of being a “surfer” has been circling around my noggin like buzzards over carrion. recently I had an email echange with a post doc student on the topic of identity. she is researching identity as it relates to the web. she had this [...]
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#identity part IV: Gringo Latino poem

this is a poem I wrote a while back. it continues along the thought tracks of identity that I’ve been working on lately. Gringo Latino I carried the sewing machine through Tampa International it was 1987 and we dressed like ‘79 my brother’s arms too were loaded with things that would not be left behind [...]
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#Identity part III: the break

this is a continuation of a series on identity I started a few weeks ago. 1999- 2000 from August of 1999 until December of 2000 I was completely lost inna haze of mal-prescribed psychopharmcalogy, high-grade trees, and booze. for several months I didn’t work and instead smoked a lot cigarettes, drank excessively, surfed little, smoked [...]
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identity: part II

I can claim 3 nationalities, all of which celebrate their respective independence in the first week of July. perhaps the hot days of June lead up to revolutions and war.
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identity: part I

1975 – 1987 I was born in a hospital room in Valera, a small hot and humid city in the state of Trujillo, Venezuela. my American mother was alone when I arrived, my father not allowed to be there. old school. my father was just recovering from a near death auto accident. t-boned by a [...]
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