Did I Mention the Brain Has No Internet

More notes from the brain:

I have been without the internet for around 10 days or so and I have been writing in my notebook more and more lately. Because of Stine’s recommendations I am partial to the Moleskine notebooks–I like their large notebooks and though I once laughed at Hugo and his very specific–almost eccentric listing and discussing of his writing instruments–I do now understand. I mean I must write with the uniball vision elite 5.0 pen from Wal-Mart–I have only been able to find them at Wal-Mart. I like the flat large notebooks and the soft shell and the large tan pages. I used to like the yellow legal pads and I liked to fill them with freewriting and notes but I mostly only hand write in the Moleskin books–I bought a pack of three one day and filled up one with the Huerfano project and now I am beginning a second with the Cornbread project. I like the notebooks as they make me feel like I am accomplishing quite a bit even though I might only be getting down one or two pages at a time–they make me feel as if I am plotting out actions and events rather than a final project which I will leave for the laptop. I don’t draft on the laptop as much as I used to–well I do draft on it I guess it is all a matter of feel. I sat in the backyard of the Abuelitos a couple of summers ago and drafted Huerfanos and now I can sit and draft Cornbread.

For those of you following along I completed another two chapters here over the break–I finished up the chapter on Rosalie–Rudy’s wife–and I am beginning the chapter on Cynthia Otero. The research of Otero’s death is so cold and flat–she was shot through Baca’s front door and died in the hospital a few days later–the articles read the shooting that led to the death as if they might not be directly related. Anyway I have a few pages of notes on that that will soon be chapter 18 and 19.

I also spent some time driving around the east side here looking for the tamale lady– I did thislast year in a blizzard for the ABuelito and this year I did it for my sister. The tamale lady lives on the east side and I spent more time driving around to get a sense of Baca’s old haunts. I wanted to go to the church where he was accused of beating up on his girlfriend and her niece but didn;t have the time. Hopefully this wil give me the burst of energy and dare I say inspiration I need to finish up these crucial passages now that I think I know what is going to happen.

For those of you who care–Rudy is with Bea and Baca finds out about it from Manito or Romes–I haven’t decided that just yet. Oh and Romes returns to give Manito a hard time about wanting to go to college and for not hitting on Bea.

More notes from the brain and chapters to come…

Published by john paul jaramillo

John Paul Jaramillo was born and raised in southern Colorado. His stories and essays have appeared in numerous publications, including the Acentos Review, Palabra, A Magazine of Chicano and Latino Literary Art, and most recently in Duende. His collection The House of Order: Stories was named an International Latino Book Award Finalist and his novel in stories Little Mocos is forthcoming from Twelve Winters Press. In 2013 the editors of Latino Boom: An Anthology of U.S. Latino Literature listed Jaramillo as one of its Top 10 New Latino Authors to Watch and Read.

2 Comments

  1. Travels with Jerky December 31, 2008 at 2:12 am

    Soon, soon, back to the nets and uszz. ❤

    Reply

  2. Still in P-town? Yesterday I was down there attending a funeral. An eighty one year old father of one of Jay’s aunts. Whenever we found ourselves at the same place, we discussed philosophy and poetry. He told me about this old time radio program that used to end with a poem, “Moon River.” He lamented, saying, “God, I wish I could get a hold of that poem . . .” Naturally, I had to find find it for him. He always remembered that gesture of kindness from The Poet. I read the poem to his family at Mt. Carmel yesterday morning. Later that afternoon, I and my two girls drove through City Park, and then I had my now sixteen year old take the wheel while I directed her through the streets of Bessemer–the tamale lady on East side . . . well, we have one in Bessemer. Her name is Carmen. But we ended our day at Pass Key’s. Again, no point here. Just nice to see the images from your work come alive with something so familiar. So sorry about tu abuelita. Mucho suerte con tu ecribiendo.

    Reply

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