SkoobyDoo wrote:How long you been writing short stories?
Why you ask?
My writing skills lacking or decent?
You know Scooby, I was a high school drop out "after 6 High Schools"
when I got myself together, I went back to school (adult school) and
that's were I got my G.E.D. and later on my Diploma. It was during
that time that one of my class instructors took note of what I wrote.
Back then it was words of a young man's revolutionary vision on life.
I never pursued writing, never had the real incentive to improve on
my studies. I went on the road instead, travelled far and wide, saw
civil war and real poverty first hand. Every place I could hop a ride
or catch a train to see, I hopped on and I rode. Days and nights at
a time. I hungered to witness the world and how people lived outside
of my concrete jungle. Everywhere I went, I was not one to stay in
the safe tourist spots, nah, that was not my interest. I wanted to see
the real people and how they carried themselves in their daily dread.
Travelling and being away from the homegrounds gave me releif and
respite from my own every day nothingness. I learned to feel for other
people's, not as blessed as we are here in this abundant America. I saw
tender hearts and caring folks in the most poorest of places. Folks that
had no bloodstain on their hands, like I carried. Folks that fed me and
guided me in my journeys. I saw the difference between rhetoric and
being real. I ate, I slept, I spoke, I saw, I learned and I shared with
many many people from all walks of life. I spent time sleeping in cars,
sleeping in trucks, sleeping next to a camp fire, sleeping on a concrete
or dirt floor. I walked through dark sinister streets and I walked through
crowded uncaring streets. I's spent months at a time on the road. Some
times with money taped up on me, sometimes just hitching a ride and
seeking out some work. For a time, my own Homeboys began to call me
the ghost, because I would disapear for months at a time without saying
a word to anyone. I'd call my folks, days after I'd take off. My mom used
to be a traveller herself, maybe I got this from her. Sometimes when I
knew that she would be heading to this or that city, I would meet up with
her there. Sometimes with the intention of obtaining some dollars off of
her. Othertimes just to get a ride back with her and my pops. She never
kept me from exploring and I never really asked for permission, nor was
I ever a burden, economically that is. I always took good care of myself
and the Lord always watched out for me. I can honestly say, that the only
times I was ever in real trouble or got myself wounded, it was always
around my homegrounds, never on the road. All except one time when I
got punctured a couple of times in this come out of nowhere beef. When
I came upon this here site a couple of years ago, it was while I was asked
by a good friend of mine, who always be going down to L.A., to draw him
up a map of the East Side Gang Turfs since he knew that I lived there for
half my life. I said to him that a lot had changed since my times, but that
I would do my best and get him his map. Then I got myself involved in
some of the discussions concerning what Sur meant and what 13 signified
etc, etc. It sparked a dormant fire within me, it re-opened my soul to a
part of me that still clung to the Homeboys life. Seen so many around me,
family members and friends, all living within the framework of the Barrio,
I realized that I knew things and understood some things better than
others and I began to put it into words. It became a task for me to write
and compile as much as I can possibly amass for the world to learn up
and for the next generations to never forget. So many Homeboys have
laid down their lifes and so many lifes have been wasted, many more
locked up for life or their opportunities cut short for what I asked? There
must be a reason behind it all which gives it value and gives it meaning.
And in fact, there is, and much of it. The problem is, that is not much
given thought, therefore, it is not understood by most. But once you begin
I mean really begin to understand it, then things become clearer and one
is able to de-escalate from the straight madness that has take hold of the
Homeboys crusin' the streets and crashing down on party scenes. Being
Mas Loco doesn't necessarily mean that you go all out,, cause if you do,
then you're not really a Homeboy from the Barrio, instead, you're really
a sick psychopath who hijacked a clean style, a style steeming from a
great heritage, a style derived from a magnificent culture. And that
culture is beautiful, but one needs to really dig underneath, to find out
what it is that we are supposed to represent and uphold. So here is where
I found a part of me, and here is where I dedicate some of my frre time
to put my understanding into words and letters, but being that I'm not
articulate enought or eloquent enough with my thoughts & understanding,
I limit myself to these short stories, hoping to crack into some thick skulls.