Story Archives 2000

by Joseph Bolden

Ok,a column about as Mr. Will Smith would say on "Hotness"

Everyone has their unique definition on this subject because Ms. Tiny aka Lisa also hales from Los Angeles there’s a "Hollywood Glam factor added.

Being hot has expanded for so many people, from so many places that’s its difficult to pin it down so I won’t.

When one works for and is friend any person for a period of time one observes many facets of an individual.

Tiny is a genuienly multifacited individual whether it be in her work as Co to publisher of Poor Magazine, instructor of interns in the ways of media capture, in the Daily PNN brain center P-M central reinterpretation/recasting news or "The News That Doesn’t Fit into mainstreams bottom line.

AS poet, interviewer/ee on PNN and KPFA’s morning show (bottom half (7:30am) hour near or on the last day of each month.

Finally, when she lets her hair down, don’s party clothes and lets loose on the dance floor tranforming into diva surpreme sizzling, burning up dance floors where ever she goes. It is a mighty sexy sight to behold!

However for the four letters emailed to me about how hot she is… Well, this does not immedietly occure to me.

We first met before even the concept of Poor Magazine gleamed in Mama Dee’s or Lisa’s minds.

A few years later in a cramp place the nucleus began
as their join dream-process radical in scope, inconcievable in its objective: For regular Poor People to have a voice,
break into media with solutions they know because of living, surviving through poverties harsh lessons.

Giving technical access to those most in need and denied as automatically unworthy.

Its still an uphill hazzardous battle.

Someone with that much going against her from her youth with her mother guiding her and then Tiny returning the feirce love infinitely back is profoundly, deep, being grounded in
reality gives on the power to let loose when the need arrises and Tiny was and is in need of release at times from the work she’s constantly does.

Me, it had not occurred to me to even dream of my former boss and friend in this light.

Call me naieve we were way to serious and both of us had our own private housing, rent, food, and dating concerns.

Honestly she was not my type though pretty with yellow-red hair,

her endomorphicLook it up folks dancer-fit-figure isn’t what I go for and besides being my boss she’d could’ve been the harraser not I.

Have I mentioned she was into kick boxing at the time?

While my rusty Tai Kwon Do would be to slow the best I could do is block the faster hands and dash away sprinting at top speed.

For the four people who’ve sent the letters to me about getting with HOT TINY, sorry to say she’s taken by an equally if not more Hotty Guy eye candy.

That’s what other people call him though he does have movie star looks, he too has faced challenges,
dedicated to

‘Po folks access and fixing the social/political inequities.

I guess that makes him a tripple hottie in Tiny’s eyes.

At this time another person arrived who’s youthful misteps, slight errors in judgement due to both inexperience and experience has some family members write her off as lost to the streets.

Few keow if they’ed only gave her a chance to explain some of her dire actions.

As a world traveler with her family and later on her on she lived on the street,

surving as best she could helped and was helped by friends she’s grown up with in San Francisco.

There are too many accomplishments to go into all I can say at one point she could’ve been killed by an abusive adult or boyfriend(s).

As one of many youth commissioner encouraged by Jewnbug another struggling youth and mother-to-be Ms.

Mari Villaluna has met challenges many other youths may have fallen never to be heard from again.

After surving harrowing experiences this veteran
yes, she’s also a veteran peiced her life together

Part of it was working with Poor Magazine while a Youth Commissioner at City Hall in San Francisco, attending City College of San Francisco, and later as graduate of Mills Women’s College in Oakland.

The young woman had a lot to accomplish because she felt she missed so much.

Parts of precious, irreplaceable childhood gone which she suffer from still.

At one time this dyamic dynamo of a feminine strength and super,no hyperhuman willpower at one time thought herself not worthy of Mills College!

This is why I feel privilidged and proud to be one her many friends.

In a small way I was able to help her see that

she is errily,scary, smart,to take advantage of higher education and not worry about her family,
or what some friends may say its your life and you must live it!

Yes, I admit to dreaming of her at times.
(I’m a normal guy) she’s a young adult looking younger than her hard years would tell guess being a vegetarian help slow aging process a little.

We didn’t go on dates but sometimes needed to be accompanied to bars because after days or weeks of
difficult legislation drawn up, fought over, changed, win, lose, or draw Mari had get her dance on!

Yes, Ive danced a bit,nowhere near as sexy, spicey, as she but have my ways. "Joe, You Can Move!"

"I close my eyes, let the rythms move me."

Have to day "Damn, the girl, uh young woman either gained or lost weight from Taiwan visit always has a cute curvy figure and a back that most black and brown guys drool over.

And thick too, I admit to admiring both front and backside platonic friend or not she's that bomb sexy even waring glasses she sex bomb!been wanting say that but it would frighten her but now I can say it and she's to far away to kill me.

I think she calls me Uncle even when I don’t think uncle thoughts about her.

Because of her past, present, the way she survived, surpassed everyones expectations, and what she still
suffers from as a young woman of mixed heritage which includes Iroqoui/Ph-Fillipina/Spanish and S.F. born.

All the above makes her extremely (HOT–SEXY in my view and to my eyes.

Years past, don’t know the event someone is elected for somehing Mari and I go into a bar, a Lesbian or Gayelle
1. adj. Adv. Feminine form of gay meaning homosexual.
2. Noun Gay and Female member of a group or movement that prefers to called Gayelle rather than Lesbial (for more info on this go to: www.feastoffools.net/community/topic

In this bar I’m cool, writing stuff while petite Mari who’s a girly girl (attractive feminine )kind of woman is also attracting Gayelles just being her femmy self she has a few friends she wanted to see.

I’m about to play some pool, didn’t have money to buy any beer. Mari wants leave.

Just as I’m about to play a woman I don’t know if she had substantial rack or not but she being gayelle won’t distract me though I’d enjoy the veiw.
(I repeat I’m a guy if any woman is stretching her sweater or has deep cleavage from bra or braless showing I’m peeking that’s just me.

There lots of striking, heart stop beautiful gayelles just because I cannot touch don’t mean I won’t look they know that.

Beauty is beauty I’m only human!

Some gayelles are so freaky beautiful can make any straight guys heart leap. some wym's are just that way truth be told.

Problem is my gayelle radar is faulty, I can easily fall for either bi wym/s or gayelles.

At the time it funny that gayelles were drooling over this hot girly girl straight femmy and couldn’t have a taste, maybe she experimented in high school/college and that was it for her.

For me that’s the ultimate compliment, to be wanted by her own sex and finding a no-deal situation.

It soothes me a down a lot after years of tourching for her,
(sorry I lied about that)
seeking other women to block her out my mind.

She’s still a very sensuous, sensual, sexy, femmy dynamo who’s radar makes her choosy about with men sometimes it's faulty too.

she’ll let some into her life either for fun, long short relationships or soul mate for life.

The Longest Walk continues and I pray for her and people on the walk to stay safe and comfort each other and that from whatever harm.

Mari is healing from personal hurts, I’ll always have her back as she’s had mine.

Again pray she returns to Washington safe, sound, reinvigorarted.

The four letter writers to me sorry but I have say Ms.Villaluna is
SMOLDERING HOT!

To Mari, my deepest apologies, unless you get lots of dates from this especially if a few of your Hot friends date healthy elder goats like me.

I gave it a shot, I’m a horny, elder straight guy.

Just as Tiny is in her own way is very hot I think of a few other women just as HOT

keeping that to myself.

Thanks for writing to me.

by Gloria Esteva--Voces de Inmigrantes en Resistencia

Editors Note:

PNN recognizes that all peoples are impacted when any of our children are denied their basic human and civil rights.

PNN reconoce que toda la gente es impactada cuando cualquiera de nuestros hij@s son negados los derechos humanos y civiles básicos.

Scroll Down for English

San Francisco, una bella cuidad santuario. Ahora los es por todo lo que implica la palabra santuario y por toda la lucha que hizo la comunidad en los ochentas, para lograr este privilegio. En ese tiempo, grupos civiles, políticos y religiosos viendo cuanto sufrimiento estaba provocando las guerras en Centro América vieron la necesidad de dar refugio a miles de personas que se vieron empujadas y desplazadas, y que llegaron en grandes cantidades a este país.

La póliza de la ciudad santuario menciona que todas las personas en San Francisco tienen derecho a recibir servicios sociales en escuelas o refugios sin que su información de inmigración sea revelada—a menos que la persona lo autorice; o sea, que se respetaría su privacidad. Además, la policía no debe de cooperar con migración ni en investigaciones, ni a detener a los inmigrantes, solamente que haya delitos graves o exista una orden federal.

Esta la puerta abierta de nuestra ciudad santuario y muchos seres egoístas quieren cerrarla para dejar que este logro de nuestras luchas se desplome y de paso a al odio, la ignominia, violando este precepto que ha hecho que esta ciudad reciba a tantos seres que han contribuido con su trabajo artístico cultural y mano de obra barata. ¿Que la hace bella, especial y por esto mas atractiva?

Porque aunque no se reconozca, los sabios y los economistas saben de donde surge la riqueza de este país y esto surge en gran parte de los trabajadores inmigrantes de todas partes del mundo.

Y si somos productores de riqueza porque no se respeta nuestra vida y la vida de nuestros hijos y nuestros jóvenes? ¿Donde esta el respeto a la Justicia? ¿Existe esta para los trabajadores pobres inmigrantes y sus familias?

Por lo tanto, lo que propone el Supervisor David Campos es algo lógico y sencillo que hasta el mas sabio no puede combatir por lo que esta planteando, algo que ya esta establecido en la leyes de este país, que nadie es culpable hasta que se demuestre o lo determine un juez. ¿Y porque no se puede aplicar esto a las vidas de todos nuestros jóvenes documentados o indocumentados? Al permitirse que la policía entregue a los jóvenes a la migración sin previo juicio se les esta tratando sin respetar la calidad de nuestra ciudad santuario.

Ingles Sigue

San Francisco, a beautiful Sanctuary City. It is today, due to what the word sanctuary implies and for the entire struggle that the community in the 1980s fought through to gain this privilege. At that time, civil groups, politicians and religious organizations saw the necessity of giving refuges to thousands of people who suffered, were pushed and displaced by consequence of the civil wars in Central America.

The Sanctuary City policy mentions that all people in San Francisco have the right to seek social services, in schools or shelters, without having to reveal their documentation status—only if the individual authorizes it; this is to say that their privacy is respected. Even though, the police should not be collaborating with immigration in investigations, or arresting immigrants, only if there is a felony or a federal charge.

The door to our Sanctuary City is open, but many selfish people want to close it, allowing that the success of our struggle to dismantle; this leads to a path of hate, ignominy, where violation the perception that has allowed this city to have so much contribution from artistic and cultural workers, and cheap human labor. What makes this city so beautiful, special, and more attractive?

Although, it is not recognized, the scholars and economist know what are the roots of this country’s wealth. The roots stem in large part from the immigrant workers from all parts of the world.

If we are the producers of so much wealth, why is it that our lives and that of our youth are not respected? Where is the respect for Justice? Does this exist for all the poor workers and their families?

For these reasons, what Supervisor David Campos proposes is logical and simple, that even the most intellectual politician cannot compete with what he is tabling, something that is already established in the laws of this country, that “everyone is innocent until proven guilty.” Why can’t this stay consistent with the lives of our youth, documented or undocumented? If we allow the police to turn over the youth to immigration without due process, the essence of the sanctuary law is not being respected.

PNN Voces de Inmigrantes en Resistencia reportera Teresa Molina, Margaretta Ramos and Ruyata Akio McGLothlin interviewed Board Supervisor David Campos on the legislation he is proposing.

La reportera de PNN Voces de Inmigrantes en Resistencia, Teresa Molina, Margaretta Ramos, y Ruyata Akio McGlothilin entrevistaron al Supervisor David Campos sobre la legislación.

by Joseph Bolden

Californians are going through rough times while Texans are living easy. But I don't blame Texans; that's not right, fair, or the American way.

Cali's been called the Fruit 'N Nut state since I don't know when. Mr. Dennis Tito is excluded from any criticism, afterall, he knew the risks of space travel, but knew that is could be done. Any Texans goin' to the Moon or Mars? Yes, our Fruit 'N Nut status began way before San Francisco became the state's painted lady. Like gruff multimillionaire doers and dreamers, like Texans, we have our pride. We do things up different; we're not as big a state as you, but we are as unique.

Yes, we fell off our high horse in a canyon where no one hears our calls for help. Think this affects only "those pussyfooted, lily-livered, granola eatin', holly-weird, strangely dressed, crazy idea folk up in Northern California? Think again.

Imagine, if the shoe were on the other foot. Prez Clinton is in Texas for a 20-minute talk about oil and gas with Governor G.W. Bush. Texas is feeling pressured to buy oil at ever-inflated prices from Arab oil cartels and is being gouged with higher electric bills by California's P.U.C. companies who are constantly upping heating oil prices.

Clinton says, "Keep conserving, drill along the pan handle or in the Alamo historical site, because of the rich crude oil deposits found there; transport wild horses and buffalo from their grazing grounds." He doesn't mention renewable, alternative energies. He says, "Conserve and keep paying Cali and Arkansas."

We love whales and dolphins, just as you love horses, buffalo, and the great God's country. We are different people in different situations, but we share the same country. The same situation could happen to you. Just think on it awhile. Wouldn't you feel offended at so little time being spent on problems looming so large in your state? We got twenty minutes for an energy crisis that is slowly spreading across this country.

Texas and the legendary Texans have shown what independence means. You can to do it again by developing alternative renewable energies. You are the Giants of oil, gas, and electricity. You can show our President Bush that it's time to move ahead not drift backwards.

That's enough from a transplanted New Yorker in the Flake State, but please heed my warning-alternate and renewable energy is coming quick. California is hurting now but once we're free of the national grid I don't want to hear that Texas is experiencing rolling brown and blackouts:

THIS IS A CALL TO ALL 50 STATES DEVELOP INDEPENDENT ENERGY PROTOCOLS-NOT GOVERNMENT OR STATE BASED ONES.

I hope I don't sound like a lone radical anus but it might be what we have to do. Tell me if I sound like a complete idiot.

Please send donations to Poor Magazine C/0 Ask Joe
at 255 9th St. Street,
San Francisco, CA. 94103 USA

For Joe only my snail mail:
PO Box 1230 #645 Market St.
San Francisco, CA 94102
Email:askjoe@poormagazine.org

by John X/PNN Community Journalist

A few weeks ago I was staying in a shelter here in the city and me and one of the staff got into an argument that ultimately led to the police being called. This is a short story and history lesson for what happened. Hopefully some insight and knowledge will flow from this to help the entire shelter and S.R.O community.

Upon engaging this staff person in this argument I decided to call the police since I was told I was going to be " put the fuck out". I called the police and explained a staff person was going to put me out of a shelter of which I had a contract with management (CASE MANAGER) for services for this facility.

To avoid any more problems or confrontations I waited at the bottom of the stairs inside the facility for the police to arrive. A senior manager arrived and asked me why I was at the bottom of the stairs after curfew. I advised this person a staff member had thrown me out of the facility or at least had threatened to do so and I was waiting for the police. He briefly stated " she can't do that" and "give me a minute and I will talk to her".
I waited at the bottom of the stairs for his return while at the same time wondering where San Francisco's Finest were at.

A few minutes later the senior manager came back to the top of the stairwell area and stated " you have been denied services and you have to wait on the outside of the gate for the police." This is where it becomes interesting, as I agreed to comply again to avoid any confrontation or even appearance of confrontation with this facilities staff.

Upon arrival of the police their was a great debate as to what the staff wanted as opposed to me, the person who had actually called for the police intervention.

With 4 officers, 2 police, 1 sergeant and the acting lieutenant for the station we all began the discussion not in my return to the property, but exactly in what manner or fashion I was to not be allowed to return. The lieutenant told me that they had not removed me from the property (I removed myself when I stepped outside the gate) but at the same time had no authorization to return me. We argued back and forth a bit and the only thing I was told was they could assist me in removing or gaining access to whatever property I had in the facility but would not assist in any matter with my return as the matter was now civil in nature. I attempted in vain to explain to the police that I had a contract with this facility between myself and the case manger thus " by invitation of resident or management" I was allowed to be on the property. However this proved to be useless and went absolutely nowhere. After this 20 minute interchange I was told matter -of- factly by the police there was nothing they could or would do to assist me and I was out and they were leaving, period!

Since I had nothing better to do, (sleeping now not on the agenda) I decided to take a walk to 850 Bryant street. I spoke with the lieutenant for the station and had asked him how it was that the police could use the term " agent or representative" to give the shelter staff the authority to remove someone but for the purposes of enforcement for a violation (my unlawful removal and failure to allow re-entry) the case was now a civil matter.

The lieutenant could not explain the interchange of the two to any degree of validity and finally went to his office and came back with section 602 n of the California penal code. He had originally attempted to state that these "shelter type" facilities have their policies and procedures and under those procedures can lawfully remove someone as they chose from the property.

He was absolutely unequivocally wrong! When he returned he handed me a copy of 602 n and in short this is what it states. After reading the entire section the last paragraph reads " however this subdivision shall not apply to persons on the premises who are engaging in activities protected by the state or federal constitution, or persons who are on the premises at the request of a resident or management and who are not loitering or otherwise suspected of violating or actually violating any law or ordinance".

What this means or meant for me was this. When I had the argument with the staff I was invoking my first amendment rights (freedom of speech), also I was not charged by the police with "violation of any law or ordinance" i.e. penal code 415 - disturbing the peace.Also I had permission (request) to be on premises by management by my contract with case management for services. As such I was entitled to be present on this property. I was also entitled to have the staff attendee charged with violation of 602 n and if necessary then removed from the property for violation of 602 n and legally if staff refused to leave property also arrested and charged with standard trespassing (Penal Code 602) and criminal trespassing (Penal Code 602.5). Though I was denied any of this, I have learned that civil remedies are available to me for the police department refusing to take any actions on my behalf that I was legally and constitutionally entitled to.
Now what this means for you someone in an S.R.O environment is this. First, let me explain how this section works so you can better understand how it could fit into your situation. The rules for single room occupancies are just that, rules. Not laws or ordinances just rules. The best example I can give you is this, municipal code 25 (sleeping in doorways) is a city ordinance. That ordinance allows the police without the owner to be present on the property to remove and arrest any person found sleeping in their doorway for the state penal code (law) of trespassing 602 PC. Because again local ordinance municipal penal code 25 has been violated.

You have a right to use your space as you see fit as long as you are not in violation "of any law or ordinance" period !. This covers overnight guests, visitors (local-out of town) etc. You are paying to stay there. Your rights can not be infringed upon by anyone.
Unless the rules or policies for San Francisco single room occupancies has been standardized and local ordinances have been created with hearings held by the Board of Supervisors with voter approval and ratified they all are illegal and unconstitutional and could and should be challenged in federal court.

Now how this applies to proposition N is quit simple. Prop N states that any recipient on assistance who is in non compliance with a policy of a shelter provider and is removed from a shelter facility will be considered to be in non compliance with the requirements for his/her general assistance and will be removed from the general assistance program.
As a note, I have kept copies of the original legislative version as proof to this statement
" For the record".

.None of these shelters or single room occupancies have any laws or ordinances that support the actions of which some of the management and staff take. Although it has been stated that numerous homeless service provider organizations worked in collaboration with the Board of Supervisors on " acceptable policies and procedures " none of those procedures or policies are constitutional and can not be upheld if held to any degree of legal scrutiny of which I emplore this readership to do. It should be noted that federal law on this in two specific areas is quit clear. First, title 18 U.S.C (United States Code) Sect. 241 makes it a crime to conspire to deprive someone of their civil rights. Title 18 U.S.C Sect. 242 makes it a crime to deprive a person of any right under color of law. This section applies to everything from judges to appointed or elected city ,county or state officials (including police officers)in official capacities. I remind this readership that proposition N was drafted by "lawyers" and the rules of the city S.R.O'S was drafted by , supported and approved by the Board of Supervisors. Probably the most important point I should make to this readership is the following, federal law precludes any group,organization,or government body from creating any rule or law that is either know or to be know as unconstitutional. If it is found that any group,organization or government has created a rule or law that is found to be unconstitutional in any regard that law is to be considered immediately voided. As it is the position of the federal government that no one is to be held whether knowingly or unknowingly to any rule or law that violates any of the constitutional protections of any citizen of the United States Government. If we allow proposition N to pass we will continue to allow this city to bash the civil right of a group of people who continues to have less and less of a voice in this city except by "poverty pimps" who claim to be working for the interests of the indigent but at the same time non of them has taken the time to present a story of this type to this many people with as much of a potential legal and financial impact as I, John X, have.

by Joseph Bolden

Living A Life

Recently my age double five still alive.

It occurs to me I’ve missed opportunities, which may have saved my life at various crossroads in my life.

Nearly drowned at Orchard Beach at 5 or 6 years old I think a girl or young woman saved me.

Saw no bright lights, did feel calm floating around.

Volunteered for Viet Nam in 1972 or 3 at the age of 18 or 19 the usual reasons no job, leaving home,the military makes men, or to do something with my life.

Anyway I volunteered at four branches of the military plus The Air National Guard.

Was turned down because of a lazy eye

[told to drink plenty of carrot juice.]

All it did was make my stool orange and learned I liked carrot juice, cookies, and cake.

It could have been after being asked,
“What if you are ordered to shoot a man?”

My answer was “Why, what reason to do that?”

I guess that's the wrong way to answer a direct question because in the circumstances
when given an order one’s duty is to obey without question any or most orders when given by a superior or higher ranking officer.

Not being a perfect specimen because of faulty sight may have indeed saved me from that war.

Also while exercising that involves jumping up and down I may have been too enthusiastic jumping too high and across the floor.

Oh well I did volunteer so it’s one of those fateful choices that could change anyone’s life.

Before that bad times in summer camp sponsored by New York's Our Lady Of Mercy Church.

Bright yellow shirt green writing stenciled on.

Pain connected memories.

I'm fighting another kid.

With a fear churning belly, backed up for room to fight, then I’m stuck!

I had backed into a nail.
impale or Impaled! don't which is right but I couldn't move!

A wooden box or pallet turned with the nails exposed.

Couldn’t move forward, back shoots shocks of pain through me.

Not knowing this as I fought girls are screaming and gasps from other kids.

Some bigger kids and adults separate us.

Blood drips from the wood on to the ground only then did I see the bent, rusty nail as I with help was pulled slowly forward
from the wooden structure.

My blood gleams seems to glisten in the morning sun.

Little girls scream, crying,touch my back, shoulders as if they feel my pain before I can.

Red seeps from me.

I was thinking its raining feel my back wet.

Girls crying make me sad is all I was thinking.

I’m rushed to the a nurse at the infirmary.

She says its not serious but gave me a tetanus shot.

I still have a jagged scar on my back.

I'm able to go to summer camp, the new hole in my back is no big deal.

Years later when my mother, brother, and I moved I thought it was because of the divorce looking back it may also have been because of that incident.

That wasn’t the only time I was impaled.

Also speared in the throat after giving two quick, hard rabbit punches to some guy thought if funny to take my gym shorts down in public while on a grassy field as everyone was jogging outside?

I rabbit punched him, bloodied his nose.

for me its over, wrong.

The next week was his revenge as I’m speared in the throat by a shopping cart weighed down by football equipment
including two bars used to raise another bar to jump over.

The guy pushes the cart running with it, somebody yells."look out!"

Too late I'm speared in the side of my neck!

I'm on the grass holding my bleeding throat.

It looks worse than it really is.

I Bleed profusely from near the jugular vein is scary.

I always felt my voice had been changed because of that.

It is only now I’m trying to see if I have any singing voice at all.

Girls, women were and still are confounded mysteries always drawn to ‘em but not they to me so missed out on dances, social stuff, graduated danced a little.

Bummed around L.A. just when a psychopath who road the rails hunted and killed transients/
homeless now called houseless folk.

Safe in Mr. and Mrs. Joe’s church/house working for room and board in L.A.’s West End Skid row
before doing the same in The Salvation Army.

I could hear screams for help and wonder was it the railway killer or some guy getting beaten up or worse because they got caught by a gang or someone just wanting beat on someone who has less than they have knowing they’d get away clean because society didn’t care.

Was this the beginning of criminalizing transients, houseless, jobless, and youth creating or increasing more disposable people besides families or single mom’s or dad’s on welfare?

Eventually while learning a skill I did find a few women taking a chance on me.
As for the four letters word of L-O-V-E

I missed that call to me.

As an old movie line says, “What’s sex without love?
“It’s Just sex, it’s just sex.”

Better the latter if the other isn’t meant for us.

Now I’m 55, there are still places to go, visit, people to know.

I know to go forward not backup and avoid sharp objects or persons with sharp objects and really before speaking listen to women most of 'em help too few to mention have hurt me.

So what If I missed some things as a single healthy black male I count myself as rare and lucky in the extreme to still be alive at this stage of the game each day is God/Goddess given gravy.

San Francisco is where I reside for now that may change its all right change is constant.

I’ve tended to go-with-flow, not let too many things up set me.

I pray to live a long vigorous, adventurous, life have many good fem buds and guy friends as well avoiding old grim reaper, faking out Mother Nature for as long as science and technology will allow.

Did any of our lives turn out as we hoped or is it less than we dreamed?

Any comments sent to

telljoe@poormagazine.org or email me at

jsph_bldn@yahoo.com

Yes,my email,I'll try email you back.

by Lizzy

In the Silence, we pray to our Creator

The words that came out, shows what our sister love is all about

The love, caring, and respect we have for one another

Dancing in a circle with our people

Each time our feet touch the earth, the drumbeat bangs with a celebrating sound.

by Picture the Homeless

Nine people were arrested this afternoon by the New York Police Department after occupying a vacant lot for over six hours to press their demand that the city use vacant property to house the homeless.

The protestors want the city to help turn so-called warehoused property into livable homes for low-income and homeless New Yorkers. A survey conducted in 2006 by the advocacy group Picture the Homeless found that 24,000 potential apartments could come out of warehoused property, enough to house the city’s homeless population.

This morning, blue tents were erected on a vacant lot at 115th St. between Madison and Fifth Avenues to create makeshift dwellings for the homeless, as dozens of housing advocates created an festive atmosphere with food, music, art and defiant chants.

“They say gentrify, we say occupy,” the crowd shouted.

Lorenzo Diggs, a member of the Housing Not Warehousing Coalition, led the crowd with a chant of “we are United States citizens, our taxes are our rent, to get off the streets, we’ll fill these lots with tents.”

The action was organized by Picture the Homeless and the Housing Not Warehousing Coalition. A similar protest outside a vacant building in East Harlem was held last March.

“We’re liberating this space for our communities,” thundered Picture the Homeless’ Rob Robinson during a press conference in the afternoon. Robinson was one of those arrested.

At the protest’s peak, an estimated 100 people occupied the vacant lot. Groups on hand to show solidarity included Domestic Workers United and Jews for Racial and Economic Justice.

Picture the Homeless organizer Frank Morales, who was also arrested, said that this particular spot was chosen because JP Morgan Chase, a bank that the federal government bailed out with $25 billion late last year, is involved with the property. JP Morgan Chase is listed as one of two “parties” to the property by the New York City Department of Finance’s City Register, along with Caparra La Nueva Associates, L.P. The bank, which recently posted over $2 billion in profits, paid back the bailout money in June.

“The government and banks have failed miserably. Homeless people know what the problems are, and we have ideas for the solutions. Since they won’t listen, the time is now for people to take action,” said Picture the Homeless member Sophia Bryant. “We’re going to hold this and defend this as long as possible.”

A “homeless fashion show” was held earlier in the afternoon before the arrests were made.

The police seemed to know of the action in advance, as around 10 stood at the Union Square meeting place, one of two, and followed activists onto the subway. More than two dozen officers were on hand at the protest site. At around 5:30 p.m., officers moved in on the occupied lot and made the arrests, according to Tej Nagaraja, Picture the Homeless’ press person.

As housing activists awaited imminent arrest, supporters were rallying and chanting outside the warehoused lot on a sidewalk.

“It is manifestly unjust that trillions of dollars are being handed to banks such as Chase while funds are drying up for affordable housing,” said Nathan Nessen, executive director for Jews for Racial and Economic Justice.

Councilmembers Tony Avella and Melissa Mark-Viverito are drafting legislation that would target warehoused property to convert units into housing for low-income and homeless people. (To read more about warehousing and the legislation, see “Unlocking the Apartment ‘Warehouse’“).

“I can imagine the frustration by Picture the Homeless and other housing groups throughout the entire city that we’re allowing the real estate industry to control the agenda, to warehouse whether it’s vacant properties or legitimate habitable apartments, all for the sake of greed,” said Avella, a mayoral candidate. “Meanwhile, people are going homeless, people can’t afford their rent, so people are going to start taking action into their own hands, and I can’t blame them.”

by George McKibbens

Poor people in New York City are not impressed that Rudolph Guilliani has been voted Person of the Year by Time Magazine or that he has appeared in GQ and Cigar Aficionado. Any mayor who makes homelessness illegal and turns Manhattan into a police state is not in high regard of anyone that lives paycheck to paycheck.

During a recession the efforts of the rich to gentrify parts of the city like Harlem and the East Village backfire. When there are no Dot Com jobs and middle management positions available, landlords are at the mercy of the tenants who are no longer forced to pay over $1000 for a one-room apartment in Queens.

In October of 2001, I finished the tour of my one-man show in Brooklyn (which proved to be an underground success in other cities, but and ultimately lost a lot of money thanks to a bankrupt Brooklyn theater owner). I was sleeping in the attic of a church in Hells Kitchen for three weeks, and every day I was looking for a bartending job. There were none. I looked for retail jobs. There were none. I looked for jobs as a waiter, and wasted $10 applying for a government job. I found an apartment thanks to meeting a Brazilian shuttle driver in a bar. The same week I was lucky enough to land a job as an usher at the Big Apple Circus. I was able to pay rent, working six days a week, 10-13 hours a day for $250 a week; which is roughly 3 to 4 dollars an hours. The circus was a non-profit in which they did not have to comply with minimum wage laws and their corporate sponsors received a tax write off.

I had a residence and a way to pay for transportation to and from work. I was proud of myself until I began my new job. Circus life meant that I was on my feet the whole day doing nothing remotely interesting. I scraped cotton candy off the ground, arranged chairs, and showed the circus patrons to their seats. The circus was only in town for another month, and I had beaten out five people for the job.

Tips were few and far between. I tried to seat people with the most expensive tickets, I could never afford to come to the circus and I would never want to attend the circus because the show was horrible. The people who tipped had ringside or box seats. Often time’s women would drop their purses and if you crawled under the bleachers and got it, their husbands would tip you. If the audience was a crew of rich women tips were a lost cause, just a ‘thank you,’ and spilled popcorn and soda in your hair. I became bitter and was very rude to all patrons, and then I started getting more tips. Can’t explain the logic in that.

The animals were treated better than the staff. The life of a horse in the circus was spent in a small stable for most of 24 hours with frequent grooming, then the horse would have 10 minutes to run circles in a ring while Russian acrobats did tricks on their backs.

Most of the ushering staff were first generation Russian, or from the Bronx. I was the only caucasian person at the job who was born in the United States; I was also the only usher born in the United States who was not from New York. It took at least two years of being an usher to graduate to a managerial position, such as supervising usher or head usher. These positions included a red tie, to distinguish from the yellow bow ties of the regular ushers, and a silver flashlight. Most usher’s flashlights were black and held the AA batteries together with scotch tape. Each usher had a section of the circus to clean, there were 12 ushers in the circus, and five brooms. We had a minimal amount of time to sweep between shows. We could not all sweep at once, and we could not go on break until we had finished sweeping.

The job of the supervisor was to make sure that the ushers did our jobs. The usher’s job was heavily mundane and suicidal. The ushers who did not have the stamina for the work often had problems with authority.

Damon, a 30 year old man from the Bronx almost got into a fight with the supervisor one afternoon because he would not permit any more of the supervisors harassment. James was our supervisor and proud of the fact that he had been with the circus for three years. Two of the years he was an usher. Whenever an usher would sweep, take out the trash, wipe the tops of the trashcans, or do any of the simple tasks we were assigned, James would give us our assignment again as if we were doing them incorrectly; which perpetuated the stupidity of the circus. If the usher failed to do his or her job, James was at fault. When we swept the isles, James would ask us to sweep the isles. James’ job at the circus was redundant to say the least.

I was one of the few ushers who did not have children. The work was physically draining, to the point that relaxing was the only thing that matterd. The war and the economy did not cross my mind, though I’m taxed for it first. When I worked forty hours a week in Boston and 60 hours a week in San Francisco, I spent a lot of time writing about things like American Imperialism, and drug laws. As a former member of the Young Socialists, this job was making me lose interest in politics.

Poverty is not the least bit interesting when you are broke. All I did every day was return from work, drink beer, write in my journal, then fall asleep. I did not care in the least how many of my tax dollars were killing Afghanis. Activism and social awareness are luxuries of people that have time. And all the ushers who had kids were mainly concerned with purchasing winter coats for the new year.

Damon and I had similar lifestyles. We both worked one shit job after the other. When Damon asked me what I did with my free time I replied, "I write." When I asked him what he liked to do, he said, "I watch the Knicks and the Yankees." Two of Damon’s friends had moved to Sacramento, and Damon wanted to join them once he saved up enough money. I told him he should do it. Every day Damon would tell me that he was going to quit and go to California. He never did.

Two pay periods later we got our checks and I had saved up enough to cover the following month’s rent. I finished my shift and handed the supervisor my uniform. I gave Damon my voicemail number and left.

"What are you going to do after this?" Damon asked me the day I quit.

"I’m going to try to get another job. It won’t be easy but I have a few weeks to find something else."

Damon never left the circus.

by JR Johnson

Five men stood in a semi- circle on the street corner. Street lamps
poured down their gracious light covering the drugstore in the background.
It was 11 am and the last train to Sleepyville made its accustomed
run over the Urban Landscape. Breaking the silence a strident and
youthful voice rang out: "Someone's going to die tonight."

In the three-second interval there went a circular motion outwards
along with a glint that just as fast dissapeared. One of the shorter
men buckled to his knees, his hand clutched to his throat. My passenger
and I had observed this event , setting in my car, across the street.
Immediately we sped away. The next day I learned that at that spot,
a young man, his throat cut, had died the previous night.

I'm sharing this story with readers to put them on alert to the
possible consequences of intemperate language. From my understanding
on the topic, human beings project a varied array of mind-sets.
Descriptions such as a loving, a Wonderland, a stoic, a hateful,
a cynical, and a Hee Haw mental disposition only scratch the surface
of possibilities. Seen in context then, we can be made or broken
by our public utterances.

From the foregoing it's obvious that there are words and statements
which should be red-flagged and not verbalized to others at all.
That's to say, just as someone can say things to move you to anger,
your own life could hang in the balance were you to say the wrong
thi

Here recently in fact, while eating at a lunch counter, crossed
words were noticed being exchanged between a food-server and a patron.
In a slow, deliberate move, the worker came from around the counter
to confront his agitator. Again words were exchanged which I could
not hear. In one and a half seconds the younger man smashed his
fist to the jaw of the senior. It was surrealistic in that the victim's
light appeared to go out instantly, long before he crumpled to his
knees backwards, his head smashing to the concrete floor, a halo
of blood circling his head. The same evening after the paramedics
had taken him away, I learned the senior had repeatedly called the
young man a Punk.ng, to the wrong person, at the wrong time..

(back to top)

I would be willing to bet the victim learned a valuable lesson
from that experience. On that note, never likely will he address
someone in that manner ever again. The same good sense can be adopted
by the rest of us concerning words of ethnic put-down. Words such
as Wop, Japs, White trash, Niggers, Chinks, Wet-backs, etc., when
addressed to the wrong person, at the wrong time, could blow up
in in our faces.

Another take on human perceptions came in my attending a committee
hearing involving a member of the Clergy. The minister I will not
name, for good reason, weighed in at about 210 lbs and stood 6-foot
4-inches tall. He proudly evoked this saying, "No one can make you
mad unless you let them."

The only problem with that statement is its evident flaw. This
was made clear to me during a meeting being chaired by the same
Minister. Speaker after speaker stood up and gave their opinion
on the measure being discussed. Then arrived my golden moment. Before
I could give even a quarter of my wisdom, the Chairman told me that
was enough and to sit down. You probably guessed it: I didn't let
him, but he made me mad as Hell. The very next week, under similar
circumstances I was abruptly cancelled out. Again I was pissed off,
and in fact I told the Chairman in delicately chosen words that
I didn't appreciate his evident disrespect. Going a step further,
I never attended those meetings again.

Mr. Smart is another case in point. As head of an interaction
class he too approached the subject of human relations, I thought
in a cavalier manner. According to his point of view: no one can
make you mad unless you let them. In my opinion, Mr. Smart would've
served his students better by not sugar-coating how we differently
react to the spoken word. That would have revealed the dual nature
of words and the high respect they are due. Keep in mind some of
these uses are to heal, to make others sick, mad, angry, happy,
enthused, inspired, etc., etc. It can be added that, unlike machines,
our responses to others are based upon a complex inter-connecting
web of emotion intellect and sensitivity.

An incident from my youth underscores our myriad interpretation
of words and how they are reacted to. In my 7th grade classroom
one of the beauty queens openly dissed a fellow male student: "Hey
Ron, why are you so ugly?" The guy rebutted and said: "Your Grandma
looks like homemade sin." The pretty thing crashed and burned in
a torrent of tears, her beautiful world temporarily demolished.
Whatever moral can be extracted from these events could be aided
by another; I think timely observation. Most of us live under the
rainbow of personal narcissism. At any given time we think that
we know exactly how we would respond to every situation. Yet the
truth is, until the insult actually takes place it's difficult to
altogether plan for that reality. Then again, there are many of
us who undergo insults from others on a regular basis and shrug
it off. It's also true what the Minister and Mr. Smart said too,
to a certain degree. It's my suggestion the subject is really about
respect. Therefore, whenever we address and respond to others, it's
probably best we say it with roses.

by Muteado Silencio/PNN Voces de inmigrantes en resistencia

Entrevista para PNN-TV con Sandra Sandoval una danzante en el area de la bahia de San Francisco, sobre el significado para ella el dia de los muertos y como se invulucro con los danzantes.

Interview with Sandra Sandoval for PNN-TV about the day of the dead and her participation in the Danza Azteca in the bay area.

Scroll down for English

El Dia De Los Muertos

Para el habitante de Nueva York, Paris o Londres, la muerte es palabra que jamas se pronuncia porque quema los labios. El mexicano, en cambio, la frecuenta, la burla, la acaricia, duerme con ella, la festeja, es uno de sus juguetes favoritos y su amor mas permanente. Cierto, en su actitud hay quiza tanto miedo como en la de los otros; mas al menos no se esconde ni la esconde; la contempla cara a cara con paciencia, desden o ironía. Octavio Paz Hace mas de 500 años atras, cuando los conquistadores Españoles llegaron a lo que ahora es Mexico y fue Tenochtitlan se encontraron a los nativos praticando rituales que parecia que se burlaban de la muerte. Eran rituales que nuestra gente a praticado por los ultimos 3,000 años, rituales que los Españoles trataron de erradicar sin tener exito.

Un ritual que ahora se conoce como El Dia De Los Muertos.

Un ritual celebrando mas y mas en diferentes partes de Latino America.

Celebrado a qui en el area de la bahia, y diferentes partes de la union Americana. Ahora, gente adorna Calaveras y hace altares para recordar y celebrar a sus muertitos, tambien se ofrecen ofrendas que consiste en hacer el plato de comida de la persona difunta.

Los Aztecas y otra tribus Meso-americanas se dice guardaban las Calaveras como trofeos y las mostraban el dia del ritual.Las Calaveras heran usadas como un simbulo de muerte y renacimiento.

Como dice Octavio Paz que la muerte para un Nuyorkino, o alguien de Paris o Londres que intepretan la muerte como el final de la vida, los Indigenas la apreciaban como una continuacion de la vida, en vez de temerle a la muerte la adoraban ellos creian que la vida era un sueno y en la muerte es cuando despertarian verdaderamente.

La gente Pre-Hispanica honoraba la dualidad como algo dinamico, ellos no separaban la muerte y el dolor, riqueza y pobreza, como las culturas occidentales. Los Espanoles consideraban los rituales como falta de respeto o no respetar algo sagrado, y percibian a los Indigenas como gente Barbara. Intentaron cambiar los rituales a algo mas catolico para matar los rituales indigenas. Pero como los danzantes que miramos en el area de la bahia, los rituales siguen vivos en nuestro presente.

Para hacer los rituales mas Cristianos, los Espanoles hicieron que los rituales se celebraran el dia de todos los santos y espiritus que es (Nov.1 y el 2) que es cuando se celebra ahora.

Anteriormente se celebraba el noveno mes del calendario Azteca, que es aproximadamente el principio de Agosto y hera celebrado todo el mes y se le aguardaba respeto ala diosa Mictecacihuatl, que es conocida como "La senora de los Muertos" quien se dice que murio cuando estaba naciendo.

El Dia De Los Muertos es celebrado en Mexico, partes de los Estados Unidos y Centro America, aunque es celebrado diferente dependiendo donde estes.

En la parte rural de Mexico la gente visita el cementerio donde esterraron a sus muertos, les decoran sus tumbas con flores y veladoras tambien se les trai jugetes a los ninos y tequila ala gente mayor.La gente tambien se sienta cerca de la tumba y come la comida favorita del ser querido que fallecio. El ano pasado hermanos Nativo Americanos y Afro Americanos celebraron a sus muertos haciendo sus propias danzas.

Este dia de los muertos yo recuerdo a mi abuela aunque se muy poco de ella,

Axocoti Cintlaolli, Maiz morado me recuerda a mi abuela en tierra Michoacana, ensenando a mi ama como cantar los cantos de resistencia, para mantener la lucha viva con amor y paciencia, arroz y frijoles, y no simpre esperando por el mejor momento, las tortillas a mano, con cuidado como se hace un movimiento, tienes que saber como , aunque recuerde muy poco de mi abuela porque estaba muy pequeno pa' recordar, puedo probar la revolucion en las tortillas de mi ama, y las Adelitas me hace recordar a ella y al espiritu de mi gente valiente, peleando por 500 anos y contando porque no nacimos esclavos por eso nos revelamos.

La Calaca Ahi viene la flaca bailando un poco de banda, quiere sacar a alguien a bailar, pero todos se rajan, unos la llaman muerte otros la flaca yo le digo que es una calaca porque no sabe bailar banda, yo no me le rajo y le ensene a bailar salsa.

Engles Sigue

For the inhabitant of New York, Paris, London, death is a word that you are not supposed to mention cause it burns your lips. The Mexican, instead, it's frequent to her, it makes fun of it, it caress her, it sleeps with her, it's one of the favorite toys and the love for her is permanent. Is true, the fear might be the same as others; but we don't hide from it, we face it, irony or disdain
Octavio Paz

About 500 years ago, when the Spanish Conquistadors arrive to what is now Mexico but was also know as Tenochtitlan they encounter the natives practicing in rituals that seemed to mock death.

It was rituals that our people had practice for the last 3,000 years, rituals that the Spaniards would try to eradicate unsuccessfully.

A ritual that now is know as "The day of the dead", a ritual that more and more is been celebrate in different parts of Latin America.

Celebrated here in the bay area and different parts of the United States.

In these times people adorn skulls and prepared altars to remember their dead relatives, they also provide offerings that consist in making the favorite dish for their love ones who past away. The Aztecs and other Meso-Americans tribes use the skulls as trophies and would use them the day of the ritual. The skulls were symbols of death and rebirth.

Like Octavio Paz said that death for a habitant of New York, Paris, or London is interpretate as the end of life, when indigenous people would adore death as a continuation of life, instead of fearing death they would acknowledge it, they thought life was a dream and you would truly be awaking when you died.

The Pre-Hispanic people would honor duality as something dynamic, they would no separated death with pain, wealth from poverty, like western cultures.

The Spaniards consider the rituals as mocking or not showing respect to something sacred, they perceived indigenous people as barbaric people. The Spaniards also intend in convert the rituals in something more Catholic to kill the indigenous rituals.

But like the Danzantes we see here in the bay area, the rituals are alive and well in our present.

To make the rituals more Catholic, the Spaniards made the rituals be celebrated the day of all saints and spirits (Nov.1 and 2) which is when it is celebrated today, previously was celebrated the ninth month of the Aztec calendar, approximately the beginning of August and was celebrated for the rest of the month and people would honor the goddess Mictecacihuatl, who was know as the "Lady of the Dead" was believed to have died at birth.

The day of the dead is celebrated in Mexico, parts of United States, and Central America is celebrated different depends where you are.

In rural parts of Mexico people visit the cemetery where people had buried their love ones, they adorn their graves with flowers and candles they also bring toys for the dead children and bottle of tequila for adults. People also sit close to the grave to eat the favorite dish of the decease.

Our brothers and sisters Native American & African American had celebrated their dead with their own dances.

On this day of the dead I remember my grandmother, even do I knew very little of her, Axocoti Cintlaolli

Purple Corn reminds me of my grandmother back in Michoacan land, showing my mom how to sing the songs of keeping the struggle alive with beans and rice with love and sacrifice with patience and waiting for the right time las tortillas by hand just like you craft a movement, carefully you need to know how and even do I could hardly remember my grandmother cause I was to young to recall, I taste the revolution on the tortillas of my mom. The Adelitas reminds me of her and of the rebel spirit that lives inside of our people my gente valiente fighting for 500 years and counting cause we were not born slaves that's why we fight back.

La Calaca

There she comes dancing Banda, wants to dance with someone, no one wants to, some us call it death others the skinny one, I called La Calaca cause she can't dance Banda, am not afraid and taught her how to salsa....