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James Silva

            James Silva

Probably one of the more difficult tasks for me to accomplish is a concise description of who I am. The best adjective to describe me is probably "varied." In addition to the adjective "varied" is the ease of using hobbies and favorite books and bands to create a lofty picture of a person. Therefore, not out of spite, nor laziness, will I use the same tactic to aid in the formulation of the lofty, and often flawed, idea of who I am. Here goes!

1. Favorite Book-- The Subterraneans, Jack Kerouac

2. Favorite CD--Your Forgot It in People, Broken Social Scene

3. Favorite Movie--Buffalo 66

4. Favorite Food--Pelon Pelo Rico (Tamarindo Mexican candy)

5. Favorite Place--The Pacific Ocean, just as long as I am 3 feet deep in its waves

And I have been known to smirk far too much. A great many hearts have come crashing down because of this smirk. Well, no, not really, but it sure annoys the hell out of my grandma.

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Morning Drive

I woke up in a haze from the dream the night before, moments before, wherever
you demarcate night and day.
In it my voice was cigarette-cured and bitter, a lone father of a son angry
and articulate.
His veins tensed when I told him he was a fool.
His voice bellowed as he called me a fucking fool.
The dream ended there.

My niece said.
Hi Hi Hi is the word of the day.
7 a.m. and I am in a delusion of regret over a future yet to cast a shadow on
You fucking fool.
And so I made my best offer to my future son,
A drive with my niece, along red and orange smeared morning roads.
All to show that I could become a good father.

The baby seat was a bitch.
It snapped and bit me when I pulled too tight on the harness.
Like Jesus and the serpent I struck it down.
And in went my niece.
Here we go mija, to the mountains!
She said, Hi.

The rearview mirror pulled to the left to catch her curls.
She slept.
The radio played Don Henley.
She slept.
The mountains crept into view as I-70 worked upward.
She slept.
I told her I loved her.
She slept.