Justino Rodriguez » Justino

“Hang on in there, and make sure that you focus hard on the’writing thing’ – it will unlock or lock up everything in the world of academia…remember step-by-step, little-by-little each waking moment – only the whole at the very start in your mind, at the absolute end on the paper.”

-A good friend

ghetto love

Justino — Sun, 16 May 2010 19:14:42 +0000

lost boys- Renee

We were piled 10 deep in a minivan flying down the FDR late night in 96′ when “Renee” flowed through the speakers. We instantly connected with the story of love in the gritty city Mr. Cheeks shared with us. It’s been a constant ever since. Lisa was my girlfriend around that time. She gave me my first note sealed by lipstick lip prints. Wish I still had it. We dated for two weeks till’ I decided to quietly part ways. It was that or take a beat down from twenty dude’s in our grade that were feeling her and organized to hate on something beautiful. This goes out to Lisa and all who know the wonder and pain inherent in navigating the laws of ghetto love.

Stumble/Slip/Fall

Justino — Tue, 11 May 2010 14:02:59 +0000

Neither, I’ll be going up over or through…

The haze that settled in a week before my qualifying exams has yet to lift. While on my way to visit friends in willy-b (a part of the city I don’t visit often), I slipped while waiting for the G train on the yellow safety line that is supposed to serve as protection and warning. As you know there are different species of these subway lines, each with their particular geneology tracing back to whatever crook happened to finagle a municipal contract in that moment. My companion in that painful fall was the large iron bumpy kind, caked in a glossy yellow enamel. They also happen to be the least hospitable to your back if landed on directly. The impact was absorbed mostly in my lower back followed by a second impact on my elbow, head and hand.

No breath for a while after that one. Just stars and a wish my counsciousness could escape the unbearable feeling of having every sense overtaxed by the pain that would surely follow. The kicker is nobody helped me up. Fucking platform full of twenty and thirtysomething hipsters and not one of them lent a hand. I laid on the ground for 10 minutes doing my best to remember to breathe before the next train arrived. When the doors opened this older west Indian woman picked me up off the floor and sat me in the seat next to her. The haze has changed in consistency. Feeling better in some ways. Pain can clarify some things and obsure others. One plus is that moving a bit slower forces me to be a bit more mindful and contemplative.