Category Archives: Cuentos

Cuentos

The end of the affair

About three weeks had passed since I’d last spoken to Ojitos.

At this point, I didn’t even want to talk to him. I wouldn’t have called if not for my colorful book full of calacas and other Día de los Muertos imagery. I wanted that book back. I hate when you split up with someone and he keeps your stuff. Ojitos had my book and I had a mix CD he’d left at my apartment a few weeks earlier. A book for a CD. Fair exchange, right?

My message was rather curt. I didn’t ask how he was doing, didn’t say “hope you’re doing well” in a fake voice. I just wanted my book.

I figured once I got my book and gave him his CD, that’d be it. No more Ojitos.

I know what you’re thinking.

No, you didn’t miss anything.
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Cuentos, Música

Queso fresco, volumes 1 and 2

We were on the way to a concert when Ojitos suggested making mixtapes.

“You should make me a rock en español CD and I’ll make you a reggae mix. That way we can both learn more about each genre.”

“One CD? That’ll be tough.”

“Well, just put on the stuff I should know.”

“Like the obvious songs?”

“Yeah, sorta.”

“Still, one CD?”

Okay, this sounds easier than it actually was. I looked at my iTunes library and wondered how I’d pick about 18 for a mix. I needed a theme. Best songs to dance to at a party? My favorites? My favorite artists? Mexican bands only? South American bands only? Songs on a certain topic?

They were all wrong.

There’s a line in High Fidelity where Rob, the book/movie’s protagonist discusses the fine science of making a mixtape for a potential mate. He claims that it’s just like breaking up, hard to do. In the movie, Rob expands:

The making of a great compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do and takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick off with a killer, to grab attention. Then you got to take it up a notch, but you don’t wanna blow your wad, so then you got to cool it off a notch. There are a lot of rules.

He’s right.

I stared at my iTunes library for half an hour trying to make playlists and pick songs. I wasn’t getting anywhere. I packed up my things and decided to head to my parent’s house. On the way there, the idea hit me. If this was supposed to be a guide to rock en español, it should be organized like most guides, alphabetically!

I settled on an A-Z of rock en español theme focusing on bands from all over the Spanish-speaking world. It didn’t matter if they were form Texas or Spain, as long as the song was sung in Spanish (primarily), I’d include it. I started with Los Abandoned and ended with Zurdok. I tried to include at least one band per letter and eventually came up with 40 odd songs for 2 CDs.

I called it Queso Fresco.

I’d offer up the mp3s or make a podcast, but I’m feeling a bit lazy. If you are interested, let me know. Track list after the jump.

Edit (4.2.08): I made a mixtape of the first 12 songs. This is only A-E with a couple songs added that didn’t make the Queso Fresco cut. Those songs are Pantalón by Los Abandoned and De Marcha by Los De Abajo (I counted them as a D band).

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Cuentos

Certainty

When I met Ojitos, I was only a few months removed from a tough breakup.

For the first few months after the breakup, I stayed away from the ex. I needed that time away from him in order to start getting over how hurt and angry I felt. It wasn’t easy.

Less than six weeks after it set in that the break up was permanent, a close mutual friend died in a tragic accident. Many of my close friends, including the ex were greatly affected by this loss. In fact, the ex was the one who informed me of our friend’s death. In that process of grieving, I needed everyone close by.

I started hanging out again with the ex as platonic friends. One evening, we had dinner with his roommates and mutual friends at their apartment. Afterward, we played Guitar Hero (I won, of course) and caught up with work and life.
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Cuentos

Monday surprise

Someone was knocking on the door. That’s rare. I was the only person home. Maybe it was my roommate. She sometimes forgets her keys.

I checked the peephole, but it was too bright for me to recognize the person outside.

I opened the door and saw a young man surrounded by bright sunlight.

“Hi,” Ojitos greeted me.

I blinked, trying to let my eyes adjust to the sunlight. I’d kept it dark in my apartment to keep it cool.

“Your hair looks different. You got a haircut,” I responded.

“Yeah,” he said and ran his hand through his now-shorter hair.

He read my confused expression and began to explain why he’d just surprised me unannounced.

“I was in the neighborhood, on my way to work… I wanted to talk to you… I couldn’t call*… I missed you… Are you going somewhere?”

“I was about to leave.”

“Oh, I can go…”

“No, no. I can catch a later movie. Come in.”

I like surprises.

*The day before, I was feeling pretty annoyed with Ojitos. It was Sunday. He hadn’t called nor returned my last cheesy question via text message. Only one day had passed, not long, but I hate not getting a call (or text message or email) back within a reasonable amount of time. A day is not reasonable. Later that day, he emailed me to let me know he couldn’t call because he had been tossed in a swimming pool. His phone was ruined. Of course he had a good excuse.

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