Posts by masterdenada

Luis is a well-rounded person who has always had big dreams for life. His experience thus far has made him a true "jack of all trades," alas he is a "master of nothing" at all. But there is talent, and I plan on discussing that in this blog.

I Never Had a Best Friend


That’s right. I never had a best friend. Don’t take this as a plea for help, or attention, or solicitation. I do not need anyone’s pity, nor am I taking applications for a best friend. I am just stating a fact: I simply never had ONE best friend.

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I remember those days
Of catching grasshoppers
And picking clovers
And tossing the ball
Till the sun hides at the horizon

And the neighborhood streets
Glow in dusk dark blue
And our skin glistens
With sweat, dirt, grass,
And scraped shins of the day
As the fireflies parade their
Stuttering light-show
Strobing around the backyard
Like tiny comets while
The call of the cicadas
Serenades us.

Your hand reaches for mine.
There’s a warm breeze.

You show me the dry shedded skin
Of the cicada nymph
That you found still attached to the
Side of the neighbor’s house.

I didn’t think I remembered.
But I do.

You’re still with me.

What’s in a Nombre?


As a child, I always wanted a middle name. Anthony. Alex. David, maybe. Or even Jose. There was something mysterious or beautiful to me about having two first names (or rather a first name and a middle name). Alas, I always felt stuck with a name that sounded boring to me, that is… like the taste of an unsalted, stale cracker.

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Remembering Mom

Wedding portrait of Maricela A. Garcia.

Wedding portrait of Maricela A. Garcia in the living room.

My mother passed away in 1999. March 5 is her birthday. Although growing up, birthdays were not a big deal in our family, I share this post as a tribute to her memory. She visits me in dreams every so often. Lately, less so. As such, I write this recurring memory I have of my mother, albeit a nostalgic sentimental recollection. There is much more to this woman than what little is written here; she has inspired us — her children — to reach for the stars, to adhere to a strong work ethic, and to be kind with a heart full of love for everyone around us. I love you, Mom.

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Confession: I was a little bored at a meeting today.

View on Path

Ages of Man

Ages of Man

Ages of Man

And the ages of man
trickle down the fragile glass
like tears of a mother
in mourning for the child she never knew.
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Year of Writing Ardently

Collection of Writing Journals

Writing. It is one of those passions that I loved doing when I was younger. I do not know if it was the angst of teenagedom or the disaffected fantasies of a shy boy who was too spoiled for his own good, but I wrote. I wrote a lot. I loved to write. I want to write more now, but sometimes I feel that my passion for writing is stronger than my will to write.

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