Memory is a Muse

BrockaArt, MusicLeave a Comment

Memories sit inside like coals that never lose heat. They live in every cell of our being. We carry them along and into our future. We try to separate our thoughts from their recall, ignoring the pull towards the experience; the person; the smell. We put them in frames, and stand outside of them as if they’re art. To see them as they truly were is to freeze time and prevent ourselves from moving on; to admit something about ourselves; to never survive. This is the trauma; the shame; the heartbreak; the loss; the tragedy. How we frame them is how we adapt and how we continue to carry on.   The greatest thing about memories, though, is they can serve as a muse. Muse is the … Read More

BrockaMemory is a Muse

Life of Kings

BrockaArt, Music, PoemsLeave a Comment

I wrote this song many years ago. I never published it with my EP or later as a single. The recent comments by a New York Times reporter regarding Obama’s birthday crowd being ‘sophisticated and vaccinated’ reminded me of some of the elitist lyrics. When I first imagined the song, I wanted it to have the energy of a big musical number set to Mozart-style chamber music. Had I had the production dollars, I would’ve put out the song in order to have an excuse for the music video; of course, I have it storyboarded already. My revived writing dedication has spilled over into music again, and I would very much like to go back in the studio: finish incomplete … Read More

BrockaLife of Kings

Wannabes

BrockaArt, Fashion, Short StoriesLeave a Comment

There’s an old part of town southwest of Dallas, called Oak Cliff. The oldest homes are stately, dark, and Victorian. They sit on large plots of land or high up on hills. The neighborhood has always been older families, as well as working class. It is now predominantly Mexican, with expansive Mexican immigrant communities. It has since plateaued economically but went through ten years of solid gentrification. In the entire metroplex, this was the first place to embrace the hipster aesthetic: farm to table dining; breweries; weekend markets; poetry-reading, folk music-playing bookstores.  As the home values have skyrocketed and new housing has taken shape around the walkable shops and dining, the poorest have moved further away from the center. Out of … Read More

BrockaWannabes

Dumpster Diving

BrockaArt, Relationships, Short StoriesLeave a Comment

There’s a run-of-the-mill shopping center in a middle class neighborhood. It covers the bases with a Starbucks, nail salon, donut shop, UPS store -you get the idea. A well-known grocery chain sits in the center of these stores. Despite every grocery having a floral department, one florist shop has been a steady presence over thirty years of lease adjustments and the comings and goings of other retailers.   Behind these retailers is the shared dumpster space and loading zone. The neighborhood nuzzled up behind it is shielded from this eyesore by a moderately high, 90-degree brick wall. Residents of the neighborhood often avoid the intersection by exiting through the back, aka, taking the scenic route. It was noticed how the florist was discarding unsold arrangements and other … Read More

BrockaDumpster Diving

The Weight of Our Stuff

BrockaArt, Technology1 Comment

I have no desire to go inside. I can sense the smell, a mixture of funeral parlor and the powdery perfume of an old lady. Antique Malls have a way of selling decay. These items are what generally remains of people’s lives, long dead. Estates cleared out. Yet the musty residue lingers, and I can picture the dust billowing up around me if I were to sit on the furniture with any enthusiasm. How many sets of shoes have already walked across these faded, disintegrating rugs with frayed fringe?   I have not made it through adulthood immune ‘to antiquing,’ though. To strip and sand furniture, to repurpose or refurbish some old thing to shiny and new again is a meditative … Read More

BrockaThe Weight of Our Stuff