Friday, March 07, 2008

Five Dollar Boom Boom...again and again and again.

My mom's from Vietnam.

I'm first-generation-born-somewhere-other-than-that-place-guy. My older brother was born there too. Why don't we have the obligatory X-Men-Cyclops eyes? Don't know. Don't care. I always look tired anyways, so it doesn't make much of a difference in the long run. I had a bad mother. She's nice and all, but sucks in a lot of departments when it comes down to the final inventory. No big deal. No bad feelings. No skin off of the Irish-Vietnamese back. Tonight at the bar, I was engaging in some type of conversation that I thought was important, when I heard my name being called...There was a small, smiling lady selling something. With my bad vision, I thought that it was roses. But it wasn't. She was lugging around a wooden display case full of bracelets. That was probably why the lady was brought to my attention. I'm one of the only guys left with a girlfriend. So everybody was directing the lady towards me. Nobody wanted anything. The bracelets were okay. Nothing special. What was special was that I bought one. That she was smiling, even though that she had to try to sell cheap trinkets of homemade beauty to a bunch or worthless kids. What was special was that she always had a smile on her face. What was special was that I could hear people making racist comments behind her back, even though two of them were black. What was special was that she danced to the live band that was playing as she left the bar. The only money that she had was what I gave her. She danced away with a smile on her face as people made fun of her. These are the same people who probably made fun of my mother years ago when she came to this country. The only reason that she was here, and the only reason that I exist is because she met a handsome white guy. A guy that gave up the job that he loved, to shack up and do the nasty with a beautiful girl. Nothing mattered. All that my father wanted was what was best for the both of them. The friends asked why I bought the cheap bracelet. I half-joked that I was watching out for my own. I told them that that was my mother who just left. They said, why, because she was Vietnamese?

I said no...because she was a person, you fucking idiots.

7 comments:

Euge said...

I like this one... very much.

Fat Free Milk said...

Thanks!

Euge said...

"cheap trinkets of homemade beauty"

I like that line. I like looking for lines that kinda provides a snapshot of the work. I like weaving in the titles into my rants. I like... like.

Anonymous said...

I like what you're doing in general, Kevynn. In this one, I'm sure many of today's freshly made adults can relate to having a flawed mother. Is it because we have the courage or disrespect to admit it? Or because it is notable due to our crushed realities? Writer's are pointers. I see your narrator finds it important to show us the reorganization of reality that occurs when our mentors lose out, and I agree with him.

Your new neighbor in the yellow house.

Boz said...

I remember this post!

Trinitee said...

This is why I'm back again tonight, Kevynn, back in your space with your words. So many years have passed since words were important to me. Your words are important, Kev, at least to one middle aged nostalgic mom who believes, maybe, just maybe, somewhere inside there's still room to care and love the world again, beautiful and shitty as it can be, maybe even rage, or weep, or dance like no one's looking. Don't get me wrong, there's much I love, people I would die to protect, but seeing the world beyond my apartment, seeing people and actually caring, that's hard to come by for me these days. Thanks for giving me something real to chomp on.

Fat Free Milk said...

Thank you so much.