It’s hot A F in San Jose
hood ass QT
#tiosal #kissthegirl #butthead
Dis babe and a cookie sandwich
"it was like someone kicked her twice and she fell off a cliff but caught the ledge…..and then the dude was like ‘here take my hand!!’ but his hand was mad greasy….rip lil deb"
-this is HELEN BURNS-
My grandma had a Chevy Nova with seats draped in patterned blankets. To the touch they were like brillo pads topped with felt, hardly the type of blanket you’d want to sleep with, every time you shifted your weight you ran the risk of a rug burn. The outside was spotted dull red and grey primer paint, forever thirsty for a new coat. Squeaking springs every time she sat in and situated the steering wheel, the sound was far from an annoyance more of an expected white noise, it was a correlated sound with the clanging keys, slamming doors and a puttering engine struggling to roll over from sleep. If there were no squeak at all, I’d feel uneasy, There is comfort in broken things.
My grandparents owned land far in the hills where they used to party before the obligation of grandkids/growing old staggered their pace. I know and could NEVER forget the smell of undisturbed dust and mud, when we’d drive up to check on the land. I was barely old enough to tie my shoes (I didn’t learn how to tie my shoes till age 12). Like clockwork I’d wake as the Nova bottomed out on the dip in the driveway that was never filled, my elbows would burn from the blankets on the seats and I’d wince as we all bounced, licking my dry elbows till the white turned back to brown. They would all walk the property, I would run, I was much too pre-occupied searching out things I could break or have. It would take about 15 minutes before I was stopped, hit and placed in a chair. I specifically remember one time having to sit in chair against a wall that looked as though it could barely hold the paint let alone my weight. I have always been nervous, but maybe more cautious than nervous. I sat quickly anyway and immediately fell through the chair and to the ground, the faces of everyone went from eye bulging anger to floor falling laughter.
It’s a good feeling not being scared anymore. Saved by embarrassment.
I could see everyone pacing looking and vividly remembering parties here, this place was a time machine. I know why spaces are important because they keep your memories for you, when you are forced to move along, they pull thoughts from your mind and stain their walls with them forever. Strains of life have a way of gripping your head and keeping you forward, never allowing you to turn. I felt ashamed, I am the reason this space no longer exists for them, I am just a buzzing fly in the car.
The Nova, It would sit in the driveway for years while different cousins would take it on as a project, to restore it. It would still sit sun dried and squeaky as ever still struggling to start, dying to please. Inside it kept my skin, my cousins skin and every crack on the dash marked another year of preserving somebodies youth, I know because I loved watching the dust settle into cracks, highlighted by the rays of sunlight burning through the windshield. It pooled our memories and none of us really wanted to see that capsule disappear, I never really thought it would.
Carpooling 7 kids and 2 aunts in a five seater to the church food bank. all of us sweating and stacked like monkeys in a barrel, keen on the idea of getting free day old cakes. All of us interlocked stacked on top of one another like legos on the way to Century Theaters Berryessa to get the matinee discount with coupons cut from 7-11 cups in hand. Laying all side by side like the foundation of an abandoned Lincoln log cabin, tired and on our way back from day camp.
It lasted long after my grandma couldn’t drive any longer, It survived her eye sight and her stuttered reaction.
A year ago a little after after my grandfather died, my grandmother lost the house on 15th st. we all grew up in, the house she lived in for 30+ years. The bank gave her little to no option. I never once saw her cry during this, everytime I came over she would be in her chair in the kitchen doing crosswords or crossing her information off of letters before throwing them in the garbage. She didn’t want to go, but I think she is accustomed to pain, her skin is as thick as the blankets in the NOVA.
I pass the house now and I see the oil stains in the driveway from the NOVA. They tried to scrub them away, but the blood from that car is thicker than anything.