California Quail
When we don’t talk we can’t interrupt a feeling, we can’t try to control where it goes.
I just finished Charles Bowden’s—Down by the River. A piece about the deep corruption that sits like syrup between the United States and Mexico—anyone who steps in it carries a little bit of stickiness around with them. Those who know too much sink into canisters of molasses until they can no longer breathe.
On page 68, he states, “There is a time when a person can think that all this is scattered and unconnected, part of the white noise that is the background for modern life and that seeks to deaden everyone. There is a time when the mind says, none of this has anything to do with real life. Safety comes from this way of thinking. The past is walled off and kept at bay. The little incidents stay little. And then there are moments like this weekend, a brother is dead in a casket, women are weeping, the rooms are crowded with family and all the little incidents now come back and fill the mind and wander about and have a new mystery and importance.”
For some reason I am not stuck on the death or the weeping, I am not stuck on the way the mind seeks safety in ignorance and forgetfulness. I am not stuck on the past or the white noise that is modern life. I am stuck on this one sentence—none of this has anything to do with real life. And so, I repeat it over and over—none of this has anything to do with real life. None of this has anything to do with real life. None of this has anything to do with real life. This is what I think about every moment of every day whether it be in the back jungles of my mind or right at the front, where all the rivers intersect with the eyes and breath.
It’s why I cry, whenever I cry, and it’s why I argue, relentlessly, with anyone who even begins to talk about pop culture, politics, celebrities, restaurants with Michelin stars, the petty happenings of a day at work, theatre, museums, fucking research—oh I read this research and what it comes down to is humans don’t really have ten fingers they actually have eleven because new studies have shown that the belly button is categorized as a finger— we just don’t observe it as such because it doesn’t stick out like the rest and we can’t use it to pick things up and so it is forgotten. But, in reality, the belly button is part of the finger system and until we start thinking of the belly button as a finger we are going to continue to be misguided. Who the fuck cares about any of it — none of this has anything to do with real life. None of this has anything to do with real life. None of this has anything to do with real life. My body is an object and so are all my organs and my veins, my intricate blood and bone networks are a part of something deeper we will never fully understand because we are separatists, meticulously taxonomizing ourselves—connectivity escapes the study.
Yesterday, I was talking to an intelligent woman who wanted to explain that the real housewives, a reality show, is an inquiry into human existence. They watch it because it is an anthropological study that helps them understand the nuances of our society and all the different groups that exist within it. The women portrayed on the real housewives of Beverly Hills, for example, are a part of society that needs to be studied and observed in order to know the world and understand the intricacies of humanity. Until we start thinking of the real housewives as a piece of the anthropological mosaic we will continue to be misguided. I like this woman a lot, and there was another woman there who was avidly agreeing with them, and it was the most aggressive, academic, rationalization I’ve heard in a while and it made me want to cry and argue relentlessly but there was no point because either action was a waste of time. But, what I wanted to say was none of this has anything to do with real life. None of this has anything to do with real life. None of this has anything to do with real life.
You are here for this one tiny blip and if your goal is to understand the intricacies in each sector of human society, to be an anthropologist, I wonder how long you spent studying the Wayuu in the La Guajira region or the Kuna Yala or the Wampanoag right here in your own backyard. Of course I would never make this argument because the follow up is too easy. Well I’m a white woman and if I am going to understand anything about society I should start with my people and in reality my people have really ugly pockets that are superficial and wealth obsessed and violent and racist and . . .in a sense she is right but then we have to get into the fact that TV isn’t real life even when the title says it is and anthropologists don’t use reality shows as a source of valid information on a elitist group of people who make money off of dramatizing obscene aspects of life and selling it to the masses. None of it has anything to do with real life. None of this has anything to do with real life. None of this has anything to do with real life.
Then there’s the politics—Biden was the only candidate that could have won against trump. He’s a good president. No he’s not. Yes he is. No he didn’t, yes he did. What do you know anyway? Thump—drops mic and walks away. Beyonce is the best performer that ever lived. She’s done things no one has ever been able to do. No she didn’t. What about Michael Jackson? He was a pedophile. What about Aretha Franklin? Whitney Houston? He was better, she was better, they were better. There was some truth in what Kanye said. Kanye is an antisemite. Kanye is mentally ill. Kanye is getting what he deserves. Kanye’s a mere genius tricking people into seeing truths they don’t want to see. Kanye’s dead. Oh wait, that didn’t happen yet but when it does people will cry and send flowers and say he was the best performer that ever existed.
Separatists meticulously taxonomizing ourselves. Until death comes and we realize none of it has anything to do with real life. None of it has anything to do with real life. None of it has anything to do with real life.
Did you go to Neue Galerie and see the Ronald Lauder Collection? There is a second century BCE head of a Hellenistic Greek goddess. You have to see it, it changed my life. Oh also, the Metropolitan Museum of Art is having a cubism exhibit — something about the exploitation of flatness and the optical illusions that will distract us from what is. Should we have dinner at the Top of the Sixes first —I heard there is a new Michelin star chef taking over the kitchen.
. . . all this is scattered and unconnected, part of the white noise that is the background for modern life . . .
All this— seeks to deaden everyone.
None of it has anyhing to do with real life. None of it has anything to do with real life. None of it has anything to do with real life.
So, what is real life? If you have time between the endless banter of nothingness—ask yourself and then ask the rest of us.
Transmissions 2022
Birds-Eye-View Spotlight Writer
Eliszbet Velasquez — To read about her book When We Make It CLICK HERE
If you want more from The Birds — Check out Elisabet Velasquez—Elisabet ELISABET VELASQUEZ is a Brooklyn Born Boricua. She is a mother of two. Her poems are an exploration of her life. Velasquez has performed at Lincoln Center Out Of Doors, Pregones Theatre, Bushwick Starr Theatre, The Bowery Poetry Club, Brooklyn Museum, Museum Of Natural History, The Nuyorican Poets Cafe, Rutgers University, Williams College, Adelphi University, Pace University, Princeton University, James Madison University, Harvard University and The Amber Rose Slut Walk 2017. Her work has been featured on TIDAL, NBC, Now This, Huffington Post, Latina Magazine, Vibe Magazine, Muzzle Magazine, Centro Voces. She is a VONA Alum, 2017 Poets House Fellow. She is the winner of Button Poetry's 2017 Poetry Video Contest. She is a 2019 Frost Place Fellow. Her work is forthcoming in the anthology : WHAT SAVES US Poems of Empathy and Outrage In The Age Of Trump edited by Martin Espada. (Bio pulled from her website—elisabetvelasquez.com)
