Nuyorican Obituary

My short story “El Bohemio” is now up on Thrilling Detective, the online hard-boiled crime lit magazine edited by Gerald So and Kevin Burton Smith. They’ve got loverly noirish artwork for the cover. As for the story, a very few of you may remember pieces of its plot from a story I wrote in college called “Green Pumas” (referring to sneakers, not irradiated mountain cats). The story lingered in manila folders in drawers for years, seeing the light every now and then when I changed a name or deleted a scene. I serialized an updated version of “Green Pumas” in my print zine Zeeno in the late 1990s (only 50 copies of each zine were printed, and I have plenty left for you eager collectors out there…any takers? any?…hmm, didn’t think so). Last summer I heavily revised the story, changing story elements and the resolution completely, and “El Bohemio” is the result. Now if I could just get John Leguizamo to buy the movie rights.

At my new job I have of late been re-initiated into the dreaded process called The Client Presentation. You gather in a room with The Clients — here, they look like people who’ve stepped out of a Lifetime movie. Then the designer shows them design, and then you as the writer reads them the copy that they apparently cannot read for themselves. The Client has not seen the design nor read the copy before. Your goal is to manipulate their interpretation of what is being presented. However, what happens usually is each of The Clients tries to think of something interesting to say, to justify their presence in the meeting. Typically, since they have had no time to consider the material beforehand, very little of what they say is well thought out or of any significance. “Just thinking out loud,” they call it. But they’re The Client. It’s their tab. They can say whatever they want. If you feel industrious, maybe you try the three-but approach (i.e., “But what if…” “But that would…” “But how about…,” and if you haven’t changed their minds by the third “but,” then you just sit there and nod like a dashboard toy). And that’s the way things are done in agencies worldwide. And that, unfortunately, is what makes meetings perhaps the single-most cause for workplace ennui and unhappiness. I prefer sending the clients the work, waiting the weeks and weeks for their feedback, doing the “but” work over e-mail and phone, and then finally assenting to whatever they want, nodding like a dashboard toy at my own desk and leaving me more time to play Scrabulous.

I just had an essay of mine, “Why I Hate Florida,” accepted for publication in Center: A Journal for Literary Arts out of the University of Missouri. It’s a really personal essay, so I feel a bit exposed about it, since all the emotional stuff isn’t tucked into fiction or behind a pseudonym. Thanks to nonfiction editor Dustin Michael for liking my work enough to invite me to submit and for actually liking what I wrote (and giving me some great notes). I got drunk once with Dustin, so there’s a hint for you writers out there: Get drunk with your editors!

I was visiting my friends C—— and E— in PA and after a several bottles of wine we moved all the way from the kitchen table and the empty glasses to the cooking area, a distance of about seven feet, and made this actually pretty simple one-pot dish. One pot if you’re organized! Now as a single guy, imagine this meal as something you might serve four guests. But in reality it’ll be something you can eat yourself over four nights, from a bowl balanced on your lap in front of the TV. Or two nights, and straight from the pot, if you’re the type who binges when he’s depressed.

No, by “organized” I mean that you had some leftovers you were smart enough to toss in the fridge. Like ham, peppers thah haven’t started to turn fuzzy, and even cooked rich (in which case, you cut your cooking time in half). If you have that stuff, most of this dish is already cooked. If not, it’s a good way to spend a Saturday–what else do you have to do?

INGREDIENTS:
* 1 big fat greasy chorizo, diced
* 1 large onion, diced
* 1 red bell pepper, diced
* 1 green bell pepper, diced
* 2 cloves garlic, destroyed
* 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more, to taste
* 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
* 1 teaspoon paprika
* 1/2 teaspoon oregano
* 1/2 teaspoon thyme
* 1 bay leaf
* 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
* 1 tablespoon tomato paste
* 6 ounces diced ham
* 2 1/2 cups chicken broth
* 1 cup diced tomatoes
* 1 cup long-grain white rice
* 1 pound peeled and deveined medium shrimp
Hot pepper sauce

PREPARATION:
In a Dutch oven (heh heh) over medium heat, cook chorizo until crisp. Take out that chorizo before it gets black and toss it all on paper towels to drain. In the chorizo fat, toss in garlic, onion, and peppers and cook until tender, oh, about 10 minutes. Toss in herbs, ham, and tomatoes gingerly. Add chicken broth. Pause to consider fate of New Orleans. Bring liquid to boil. Stir in the rice, cover, reduce heat and simmer for about 20 minutes. Now, instead of your usual cigarette, two glasses wine, and one-eighth of a sudoku puzzle, do the next step instead: The shrimp!

Shrimp is the big expenditure here. This you actually have to buy fresh or forget it. Don’t get the frozen shrimp! I’m telling you! Anyway, sit at the table with a paring knife and a bowl. If you don’t know how to cut up shrimp, then call up the Greeks because it’s just too much for me to explain now, I’m not in the mood. So, 20 minutes are up: Add the shrimp to the pot; cook through. Salt and pepper to taste.Two gallons hot sauce. Just kidding. Maybe. If you want it thicker, get some of the liquid into a cup, stir in 2 Tbs. corn starch, then dump back into the mix. Stir it around, let it cook a little more, hum a little Fats Domino, eat.

People decide on whether they trust a public speaker within four seconds.

The seats at fast food restaurants like McDonald’s are designed to be uncomfortable and numb your ass within 7 minutes, so that you won’t linger. At Starbuck’s, they designed chairs to make you want to sit. Well, as much as you can while ingestng a diuretic.

All decisions have emotional content. There is apparently no such thing as a decision based solely on logic. Sorry, Spock, so much for all that Kohlinar, huh?

Pepsi tastes better to most of those surveyed at the sip level. But when it came to drinking a whole can, Coke was preferred. (Both drinks are evil.)

Advertising companies have stinky bathrooms. So stinky they sting. You figure out why.