Living in L.A., as any born & bred angelino will tell you, is being somewhat of an expert on social & cultural syncretism... Chances are, however, you'll have a tough time finding one capable of telling you exactly what that means... and that includes me.
I suppose this means, in some ineffable sense, that our unfair city is made out of many different factors (diverse ethnicity being the most obvious and most thrown around) which seem to incongruously fit together, albeit not always in harmonious fashion, but never in less than interesting or even fascinating ways...
One could say that L.A.'s the fusion of two seemingly irreconcilable principles into a third and completely new one...
Chicano culture is a great example, amongst many others...
Which brings me to my neighbor, the King Cholo, which is the name I've fondly given to this guy that lives across the street from our apartment...
I don't know his real name, of course...
Man, when I see this hommie walking through the neighborhood he is the very definition of badassery...
Picture a muscle-bound-tattooed-mix of Gengis Khan, Nike's Cortez tennis shoes and Danny Trejo's grandfather... All that's missing is the freaking horse and a broad sword... Wait! No... More like a dragon and an Uzi!
We have all sorts of imaginary stories about him...
We speculate that he's some kind of Homeboy Mafioso, an O.G. with a direct tunnel to Mexicali and a pallet of weed and/or cocaine bricks inside his garage...
I know that's very unkind at best and downright offensive at worst, but intimidating figures always have the quality of bringing out the cowardice in smart-ass jerky types like myself...
In any event, I'd have to say that I actually like my tough, barrio brother, even though our relationship hasn't passed the occasional "What's up, Jefe?" at the corner store during a beer run... After which I naturally gallop home in a panic!
I can't help but imagine him, the King Cholo, in other-worldly terms, like a mighty warrior marching through the quiet village, looking far off into his vast domain, knowing in his heart that it all belongs to him...Even our very cojones!
And so, I say: Long live El Rey...
Oh, and if ever I was to disappear after posting this, well... Let's just say the list of suspects is as short as my life expectancy if this guy sees my Blog!
(...Fat chance of that happening, right? Ha!)
I suppose this means, in some ineffable sense, that our unfair city is made out of many different factors (diverse ethnicity being the most obvious and most thrown around) which seem to incongruously fit together, albeit not always in harmonious fashion, but never in less than interesting or even fascinating ways...
One could say that L.A.'s the fusion of two seemingly irreconcilable principles into a third and completely new one...
Chicano culture is a great example, amongst many others...
Which brings me to my neighbor, the King Cholo, which is the name I've fondly given to this guy that lives across the street from our apartment...
I don't know his real name, of course...
Man, when I see this hommie walking through the neighborhood he is the very definition of badassery...
Picture a muscle-bound-tattooed-mix of Gengis Khan, Nike's Cortez tennis shoes and Danny Trejo's grandfather... All that's missing is the freaking horse and a broad sword... Wait! No... More like a dragon and an Uzi!
We have all sorts of imaginary stories about him...
We speculate that he's some kind of Homeboy Mafioso, an O.G. with a direct tunnel to Mexicali and a pallet of weed and/or cocaine bricks inside his garage...
I know that's very unkind at best and downright offensive at worst, but intimidating figures always have the quality of bringing out the cowardice in smart-ass jerky types like myself...
In any event, I'd have to say that I actually like my tough, barrio brother, even though our relationship hasn't passed the occasional "What's up, Jefe?" at the corner store during a beer run... After which I naturally gallop home in a panic!
I can't help but imagine him, the King Cholo, in other-worldly terms, like a mighty warrior marching through the quiet village, looking far off into his vast domain, knowing in his heart that it all belongs to him...Even our very cojones!
And so, I say: Long live El Rey...
Oh, and if ever I was to disappear after posting this, well... Let's just say the list of suspects is as short as my life expectancy if this guy sees my Blog!
(...Fat chance of that happening, right? Ha!)
1 comment:
El dibujo de King Cholo intimida, sin duda. Sin embargo y a pesar de tus elucubraciones sobre él, no me preguntes porqué, me lo imagino un tipo "a toda mother". Gracias por llevarnos de paseo por tu barrio forever!
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