America is a Cobb Salad

By: Gus Victoria

This is NOT America.

Many of you reading this I will trust have heard the term ‘melting pot’ to refer to the American population of immigrants all slowly melding into one homogenous culture resembling a big blob of Anglo cheese spiked with various other continental spices. I present to you a different model. One in which our differences are preserved. Together they combine to form something greater than their individual parts without sacrificing that distinct flavor of the constituent ingredients.

I was sitting at the Hollywood Brown Derby Restaurant at Disney’s Hollywood Studios and I had just ordered my very first Cobb Salad. Typically I shy away from all salads, but the Cobb is so legendary and iconic I knew I had to try it. The dish came and was mixed at the table. After a bite or two a paradigm shifted and there I sat just staring at my salad until I exclaimed, “America is a Cobb Salad!” Everyone at the table looked at me incredulously. To be fair there was no preamble to the exclamation. I was just a crazy man yelling at his salad. “No guys, let me explain…”

The melting pot of America is something we grow up with this country. With the various hundreds of cultures, ethnicities, and differences that immigrants to this country bring and have brought since its founding how has the American identity developed into something unique and distinct. This melting pot is a way to explain that. Everything goes in and over time with proximity and the friction of coexistence we lose what we were and transform into a new and nearly homogenous thing. Each slice of the American cheese is the same. That’s the ideal of the theory. However, anyone living here for even a brief time will know that theory is not reality.

THIS is America.

The Cobb is a far better model. The salad, which is delicious by the way, is comprised of quite a few ingredients. In the traditional dish these include iceberg lettuce, watercress, Romaine lettuce, tomato, bacon, chicken, egg, avocado, chives, red-win vinaigrette, and Roquefort cheese. Fresh, vibrant, delicious and completely ruined when an attempt to melt them together is made. As these ingredients were mixed I was skeptical and unsure how it would taste with all those differing flavors. Would the bacon overpower the chicken? How would the egg compare with the Roquefort cheese? To my great surprise all these flavors combined to make the dish far better than any of its single ingredients. The distinctiveness of each flavor was not lost though. I could taste the avocado and the vinaigrette, but they combined magically with the lettuce and tomato, with the chicken and the bacon. The dish blew my mind and opened it to new possibilities.

There was no misguided militia patrolling my dish making sure the avocados didn’t make it to the dish. There was no set of byzantine legal acrobatics needed to have the watercress enjoy its place next to the hard-boiled egg. They freely mixed and mingled, not once losing their taste, but adding to a far greater dish. That is this America I have come to call home.

We cannot continue to think we are a melting pot for that is a dangerous idea that will force us to conform and give up what makes us unique not only individually, but as a country. Walk down the street in just about any city and you will see proof in the buildings, in the food, and in the people that this America is indeed a Cobb Salad.

Axolotl

By: Gus Victoria

My little friend

You are Mexico,

You, more than the eagle

That flies high in our myths,

Mirror our country,

Indicting our actions,

Shaming us,

Your home once was the great Xochimilco,

Today it is a gutter of filth,

Once you swam in crystal pure waters,

Waters that today are a memory,

A distant memory we cherish,

A reality we forget,

Axolotl, my dear water-dog,

Or is death you proclaim?

We bleed as we fight,

You regenerate what you lose,

Would that we could,

We forget our roots,

You live in yours,

Would that we could remember ours,

We are both old and ancient,

Myth and history woven

Into a fabric unbreakable,

We both are dying in that quilt

Wrapped in pride,

Mexico slowly dies,

Axolotl you dear friend die as well,

While the eagle soars

We die.

House Unbuilt

By: Gus Victoria

There is a window

In a house yet unbuilt

That opens to a view

Of a landscape familiar,

If the key could be found.

I walk the house in my dreams,

Searching, ever searching,

For the iron-wrought key

Lost before the house was built,

Unknown and forgotten,

Until that window was discovered,

Behind the frames are cobwebs,

Covering the shelves is dust,

On the walls are memories,

Like the paint

They peel away, dry and empty,

Leaving bare walls

Of aberrant beauty

Where once they hailed

A life now gone,

That window opens to a new sunrise,

Over known ground,

But it remains closed,

Always closed,

Unless the key is found,

Hidden away

In a place unknown,

Hidden away in another dream,

Come now lover,

Come now to this house,

Help me search,

Is the key with you? 

Fruit, Love, Paradox

By: Gus Victoria

It is a fruit that does not spoil,

Though it can intoxicate,

It nourishes.

Destroy it and it grows anew

From the shattered remains

Of a frozen heart,

Timid and scared,

Fearful of the hurt once felt,

‘Go and seek’ is a futile command,

For it is as elusive as it is everpresent,

We see it when we cease to look,

And upon opening our eyes

To this tender flame

They can never close,

And the fire cannot be quenched.

Love in unconquerable

With Faith as its armor

And Hope as its steed,

Death has no domain

Where the words of love are spoken,

Hate can take no root

Where love is unbroken,

What do you wait for today?

Yesterday is gone,

Spent as it was,

Remembered as it is,

Tomorrow is yours,

Squander not a chance.

Spare not a moment.

Live and love

That you may never die,

Live and love,

That your spirit may soar,

Live and love,

You I adore.

Buried Dreams, Broken Promises

By: Gus Victoria

Promises spoken softly,

Wind-carried whispered offerings of a love

Gone before it faded,

Strong as it left,

I, weak in its wake,

You, joyful in retreat,

We, shattered in defeat,

The long-fingered icy grasp

Of solitude stalks

The febrile dreams of desperate hope,

Enclosing fast,

Killing them,

Painfully driving them

To a grave of memories,

Amid a procession of promises,

The spectre of everlasting joy

Is the wraith of could have been,

If you’d the eyes to have seen,

But blind you fought

While blind I sought

The love we forgot.

My Favorite Vampire Stories (And Some Things That Still Scare Me)

A few days ago I asked a couple of questions from you my friends. You gave me some pretty interesting answers as I expected. Well to be fair these are my answers to the same questions.

 What is your favorite vampire story? 


I doubt many Twilight fans read this little blog, but for any that might stray and find themselves here. Sorry Twilight does not count.

 Twilight notwithstanding the vampire story could be from any source and presented in any media form. Sex, danger, and historical reminiscence seemed to be the overriding factors in determining what really was popular. Dracula and Interview With the Vampire were two popular choices; arguably the original modern vampire classic and a new interpretation on the ancient myth that has also since become a classic in its own right. If you know me, you won’t be surprised to know that from a literary standpoint those two are tops for me as well with the added inclusion of Polidori’s The Vampyre.

As films go Nosferatu (1922) is by far my favorite. Also making the list is Shadow of the Vampire (2000); a movie about the filming of the original Nosferatu and where the actor who played the Count in that film, Max Schreck, is imagined to be have been a real vampire that feeds on the cast and crew.

Beyond that I also have to mention I enjoy very much the stories of “real-life” vampires. The story of Arnold Paole who lived in the early 1700’s and was accused of having risen from his grave to hunt and kill his friends and family is one of my favorites because it happened. So real was the fear back then that government officials were sent to these remote parts of the empire in order to investigate such claims.

This creature from Costa Rica STILL haunts my dreams.

 What supernatural creature or phenomenon scares you most?

 This one was fun. All sorts of answers were given! Some were serious, others not so much. Three things scare me more than others.

 The first are things that have been or might have been. Ghosts are one thing, but angry vengeful ghosts capable of acting in our material world terrify me, especially those angry spirits of serial killers. Can they be reasoned with? How? Will I be brave enough to confront it?

 The second takes the first and removes those questions. Demons cannot be reasoned with. I am not talking about the demon your favorite televangelist says is living with you every day and is the cause of every sinful act you make. I am talking about the soldiers, lieutenants, and general of the legions of hell. These are very rare, but very powerful and any indication of such manifestation is enough for me to put on a crucifix and pray until I pass out.

The third is a story from Costa Rica that has plagued me since I was 10 or 11 when I first heard it. She is called La Segua. She appears to men on lonely deserted roads late at night and manifests as a porcelain-skinned woman, incredibly beautiful. Indicating she is alone and in need of a lift she convinces the man to give her a ride. If he does they ride on together in silence. During this time when he looks back towards her he will notice she is gone and in her place is a demon with the skeletal head of a horse with burning red eyes and razor sharp claws and teeth which the demon then uses to bite and claw the man to shreds.

 If you have any more thoughts, tell me, what scares YOU!

A Rant on Religion - A Response to Zealots

By: Gus Victoria

(Several weeks ago there was a debate involving homosexual marriage. I argued that it should not matter who you can marry so long as love is the determining factor. That debate then devolved into a digital shouting match where the so-called religious shouted loudest. One man in particular was so full of hate that the fact he was preaching from the words of a prophet of love and justice was irony in its purest sense. Of course I will write about that particular incident in detail soon, but first I thought it best to put forth my thoughts on those zealots. Anyone that would preach to me ANY message with hate in their heart gets the same response. Some of my friends have probably wondered  why I have ventured away from a religious life I was so close to in the past. This response I hope sets the foundation and sheds some light on my journey to answer that question)

I have read studies that have shown that invariably demons are responsible for all the evil in this world. I have read accounts that all point to the same conclusion; that we are living in the endtimes and that this world will soon descend into a fiery chaos before it slips into a final eternal night. I have seen men and women cry and shed tears as they shout and yell at me and others that we are sinful and will never enter the kingdom of heaven unless we repent. I have known many people that attest absolutely to the brokenness of man. I have seen such conviction move organizations, societies, and even nations. I am here to tell them all in a voice that wells deep within my being and that is anchored in a conviction no less real and no less unwavering than theirs to simply and utterly…fuck off!

This world I have to share with you. It is a reality I have to live with. You are not personally responsible for keeping me here on this planet when I could be exploring the red sand beaches of a terra-formed Mars. No more than I can be blamed for not inventing that technology. However the regressive state that arises from the dogmatic proclamations of the religious is the momentum that makes a sprint to the future a crawl through the molasses of superstition and fear. For every step we take forward in our evolution as a species and a culture we have to take two back to consult with the ghosts of our past instead of fulfilling the promise of the future.

You argue and bicker with each other as well as with me. You hate as you extend the hand of friendship. You embrace me as a brother, but exclude me from your family. I am a statistic. I am but one more soul, one more mind, one more voice to add to your song of conquest. 

It ends tonight. I will never sing for you. I won’t ever be deceived by your friendship for to you even the best friend is worthy of the fires of your hell. Nor do I embrace your God. I hope for the sake of this world and the universe that He is but a figment of your imagination. If He is as you portray him, then the Devil might know more of Justice than that God. I disagree and you may be surprised to know I believe in a deity and pray daily. I love the traditions and the legacies all faiths have left in this world. Every faith that is adhered to by any man or woman is capable of the same good or evil that person is capable of. No demon ever forced a person’s hand, only ever another person. We have freedom to choose and a duty to choose right as reason, good-will, and justice impel us to; three things that all faiths teach and that no faith owns exclusive patents to.

Love is the force that bind us all. To me that is God. Justice is what we know must be done to restore that love. Injustice is a lack of love. All faiths teach this. Tell me then, why is yours right? Why is mine wrong? Put them aside and take my hand and together we will take possession of our future. We can begin to heal this world the moment we learn how to stop hating.