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He would always have that over me. He knew in his flesh what I could only read about and I read a lot.
In the cultural theory class I took with Sandoval, she carefully marked up my papers. Above a generalization I made about the Cuban American population in Miami she once wrote in purple ink: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I taped that page to my wall above my desk.
If I was sad, I listened to Radiohead. If I was angry, I listened to Fiona Apple. If I was feeling slutty I listened to The Neptunes. Those were my three states.
Did my classmates ever think of us? I wanted to reach my hand into their brains through their ears and scratch in new grooves with my acrylic nails and then they would care, it was an untapped neural pathway, it just needed a little prodding along.
