Saturday, October 12, 2013
Friday, September 27, 2013
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Latino's & Silicon Valley
Latinos making inroads in Silicon Valley
http://www.marketplace.org/topics/tech/latinos-making-inroads-silicon-valley 
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Part Four Spain
She was a Bartender but I didn't know she was gonna be a Witch..
( Previously)
Lucky for me, Marcella was kind enough to, not only put the needle on the record again, but inject a shot of fantasy and reality into the side of my neck with her syringe disguised in her sultry voice. As she was ejecting her fluid voice in a short stream of words, that were not going to clean my wounds of deprived attention and physical touch, but for the moment let me forget how bad they were hurting. I could feel what my whiskey had been hired to do that night, but the Greek gods had something else in mind. I don't know the reason why she decided to strike a conversation with me. I was dressed pretty casual, my 501 Jeans, a Navy issued T-shirt and what I call my "Old dog". A battered old black leather jacket that had wrinkles of stories to tell. And its (Old dog) side kicks, my leather boots. I spoke Spanish from conception, parents were from South America, so it was easy "To do as the Romans do when in Rome".
(continued 4th Post)
She had that raspy type of voice that I like, just enough to make me feel something move. I have had many experiences growing up but I learned that there was two tings that would always get to me; a confident smart woman and the voice. Something about the voice. I know that was three but if you are going to be detail oriented then your missing the point. She asked if I wanted another drink very well knowing that I already had one from and without hesitation I responded with a curious smile and frown. I have one but you don't. I could see her eyes saying "gotcha", no I don't do I. Would like one? Yes, that's nice of you. I would normally be vaccinated for this obvious assault but her tight blouse that gave hint to her excitement of being able to sucker me into a cold beer on this hot August night was visible. Her belly button was showing and her jeans, her jeans; while they were not 501's they looked like it took her at least five minutes getting them on this morning. The challenge would definitely be removing them.
Two beers later and leaning across the table to hear each other talk, it was obvious that this place was jumping and I had this nineteen year local Spaniard talking to me in this Miley voice that was never letting me down sense she first started moving her lips. As it turned out my continued record of not dating younger ladies was in tact. It was her birthday that weekend and she had me by a few Months. By now I had my cross hairs aimed at Marcella but glancing periodically at my Isabel the beautiful bartender that seemed too busy to pay attention to me. I didn't know where this conversation was going but I was not wasting one second thinking. I was just in the moment and enjoying the entire scene and its possibilities. Black Dog came on and all the sudden I was in the zone. I could do no wrong. She could have moved on and just thanked me for the two beers but we were both laughing and enjoying the conversation. As if in a magic spell. I pressed on to see what Marcella was all about.
She was in summer vacation and her mom was with her boyfriend, daddy was MIA; she usually came to this wall flower of a spot with her girlfriends - that were already at the bar earlier in the day but didn't come back. That was winded. At this point she could of told me she was a Catholic Nun and I still would have put the moves on her. She was getting to me. She would have been better off leaving me and letting me drown in my whiskey than sticking around. Instead of mellowing out I felt like a Siberian Tiger being teased by a fresh kill. I had a room at the local hotel by the beach, room 13. I always picked that number because I thought it to be lucky. Till this day I'm still trying to prove that it is. I finally got the courage to tell her that I was going to head back and go pass out. While in my head I was hoping she would say no or ask to come along. The latter more preferably. Like a tiger stretching his claws I was awaiting her answer with calculated anticipation. But you only had three beers. I was here before you. Besides I have beer back at my room and walking drunk is not a good idea for a American in a strange land. I'm scared of what could happen to me. She laughed. You want me to walk you to your Hotel. Like my bodyguard? Yes!
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Love over Power
The illusion of giving victory softly lands like a flowers petal but in multitudes like a symphony of control chaos. Only to be savored like the taste of HER honey that drips slowly from his fingers before applying the tip of his tongue to taste HIS victory. Only a true Man knows that his power is perpetuated, slowly preserved (something valued) from oblivion or extinction. His knowledge of knowing that life is only delicious with the woman that can satisfy him through
Mind, Spirit,
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Part Three Spain
She was a Bartender but I didn't know she was gonna be a Witch..
witch
/wiCH/
Noun
| A woman thought to have evil magic powers. Witches are popularly depicted as wearing a black cloak and pointed hat, and flying on a...Continued (3rd Post). |
This wouldn't last. It seemed like the pretty gal Marcella had a tracking device because before I could order another drink, the whole bar was filled with sailors, locals and me. Great!
This particular bar in the back allies of Barcelona, far from my safety, that had no curb appeal at all. Literally! No sidewalk, no curb. It was hidden from any main street or even side street. With no curb in its path, a paved alley by cobblestone that was winding upward; it was quietly hidden with only the sound of Led Zeppelin coming out of this windowless camouflaged wall, that was oblong in shape in its interior.With the smell of alcohol and tobacco, I was quite happy for a moment. Before this mob rush that took over, I was sitting at the far right booth looking up at this television that was mounted in the corner above me, showing amazing sports footage of everything from European car races to epic fails from all kinds. And of course the hot bikini girls in between. All the elements for a lonely sailor like myself to spend his R&R and money.
I heard Isabel (bartender) say something, and as I looked over my right shoulder (your left, lol) I could see Marcella; the girl who would become my reason for coming back to Isabel. I could see or sense Isabel monitoring my time when glancing at Marcella. It was a swift glance, I didn't want to give away the fact that my entire sensory glands and hormones were jumping for joy. Come on! Out at sea for almost a month with, yes again, five thousand swinging dicks, and I'm the only guy in this forsaken little bar with two very beautiful women that couldn't be nothing alike. And my favorite band playing in the background! You would be jumping for joy too.
My unexpected bliss of utopia lasted for about ten minutes, in utopia time - twenty maybe thirty minutes. Marcella was confident in her presence. She new she had the weapons for destruction for any American sailor, or man, for that matter. She was intense in her deliberate manners and I wanted non of it. Okay, I did but I was already stuck on Isabel. My early Christmas present. She captured my mind before capturing the rest of me, and that is all it took to make herself the focus my imagination. It's not as if we spoke, she didn't say anything witty or anything at all for the record. Maybe she had already began to cast her spell upon my vulnerability. I was hers and didn't even know it. As I was indulging in this desire of these beauties inside my overactive imagination, while watching the television above me; I went without noticing that this small venue with the paint peeling off its walls with character and appeal, only to me, had filled up with locals and more sailors. So much for my fantasy, it came to a scratching halt like someone taking the needle off a record and scratching it across.
Lucky for me, Marcella was kind enough to, not only put the needle on the record again, but inject a shot of fantasy and reality into the side of my neck with her syringe disguised in her sultry voice. As she was ejecting her fluid voice in a short stream of words, that were not going to clean my wounds of deprived attention and physical touch, but for the moment let me forget how bad they were hurting. I could feel what my whiskey had been hired to do that night, but the Greek gods had something else in mind. I don't know the reason why she decided to strike a conversation with me. I was dressed pretty casual, my 501 Jeans, a Navy issued T-shirt and what I call my "Old dog". A battered old black leather jacket that had wrinkles of stories to tell. And its (Old dog) side kicks, my leather boots. I spoke Spanish from conception, parents were from South America, so it was easy "To do as the Romans do when in Rome".
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Part Two Spain
She was a Bartender but I didn't know she was gonna be a Witch..
witch
/wiCH/
Noun
| |
Verb
CONTINUED
This particular gift was wrapped in (almost) a see through summer dress with delicate spaghetti straps. It was hot outside and in, and being sway by the music, cold drink, a fan overhead, and the subtle hint of her soap cleansed body; you knew something was going to happen. But it not this night, at least not with her. As I sat and ordered drinks from her and tried to strike a conversation in this little dive in the gut of Palma de Mallorca. Where we were told not to go, in comes this beautiful girl with a sass about her and a refreshing spunk. Later I found out that the bartender and (lets just say her name is) Marcella, were of the same age. It's funny how having a job makes you seem older or more mature. Marcella epidemically had no choice but to make I contact with me since I was only one of two at this point. The second would be Isabel the Bartender. This was a nice gift considering that I was use to being stuck on a vessel with five thousand swinging dicks for a month at a time. This wouldn't last. It seemed like the pretty gal Marcella had a tracking device because before I could order another drink, the whole bar was filled with sailors, locals and me. Great!
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