Jose Padua: My Introduction to the Hierarchy of Beings
I must admit that when I was a child one of the first things that made me appreciate my tropical roots was the mango. When I dug into its rough … Continue reading
Jose Padua: A Slightly Hard-Boiled History of my Life as it Moves Slowly away from Cities
It was the summer of 1996. I’d just gotten the money from my discrimination settlement, so Heather and I celebrated by meeting in the great city of Chicago when her … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Courtesy
While stopped at a light this afternoon the big black pickup truck beside me was playing something like Toby Keith while I was sitting in my minivan playing “Right Off” … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Purity
There is no purity in our house, we are dirty like cats in the litter. We get where we’re going just the same. Our windows aren’t clean, full of smudge … Continue reading
Jose Padua: The Sound of Music
When I realized that the former prostitute and now homeless old woman who sat at the stone bench facing the Civil War nurses memorial always smelled so bad because whenever … Continue reading
Jose Padua: The Age of Resistance
When all the things I used to whisperdecline into words left unheard like liquid spilling from a cup away from the tongue and onto the table is when I will … Continue reading
Jose Padua: The Cold War of my American Dream
It was in the sixth grade when Sister Geraldine took us bad listeners and day dreamers out into the hall one afternoon to repeat after her, one by one, “The … Continue reading
Jose Padua: I have Driven from the Forest and the Mountains
I have driven from the forest and the mountains through snow, wind, and rain and various times of day, in heat and in cold, during love and during hatred, with … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Fear and Whiskey
To the young actor between roles who was my supervisor at my temporary data entry job at Goldman Sachs, and who tried to make me get his coffee when … Continue reading
Jose Padua: The Angel Of 11th Street
At the end of another drunken week of beer and whiskey and wine I walked home and on the street I met a woman who bummed a cigarette from … Continue reading
Jose Padua: The Sight of my Neighbor Limping
The sight of my neighbor limping to his front door in the dim, late-evening light, walking from his truck, down the driveway to the sidewalk, then toward the front … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Words and Letters
Originally posted on Shenandoah Breakdown:
When I was in first grade I hated the box of little cardboard squares with the letters printed on them, because whenever they took it…
Jose Padua: So Often It’s the Beaten
So often it’s the beaten old, paint peeling downtown house with the broken bicycle on the front porch and uncut grass covering the tiny front yard that has a … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Peacocks
When it’s done right, the third movement of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No 3 rocks harder than nearly anything else in music, except perhaps Raw Power by the Stooges. You … Continue reading
