When I was a skinny, ackward adolescent circa 1967, I got into the practice of lifting weights, not necessarily with the Charles Atlas advertisement in mind or religiously. It was just a certain discomfort with the construction of my muscle less body.
I got some used steel plates, bars and dumbbells. Since I had some tools, I was able to build a wooden bench with stands for bench presses, perhaps one of the boring exercises in a chest routine. My favorite exercises were those for triceps, deltoids and biceps. Having big legs I had not to worry about that part of my body. The thing is that after some time, I was no longer the same as in the beggining of this story. Some volume in my upper
body started developing and until this day, some of it, still shows below the
fat tissue.
In those early days Reg Park, Larry Scott, Sergio Oliva, Franco Columbo, and Steve Reeves of Hercules and Roman Empire films fame were among the top. Of this group, the best by a mile, an six continents was the one and only SERGIO OLIVA. But had too great defects which one was bigger
you can decide. He was black and hispanic.
Born in 1941, Oliva was a weightlifter with the Cuban team in the 1961 PanAmerican Games in Jamaica or whatever. The whole group requested
political asylum, that as you should have expected, was granted.
Lived in different USA states, with different jobs until landing in Chicago. Six years later won the biggest of them all titles in bodybuilding: MR. OLYMPIA. He was superb with twenty inches of arms without steroids, there were no such drugs then. The most symmetric, massive body in my opinion then, and now, forty two years later.
But black people do not look good in photographs. It does not matter if it is black and white photograph in which they seem negatives or color ones. It had to do with
some technical issue with films or cameras. What the hell, you all know what I mean. If this was on purpose or not is now meaningless.
After winning tree years in a row, the MR. Olympia, an AUSTRIAN fellow by the name of
Arnold Schwarzenegger appeared on the scene and that was that for Oliva. Arnold, a big, really big fellow of white skin. He had the biggest body in history of this sport? Even though Arnold was popular among judges for reasons beyond body definition, volume and symmetric proportions, in my humble
almost a habit by now, opinion, Oliva had more perfection, but there was another defect...besides the first two, he was a small fellow. Perhaps 5'10'',
at the most.
The taste in the public regarding musculature, size, definition was changing. The sport, underestimated, body builders perceived as freaks, changed. Arnold with great marketing skills changed all that..But I am not getting into that, do your own research. And will not mention those real
circus freaks: women bodybuilders.
This is the Antigonum Cajan bodybuilding story. It was fun. Got a chance
of lifting with some guys, that life treated not so well and became scum bags. Fernando Monteverde and Luis Aviles, subjects of a previous anecdote, alon Juan David Hernandez from Savarona.
I just started body working recently, with a thread mill and stationary bycicle.
Perhaps, god willing I will be beautiful again. But not with the desire
of showing myself around. Just to be able to weed my garden, prune the
ground covers without losing my breath. THE END.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
I DREAMT THAT I WAS HAPPY
LAST NIGHT, while asleep, what is written on the tittle took place. Had it had been otherwise it would have been, 'while dreaming awake'. This guy was
serving a drink putting ten times the amount of sugar/salt in it. As I told
him, (in the dream), of his measuring stupidity, he inquired: " Are you not
afraid of waking up to find that you are no longer happy"?
Well, not really. It is better to feel some sort of happiness for one minute, even when asleep, than waking up, opening my eyes and leaving the house. Cracked, uneven, dirty, noisy, streets, sidewalks,
graffiti smeared abandoned buildings, bums, junkies and so on and so forth. Mutilated trees, architecture barriers, cars parked on the sidewalks, garbage, traffic
jams, cars parked in every imaginable space. This is a nightmare. Puerto Ruido. Why did I come back to this?
But all is not lost. Yesterday, Eliezer, a pal from Savarona, from twenty years ago, or is it thirty, sent an email, a year after I gave him
my address, to have a couple. This guy is a mechanic, often smelling of
grease, was an adequate basketball player, some insight, great sense of
humor and a strange raspy voice. Dark as the night with a great smile.
One of the few, perhaps two people from the past who has made the effort
to reconnect.
It is still disconcerting the lazyness of most people to keep some friendship, distant or not. Even with emails. I have this other friend,
a guy looking pretty much as James Stewart with glasses, similar demeanor in those movies he was a lawyer..
Martin Anderson, I will call him. A civil court interpreter in Manhattan
where I used to work in the same capacity. His wife is of the oriental persuasion, China to be exact. She works in the textile industry and recently, both made a trip to the mainland and Hong Kong, that gambling, and financial meca.
I noticed that Martin in his messages only mentioned anecdotes about interpreters
he disliked or could not tolerate. Ingrid Caronia, a fat, Mr. Peanuts,
or the Michelin guy/gal, kind of morbid obese shape, who was caught in the elevator video camaras of the Civil Court in Manhattan, with the purse of another employee or theft. Instead of firing this so so interpreter, thanks to the union and all that bureaucratic crap, the thief is still working with no firing in sight. In the CIVIL COURT, believe it or not.
The other pain in the ass, with the looks of a Pakistani or Freddy Fender,
the late Tex-Mex bilingual ranchero style singer; is Pedro whatever I forgot his last name. Of early Puertorican heritage, he speaks Spanish pretty well and English as his mother tongue. The problem with this Pedro, is that never understood the CODE of ETHICS of the interpreter.
You are not a social worker, one is not supossed to advocate for the populace in court for not paying the rent, living in apartments without
the lease, or destroying, making partitions in the rented property, or if there are repairs to be made. These
are the main issues interpreters deal day to day; besides customer services regarding court orders and filing necessary documents to
avoid monetary judgements and eviction notices.
Landlord lawyers, judges, court lawyers had a dislike for him because of his constant advocacy, complicating the whole process for everyone always asuming the tennant was the victim.
Where was I? O got it...Martin Anderson.
I got to visit Martin Anderson on his nice Staten Island residence. Had more than a couple of fine beers and single malts, listened to some LP's on
his stereo, had some exquisite Chinese gastronomy at home and innumerable conversations at work, after work and so on.
When I returned to Puerto Rico, the communication lasted for some time.
It made sense since it was not a one track, meaningless sending of NAJIT communications or silly jokes as in a chain letter sent from one to another. We wrote about plants, horticulture, music, politics and other issues.
What is my beef? After I started writing the siamese blog to this one and
got a little confidence, not of my writing, but of the subject matter, I sent
the link about ten times. Without any response or mention of it. Until one day I got really irate at the indifference and inquired with the required bluntness of the situation...
The response of Martin, the so much appreciated friend? OH, I THOUGHT IT WAS A MISTAKE! Believe it or not.. That was the response
of a great person, excellent translator of the COMMUNIST persuassion, a fanatic book worm, reading ten books a week,
translator of some book, perhaps the first, about some CUBAN-CHINESE
Commander in the Angolan War during the fight for independence.
I read the book and gave my opinion...But Martin that old chap, never
had the chance, to read one of this humble blogs and offer some feedback.
Good or Bad. It that too much to ask?
Since apparently, over two thousand six hundred people have check
them out, it does not matter. Screw you Martin. Hugs and kisses for
the old times when you could relate and write besides chain letters, lame jokes and emails from NAJIT.
serving a drink putting ten times the amount of sugar/salt in it. As I told
him, (in the dream), of his measuring stupidity, he inquired: " Are you not
afraid of waking up to find that you are no longer happy"?
Well, not really. It is better to feel some sort of happiness for one minute, even when asleep, than waking up, opening my eyes and leaving the house. Cracked, uneven, dirty, noisy, streets, sidewalks,
graffiti smeared abandoned buildings, bums, junkies and so on and so forth. Mutilated trees, architecture barriers, cars parked on the sidewalks, garbage, traffic
jams, cars parked in every imaginable space. This is a nightmare. Puerto Ruido. Why did I come back to this?
But all is not lost. Yesterday, Eliezer, a pal from Savarona, from twenty years ago, or is it thirty, sent an email, a year after I gave him
my address, to have a couple. This guy is a mechanic, often smelling of
grease, was an adequate basketball player, some insight, great sense of
humor and a strange raspy voice. Dark as the night with a great smile.
One of the few, perhaps two people from the past who has made the effort
to reconnect.
It is still disconcerting the lazyness of most people to keep some friendship, distant or not. Even with emails. I have this other friend,
a guy looking pretty much as James Stewart with glasses, similar demeanor in those movies he was a lawyer..
Martin Anderson, I will call him. A civil court interpreter in Manhattan
where I used to work in the same capacity. His wife is of the oriental persuasion, China to be exact. She works in the textile industry and recently, both made a trip to the mainland and Hong Kong, that gambling, and financial meca.
I noticed that Martin in his messages only mentioned anecdotes about interpreters
he disliked or could not tolerate. Ingrid Caronia, a fat, Mr. Peanuts,
or the Michelin guy/gal, kind of morbid obese shape, who was caught in the elevator video camaras of the Civil Court in Manhattan, with the purse of another employee or theft. Instead of firing this so so interpreter, thanks to the union and all that bureaucratic crap, the thief is still working with no firing in sight. In the CIVIL COURT, believe it or not.
The other pain in the ass, with the looks of a Pakistani or Freddy Fender,
the late Tex-Mex bilingual ranchero style singer; is Pedro whatever I forgot his last name. Of early Puertorican heritage, he speaks Spanish pretty well and English as his mother tongue. The problem with this Pedro, is that never understood the CODE of ETHICS of the interpreter.
You are not a social worker, one is not supossed to advocate for the populace in court for not paying the rent, living in apartments without
the lease, or destroying, making partitions in the rented property, or if there are repairs to be made. These
are the main issues interpreters deal day to day; besides customer services regarding court orders and filing necessary documents to
avoid monetary judgements and eviction notices.
Landlord lawyers, judges, court lawyers had a dislike for him because of his constant advocacy, complicating the whole process for everyone always asuming the tennant was the victim.
Where was I? O got it...Martin Anderson.
I got to visit Martin Anderson on his nice Staten Island residence. Had more than a couple of fine beers and single malts, listened to some LP's on
his stereo, had some exquisite Chinese gastronomy at home and innumerable conversations at work, after work and so on.
When I returned to Puerto Rico, the communication lasted for some time.
It made sense since it was not a one track, meaningless sending of NAJIT communications or silly jokes as in a chain letter sent from one to another. We wrote about plants, horticulture, music, politics and other issues.
What is my beef? After I started writing the siamese blog to this one and
got a little confidence, not of my writing, but of the subject matter, I sent
the link about ten times. Without any response or mention of it. Until one day I got really irate at the indifference and inquired with the required bluntness of the situation...
The response of Martin, the so much appreciated friend? OH, I THOUGHT IT WAS A MISTAKE! Believe it or not.. That was the response
of a great person, excellent translator of the COMMUNIST persuassion, a fanatic book worm, reading ten books a week,
translator of some book, perhaps the first, about some CUBAN-CHINESE
Commander in the Angolan War during the fight for independence.
I read the book and gave my opinion...But Martin that old chap, never
had the chance, to read one of this humble blogs and offer some feedback.
Good or Bad. It that too much to ask?
Since apparently, over two thousand six hundred people have check
them out, it does not matter. Screw you Martin. Hugs and kisses for
the old times when you could relate and write besides chain letters, lame jokes and emails from NAJIT.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
COUNTING THE BLESSINGS WHATEVER THAT MAY BE...
I HAVE felt some bloguers block, a new coinnage. It is perhaps consequence of the raindrops falling on my head for the last nine days of MAY. There is not much to do outside, except watching the vegetation
from the distance. Or to remember, those years in New England during the fall, having some eggs, sausages, pancakes with maple syrup from Vermont and enjoying the cool, dark, gray days of melancholy.. as in a Tom Waits blues tune...Fortunately, no diseases in the garden, as in the past...
THERE are news on the isle ecoturist front. On Sunday, I made the round transoceanic trip from SAN JUAN to CATANHO CITY, in the ferry for a buck. It takes about ten minutes, you can watch buildings, salty water and some vegetation.
In Catanho, the boat terminal looks certainly thirdworldish, with lots of water leaking either from the roof, of brought to the tacky floors by the
Atlantic ocean. There are too many employees on these ferries and both
terminals. However, the noise is minimal and the boats are fast, clean.
The rubber seats with faded out paint, reminds one of some
emergency room seats in Bagdad or Tegucigalpa.
I took a nice stroll, landing in a rather big liquor store and horse betting agency. I had a couple with chasers, to celebrate this transoceanic adventure. To make the story more strange we encountered PITO, the accountant, from our bohemian meetings in Santurce.
He is not drinking, except for sour cranberry juice. Whe did chat about the
economical crisis in PUERTO RUIDO; thirty thousand public employees that soon will be unemployed. My stance on this issue is simple and clear.
The first time I herd anyone mentioning this unnecessary amount of
public employees, was probably twenty/thirty years ago. Hernandez Agosto is his name, a former senator from the RED party. I still can not believe it. Declaring to the news media that PUERTO RUIDO had seventy thousand people working
for the governement in excess, but they could not be fired, because they
are PARENTS.
SINCE I decided at fifteen not to have children, I do not know, understand, tolerate this excuse not to do something. I reiterate. THE STATE is not a phIlanthropic enterprise. The CHURCH IS, or should be in theory. In PUERTO RUIDO there are hundreds of Protestant churches,
Catholics, Jehova's, Adventists, you name it... And all these thirty thousand future unemployed are probably members of these multitude
of churches.
PARENTS seem to monopolize the atttention of the STATE. They need/want free HOSPITALS, SCHOOLS, NURSERIES, and such. When you ponder, what is the STATE doing for the single people? Except billing them more as punishment for not having children with higher income tax contributions and no exemptions?
The STATE is responsible for having created this monster of people getting impregnated unconsciusly, delivering babies left and right, expecting all the above mentioned services for FREE, nothing in return.
Padres de familia, (parents) that is the catch, pet, symbol, to make us
feel some pity for erroneous decisions from individuals, couples the community. Sorry, I do not buy that. One should be responsible for
what we decided, right or wrong.
The relation if anyone can see it, between the environment and over population growth is evident. More houses, buildings, roads, parkings,
highways, destruction of the earth... Less and less arable land...So these parents can live in a concrete house, with a postal stamp turf yard and a car parked in front.. and so on an so forth.
They expected to live happily ever after, but reality struck.
from the distance. Or to remember, those years in New England during the fall, having some eggs, sausages, pancakes with maple syrup from Vermont and enjoying the cool, dark, gray days of melancholy.. as in a Tom Waits blues tune...Fortunately, no diseases in the garden, as in the past...
THERE are news on the isle ecoturist front. On Sunday, I made the round transoceanic trip from SAN JUAN to CATANHO CITY, in the ferry for a buck. It takes about ten minutes, you can watch buildings, salty water and some vegetation.
In Catanho, the boat terminal looks certainly thirdworldish, with lots of water leaking either from the roof, of brought to the tacky floors by the
Atlantic ocean. There are too many employees on these ferries and both
terminals. However, the noise is minimal and the boats are fast, clean.
The rubber seats with faded out paint, reminds one of some
emergency room seats in Bagdad or Tegucigalpa.
I took a nice stroll, landing in a rather big liquor store and horse betting agency. I had a couple with chasers, to celebrate this transoceanic adventure. To make the story more strange we encountered PITO, the accountant, from our bohemian meetings in Santurce.
He is not drinking, except for sour cranberry juice. Whe did chat about the
economical crisis in PUERTO RUIDO; thirty thousand public employees that soon will be unemployed. My stance on this issue is simple and clear.
The first time I herd anyone mentioning this unnecessary amount of
public employees, was probably twenty/thirty years ago. Hernandez Agosto is his name, a former senator from the RED party. I still can not believe it. Declaring to the news media that PUERTO RUIDO had seventy thousand people working
for the governement in excess, but they could not be fired, because they
are PARENTS.
SINCE I decided at fifteen not to have children, I do not know, understand, tolerate this excuse not to do something. I reiterate. THE STATE is not a phIlanthropic enterprise. The CHURCH IS, or should be in theory. In PUERTO RUIDO there are hundreds of Protestant churches,
Catholics, Jehova's, Adventists, you name it... And all these thirty thousand future unemployed are probably members of these multitude
of churches.
PARENTS seem to monopolize the atttention of the STATE. They need/want free HOSPITALS, SCHOOLS, NURSERIES, and such. When you ponder, what is the STATE doing for the single people? Except billing them more as punishment for not having children with higher income tax contributions and no exemptions?
The STATE is responsible for having created this monster of people getting impregnated unconsciusly, delivering babies left and right, expecting all the above mentioned services for FREE, nothing in return.
Padres de familia, (parents) that is the catch, pet, symbol, to make us
feel some pity for erroneous decisions from individuals, couples the community. Sorry, I do not buy that. One should be responsible for
what we decided, right or wrong.
The relation if anyone can see it, between the environment and over population growth is evident. More houses, buildings, roads, parkings,
highways, destruction of the earth... Less and less arable land...So these parents can live in a concrete house, with a postal stamp turf yard and a car parked in front.. and so on an so forth.
They expected to live happily ever after, but reality struck.
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