How I got into Scootering: Part Two.

I feel life has many phases. Most of mine revolved around music. As a teenager Hardcore and Punk were my life. Going to shows, stage diving, sing-alongs, and head-bopping to live bands were my thing. As a started getting into my twenties my thirst for new music bloomed. Oh, the late 90's with the help of bands "selling out" to the major labels really opened up possibilities of finding the music i was craving. Record stores started stocking more independent labels and finding out about new bands was a bit easier. Of course this is before the internet changed everything.

Hardcore for me started to become more stagnated and moved away from the punk influence it used to have and became more metal. Punk went mainstream thanks to Epitaph Records, so I went underground. Gravity Records out of San Diego started putting out killer new bands such as: Angel Hair, Clititat Ikatowi, and Mohinder. Kill Rock Stars, K Records and Sub Pop put out music by Nirvana, Karp, Unwound and Sunny Day Real Estate. Dischord and Touch and Go Records in the east putting out releases by: Fugazi, Shellac, etc... I had started down the road to my indie days or as my friend's like to call it: My "white-belt" days.



I had just graduated from continuation school via night school and got my first job at The Wherehouse renting movies and selling music. My father and I just got an apartment together. All was going very well. Until my older brother unknown to us had been suffering from schizophrenia. He had been self medicating himself for years with drugs and alcohol. My mom had him in and out of rehab since he was a teenager. We thought he was doing better. He had a job and was making some cash. Where was the cash going? Drugs, of course. I had noticed he had become increasing erratic and started robbing us, my friends, and anyone who had anything worth selling. It was horrible. He had became increasingly violent as well. He had broke his girlfriend's jaw on two separate occasions. He spent time in jail on both counts and then when he got out he went right back to her and the drugs. My dad and I took pity on him and let him stay with us. A neighbor and schoolmate of mine who lived in the complex we moved into had just started hanging out with him. They had a friendship of getting high together.

One afternoon I come home to find my dad's lock to his bedroom broken. I has like, here we go... My brother is on another bender. I bet he broke into his room looking for money. The next thing I know the police are barging through the front door on the lookout for him. FUCK, what did he do now?! Him and the neighbor had been up to no good, getting high and what not, got into an argument about something, and then my brother proceeds to stab him multiple times in the chest, broke him arm, and almost kills the kid. So my dad and I get kicked out of our apartment, I end up living with a friend trying to save money for a place to live. My dad ends up with his son, who I couldn't stand at the time. And my brother ends up getting caught weeks later and get sentenced to life in prison compliments from the newly voted three strikes you're out initiative.



Since I had drank a couple of beers when I was hanging out with the Skinheads a year earlier and according to the laws of Straight Edge I wasn't allowed to be truly claim Straight Edge again. Apparently mistakes are not allowed in Straight Edge nor forgiven. I still hung out with them though I started putting on my own shows at my cousin's house and still went to shows and hungout. Snapcase, Refused, and Unbroken were still some of my favorite Hardcore bands of the time so you'd still catch me at one of their shows. Botch had been on tour and my friends were throwing an after party for them in Riverside. At the party, my friend's fiancé at the time were planning on moving to Victoria to get married. His fiancé convinced me and my friend David to move to Seattle, split the cost of the moving truck, move into her friend's apartment, while they head north to be together to Canada. Dave and I didn't have much going on at the time. So we saved up for it and moved. I had visited Seattle before then scouted the apartment and made sure things went smooth with the move.

Saying goodbye to your parents is a very difficult thing to do. That being said... I won't go into it. I said my goodbyes them, my friends, got in the moving van, and headed north. We happened to catch the tail-end of the Seattle blizzard of 96'. There was snow everywhere. Not something you see in California often or at all. We got to our new apartment, unloaded our stuff, and I caught our first New Year's Eve at the Needle. We said goodbyes again to our friends heading to Canada as Dave and I head into our adventures in our new city.



Seattle. Talk about culture shock. Being Latino and into the indie scene was strange. But the kids into the scene were way nicer then the Straight Edge kids here. I had met some kids from Seattle before the move but they just weren't the same as my friend's back home. It was this moment when I realized that Straight Edge was a very white middle-upper class scene and was not for me. It took me at least six months to actually meet people. (Later I would realised it was just the "Seattle Freeze.")I had this shitty food court job in Westlake Center. If it wasn't the hot punk girl that worked at this shop near the food court. I'd be fucked. She took me to "right" bar to hang out: Linda's Taverm. Now once you start meeting people in Seattle. You eventually get to meet "everyone" in Seattle. It's a small city. Small.. if you run with "the scene."

The scene was a mixture of college kids who moved here to go to University of Washington and the other half were kids like me and moved up here to trying something different.

New on the Ipod...

Listening to a lot of Glass Candy... I resist for a long time like I do with a lot of over hyped artists. I've opened up for this band a hand full of time years ago and only now I am really starting to grow into them...

How I got into Scootering: Part One.

Where do I start? It's all very, very, very fuzzy. Let's start at the beginning. Let's go all the way back to High School shall we... This all takes place around 1994. I used to be really into skateboarding. When I wasn't in school I'd be on my board. I had just discovered Hardcore and Punk thanks to a friend of a friend and I was all about it. In your teens It's all about finding out your identity. I was never into drugs or booze and I had found a clique of friends that fit in for awhile, but how can you truly know yourself if you don't step out the norm. I had been Straight Edge for awhile. I was never really into the Music that much. Don't get me wrong I love Gorilla Biscuits, Chain of Strength, and Minor Threat. Let's be honest. It was the 90's and a lot of straight edge music at the time sucked. Terrible recordings and really bad angst-y lyrics.

I had recently declined my Straight Edge-ness and started hangout with some of the Skinheads in my town. I have always been fascinated by this bunch. The hypocrisy of Skinheads in High School is pretty hilarious as I look back. I would say maybe seven-eighths were actual Skinheads who actually had jobs while a small minority were rebellious rich kids living off their parents or myself actually poor living off my mom. And a hilarious sight I was... I couldn't afford the proper clothes. So just imagine me with a shaved head, baggy clothes, braces, and hanging out with a bunch of Skinheads. It was pretty awesome. With most teens at the time there was a lot of inner turmoil within the clique and of course the "racist" rich kids needed a lesson taught to them and are clique didn't get along with those assholes. The "Traditionalist" all converged at my Mom's apartment because we could get away with it. My Mom worked at night which meant the coast was clear to get drunk or whatever. My older brother who lived there was a speed junky and always up for a party. My brother Kenny was fucking insane and down to fight pretty much anyone. He already looked like a skinhead: shaved head, tall, white and crazy as fuck. It didn't take more than free beer to get him into hangout with us and getting into trouble. The lot was fucking afraid of my brother and for good reason. He is now serving a life-sentence in Folsom State Prison if that gives you a general idea of how crazy my brother is/was.

As the party progressed there had been talk of settling the score between the cliques of "skins" at the Bowl downtown. We we're all getting fueled up for it at my Mom's apartment. One of the Skins in our clique had invited these two Skins from the LA to come hangout, get drunk, and fuck shit up. They arrived at our apartment complex parking lot via Vespa. And that was the first time I've ever seen a Vespa. I'm pretty sure they both arrived on P series. It blew my fucking mind. How fucking cool is that? Two Skins on fucking Vespas. All I'd ever known about motorcycles were Harley's because my Dad owned a couple. Dirt bikes, because my brother got one for Christmas and rode the shit out of it on my Dad's ranch. And ATC's because it had three wheels and I was allowed to ride it at age eleven. My dad still doesn't know I flipped that fucker over and almost landed that thing on myself. This is before they got banned because of said incidents occurring. This isn't how I came into loving Vespa. This is just my story of my first time actually seeing a Vespa Scooter and associating it with people who ride them.

Long story short. We never got to fight anyone because the cops showed up. The car I was in got pulled over because we were circling the Bowl look for strays from the fight. We were questioned by the cops but they couldn't do anything because nothing ever happened besides some of us arguing with the other skins in a public space. I hung out with these kids a little while longer but ended up going back to skateboarding, straight edge and going to shows. The skinheads I mentioned settled their feud and became more violent. A couple years later they ended up beating up and killing a homeless man for no reason. Some got away while one got the short end of the stick and is doing time... I never seen those two Skins on Vespas ever again. And I didn't see another Vespa again until 98' and that's for another story.


... To Be Continued.

Oldie but goodie.

New Favorite song...

Jagwar Pa "Come and save me." So good.

Hello Blog... Long time, no post.

Well since I've had numerous people ask me how to make tamales. I've decided to just blog about it. So Starting today. I will be posting how I make my delicious pork tamales. Enjoy!