Chola without a cause (painted)

So this is the finished piece of "Chola with out a cause a.k.a Rosi" Hope you guys dig it. You can search the archives for the original story. Once again I would like to thank Phil Holland for doing such an awesome job of photographing this piece.

Life and a Breakfast Burrito
The alarm clock awakens me rudely on Saturday morning. I crawl out of bed with my clothes still on, a hangover, and a napkin from a taco stand called "Tacos El Halcon". The previous night, I had gone bar hoping in Downey, trying to fill an emptiness left by an old rose who decided to bloom in another mans garden. I jump in the shower and brush my teeth. The rest of the house mates are still asleep, as any decent human being should be on a Saturday morning. I used to wake up and watch cartoons back in the Saturdays of my childhood. Later in my teens I used to wake up and go to yard sales with my brother. Today I wake up dizzy and cold and do handyman side jobs to make ends meet. My father always said, "You cant complain when there's work."

I gather my tool box and drill and proceed out the door. Today I'm lucky to be working for a pretty doll called Carla Behnam who lives in the Hollywood Hills. That woman, unknowingly, has gotten me out of so many binds that their is nothing I wouldn't do for her. I jump in the red Jeep I borrowed from my friend and head up Crenshaw, hang a left at Wilsher, then a right on Highland, and cut straight through Hollywood toward Universal City. I stop at a Jack in the Box and buy a meaty breakfast burrito. I opt out on buying the combo special 'cause I was back on the poor mans diet. I only got 6 bucks in my pocket and I'm hoping that 4 bucks of gas will get me back home just in case Miss Behnam decides to pay me with a check.

I chomp away at my stale ass under cooked Meaty Breakfast Burrito all the way up Highland ave. and ponder a question Ive have asked myself many times "Is it really worth it?" I drive and wonder what could have been if I chose to be a carpenter instead of a sculptor, like my dad wanted. I should have joined the carpenters local union 409, I hear they start you off at 20 to 25 bucks and hour, one could make a decent living doing that their whole life. Or maybe, I should have used my hook ups down at the docks and became a long shore men, I hear those dudes make major bucks unloading and loading crap into those big containers. Or maybe, consider getting into real estate, after all, ain't that where all the money is nowadays? Then once I'm "successful" I can go ahead and find me a good looking wife, a nice car, and a fancy house in Bixby Knolls. Maybe a family like the one from Beverly Hills 90210, with a bunch of spoiled brats, bitching about not being able to find their hair gel, while some kid in Pakistan makes soccer balls for 2 cents a day. Well fuck. Where did I go wrong? Why am I here, driving to a side job on a Saturday morning, while I could be watching cartoons? Why am I eating this shitty burrito, stressing over my overdue rent, my empty gas tank, and some doll who kicked me to the curve for not having a "successful" job? Why? WHY!?!?

Just then that gut wrenching pain that has kept me company on those dark nights, when my drunken sanity was questionable, reached out and punched me. That pain, that fire, that passion, that drug that has stripped me of the comfort of a warm room, a beautiful woman, 3 meals a day, and a decent nights sleep. This addiction I cant, and refuse, to live with out, gnaws and claws at my insides and reminds me why I haven't conformed to their way of living. Is it worth it? Every god damn minute. My eyes become focused back on the road of this damned forsaken filthy city that has never failed to leave me. I take a deep breath and fill my lungs with her sweet smog and stench. I man up to the road ahead, raise my head up high, and drop that 3rd gear into 2nd as I strut that 4 banger piece of shit jeep with pride. I look in the mirror and say the same words I told that bastard who's ass I beat outside of Ferns, for trying to tell me who I was, "I know who I am and I know where I'm from, and most importantly I know where I'm going, so get the fuck out of my way."
-Red Rooster 2007

"Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal." -Albert Camus