TheLegendsLeague

Honor & Honesty / Guidance Gone
by Bryan Espiritu.

(and then this happened…)

Welcome To The Legends League

I Can’t Find It In Me
by Bryan Espiritu.

Walk This Way
A (True) Story written and recited by Bryan Espiritu.

More to come.

Don’t Be My Saviour by Bryan Espiritu
An early piece on TheLegendsLeague’s first webpage.

(Repeat may be very necessary.)

I was introduced to Jose Gonzalez by my good friend, Gavin Sheppard - my brother, whom I miss very, very much. This song has since been the conversation piece and background for talks at work with my boss, friend, and mentor, Ben Shirinian, and the motivation to go see Jose perform live with my old friend, David Guenette. (We missed the show, Dave. But we’ll enjoy the view from the crowd sometime in the near future). It is a song that makes me think about old friendships that I wish to revisit, a new brotherhood with my boy, William Nguyen, and the growth that has come from my relationship with my lady, and love, Stacey. It’s the song that makes me feel the warmth of sharing laughter with my daughter, Saren-Sol, seeing her grow, and learn, and become the greatest teacher I’ve had. It plays the music that crushes my heart when thinking about Kevin, about crying at his funeral while Andrew held me tight, and sobbed out, “why”, while we watched 4 caskets pass at Josip’s funeral - his mother, his sister, his father’s funeral, all on that summer afternoon. It is the music of us, at 14 and 15 years old, questioning this world, and again, wondering why our fathers were as they were.. and not like theirs. It speaks to my love for my sister, Zaki Ibrahim - how she has always spoken to me directly, with nods, and stares, on the front porch and rooftop, staring into the ‘why-the-fucks’ of our frustrations and coming out with only this - ‘I need you to remember to love yourself as much as I love you. Okay?’. yes. (say yes). It’s what makes me remember waking up to you, tubes and machines hooking me up to something alive, and you saying - ‘I thought I was never going to see you again. Not like this’. And you won’t. I promise. It’s what makes me saying “I’m glad I don’t have to lie about the good words I put towards him as a man, and I won’t have to lie about missing him” hurt a little more inside. Because I know that is what we all meant. Not only on that afternoon in April, but everyday he was with us. It’s what makes me understand what having Jay around means. And what makes me realize that I may never know Junior again. It is me in your father’s bathroom, on the floor in tears, because Loyan was not just everyone else. It’s me crumbling to the floor when I saw you on the news. When I got the phone call from Jay and said, “….no…..not Mikey“. And when we finally spoke on the phone. I only needed to know that you were okay. It’s what makes me feel young knowing that he’s free, and we grew up side by side.. until I went away at 12, and finally met him. Thank you, Aaron. It’s me saying, “I am sorry”. For the corkscrew in the elevator, the kick in the face in the parking lot, and choking him at the bar. I am sorry. For the crushed ribs, and strangling her on the freeway. For robbing your father because I needed money for alcohol. For stealing his jewellery to run to the pawn shop. And for watching it all turn to dust. I am sorry. It’s what makes me remember the feeling of Chris‘ couch, us sitting, reading poetry that we both knew would someday be published and celebrated by the world. His mother asked us for a sip. And we shared. It’s me walking in the center of the road, tears in my eyes and 2 pints in my hands, and speaking with an officer who was concerned more about how I felt than taking me to jail. It’s not wanting to be home, in thousand dollar outfits, slumped behind fences in back alleys trying to find sleep. It is the music that speaks to the father I now have, who not only raised me with a firm hand, but has learned when change is important, and that truth is what hurts the most - and heals the best. It is the fact that I don’t know what to say of my mother. It helps me remember having a day pass, and you hugging me, crying, and telling me you missed me when they took me back. I love you too. It is us together in the basement. And me walking 5 hours to your house at 11 years old, when you moved. It brings me to every place I need to be when I am looking for inspiration, to every moment that meant anything of influence in my life. And it carries me through every emotion I need it to. But most importantly, it brings me back to you. It is what helps me say, I am sorry, but this is over. Because it doesn’t feel right. It is what helped me say, this needs to begin.. because I am tired of feeling wrong.

When I think of everything that has happened, I am never at a loss to create. I am never at a void or sensation of emptiness. My experiences, my life - it is full. It is the motivation for why TheLegendsLeague is important to me. It is the people, the experiences, the lessons that I have learned, all wrapped into everything I write, draw, design, and present to you.. in hopes that you may be able to learn, relate, but most importantly, share with others. And for this, I am grateful. And I thank you.

Love&Respect as usual,
bryan.

if your name is not mentioned and you feel disrespected, it probably means one of two things - you need to hear it to know that I care, or it should not have been mentioned in the first place. where do you stand?

DO NOT READ THIS POST IF YOU ARE SKEPTICAL OF THE MEANING OF MY POST ENTITLED: SHOOT THE SMILING KID. IT MAY BE VERY DISTURBING FOR MOST. AND I APOLOGIZE IF YOUR VIEWS ABOUT ME CHANGE AFTER READING THIS. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THAT YOUR READ THE ORIGINAL HERE BEFORE MOVING ON. IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE THEN CONTINUE….

Love&Respect.
be.
(more…)

Shoot The Smile Series #2 - Angelina.
Illustrated by Bryan Espiritu

Just finished this one.

Shoot The Smiling Kid
A reoccuring episode written and illustrated by Bryan Espiritu.

I’ll shoot the smiling kid.
Leave him to me.

I’ll gurgle his laughter,
Turn it off key.
And lock and load my weight off his shoulders -
Blast his bashful ways to get older.

Leave him to me,
I’ve got bullets to spare.

Let me provoke the joke out his throat,
Stage his new stage nerves
And force him to choke,
Shackle the chuckle and sticky his coat.

Bullshitty you’ve seen what burgundy bleeding can do.
You’re kidding, not stinging.
You’re kiddy shampoo.
I’m actual facts.
“Life Of” National Lampoon.
You’re something to laugh at,
Hardy har har.

I’ll sever his initials and plus from his heart,
Divvy his twinkling visual spark,
And scalp him.
I’ll ask him to share his grey smarts.
His father will need a new suit.

…
His mother will wet the lapel.
And he will never wear it again.
Like,
“Oh, where has it gone, your sweet grin?”

motherfucker.
…

And the hell will break
to the smell of grapes,
crushed in the mash of a months mistakes.

They’ll mourn like it was just before noon,
Until their empty is filled by a moon.

And their world no longer filled by a son,
Whose ignorance was excused as his fun.

I’ll make due making use of this gun.
Not a siren will tell me to run.

And no siren will tell me to run.

Welcome To The Legends League
if i told you the truth, would you believe in it?

I Can’t Work Tonight
by Bryan Espiritu.
(I wrote this this morning while on my way home from LiveStock. It is a true recollection of one of my reoccuring bouts with schizophrenia while I was in high school. Thanks for reading.)

——————————–

Lori had left me and by the time I could make it down the gank, beiged hallway and down the stairs I had already soaked my chin hairs sparse with tears. Careful not to slip, I walked down the twenty-odd steps with grease between the treads of my work boots and pushed through the double emergency doors with the panes of plastic blinds covering them. Once they shut behind me there was no re-entering.

On my hands was blood, from tips to wrists and the pain of my chest was stringing my teeth. I couldn’t bare to look at them any longer. I walked quickly toward the tram stop, hoping one would be available for me to just hop onto and hide into, but there were none. Not a one. Not a soul could know how it felt that afternoon to see two children and a grown man devilishly demonize the bus towards the mall. And that poor woman with her ankles leaking blood from how tightly the straps had been wired around her lower leg - …

I am not dreaming, if dreams are built of clouds and lightly things. This is not a nightly scare or ‘mare’ since the lights from sunshine brings me glows. I have fell much further below. But today is the hello to my sanity’s goodbye, and I am sorry, I cannot work my shift tonight.

I rushed through the back greens and through the track to get to the hole in the fence on my way to work. I must have fucked 2 or 3 times that morning knowing how feisty I was those days. Mostly men of my age at that point would be gleaming to have had these sprees. Not me. Not under these circumstances or with these pills. Then, almost towards the pole that I would circle to get to the bus shelter, I looked and there my hands were covered red. My breathing shortened and my vision lengthened then closed like in old horror films. My hearing was dulled, my beating chest was heaving for breath. My hands were full. And the stench had me reeling. I boarded the bus and the demons came.

And so my eyes have never been the same.

——————————–

Welcome To TheLegendsLeague

One of the most open conversations I’ve had in a very long time happened last night with my homegirl cris. This is the dialogue exactly as it happened.

be:
I wish my parents had homes I could move into man.
I wish.

cris:
??

be:
So I could persue my shit properly.
I can’t afford my dreams and my rent and my bills.

cris:
I feel you.

be:
My mom lives with my cousins and their fam and my pops lives in someone’s basement.

cris:
I don’t know what to say, that just crushed me.

be:
??
Why

cris:
I believe you’ll never stop.

be:
I probably won’t.

cris:
I know
I don’t want you to either.

be:
I’m not sure what to do with this writing thing though.
I’m really scared…
about dying now that I don’t want to be dead.

When you’re suicidal you’re pretty fearless.
Because the end of your life would actually be quite fulfilling.
Now that I feel more recognition for my life I’m worried that I’ll die before I can do what needs to be done.

Don’t get me wrong, because this isn’t the romanticized version of thinking I’ll die young like all the greats. It’s the fear that time is actually against me.

I design clothing to fulfill a few aspects of my creative vision - as a designer and as someone who enjoys some of the fair vanities that come with making some money. But I also do it because I know it will provide me with money. Money to continue to write, and at some point, live without the burden of someone else’s clock.

cris:
You really have that fear? Do you still have those thoughts?
There is a reason you’re still here.
Many I’m sure of it.

be:
When the time comes that designing has paid me enough that I can live to write - I’m finished.
And I’ll feel my purpose has been served.

cris:
Look how far you’ve come with LL and Ideall as a whole.
Your determination and focus.
So many people feel you.

be:
But because there are steps to take - so many of them - before this all happens, I’m worried that I’ll pass before I can do what I’ve always dreamt of doing. And that’s writing this book.

cris:
I have no doubt in my mind that people will react the same to your writing.

Well why do you feel like that? Is it because you were suicidal? Or because you still are?
What is it in you that makes you feel that way?

be:
I’ve always felt like this.
I never thought I’d live passed my early 20’s.

cris:
I don’t think you’re done.
No where near done.

be:
I’m definitely not done. I’ll know when I am.
And it has everything to do with this book.

But I’m not suggesting that I’m suicidal and thinking of taking my own life.
I’m sure my life will just take itself away unannounced.

We’ll just have to see I guess.
…

thanks cris.