Quantum Bacchanalia: Abundance Year Episode 1980 (audio: noxsoma.substack.com)

Full Metal Ox Day 1915
Thursday 28, May 2026
Abundance Year Episode 1980
Noxsoma Life Camp:
Quantum Bacchanalia
Super Sonics
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Ethnic Ambiguity in America, & Elsewhere.
Maybe it was the colorful pants, or the bandanna. Dude asks, “Are you Puerto Rican?’
“No,” I say. I’m not offended. As soon as dude showed up to the playground on his scooter, I had an idea about him. He looked kind of like a stereotype.
“Are you from New York?”
“Close enough,” I say. I’m thinking this guy is from The Apple. But no accent. I tell him I’m from the 6th Borough. He doesn’t get it. So I fess up. “Philly.” I ask if he’s from New York. He says he was born there. He thinks it’s the Bronx. His family left because someone shot at his father’s car.
So they loaded up the truck, and they moved to Mia-meee.
Dude and I had a philosophical fitness chat, with a little bit of nostalgia thrown in. He’s forty. Played basketball near daily when he was 18. 18 was probably the last year he played basketball that much. Says he used to be skinny. I’m giving him tips on how he could get onto condition, but, “18 is gone for good, buddy.” He’s telling me why he can’t do it. This is why I am not a working trainer anymore. I don’t have time for this. “You’ll figure it out,” I tell him.
He might figure it out. But he won’t do anything about it. We both know it.
We talked about the places he lived. How friendly or cold humans were in different places. He’s a Florida guy born in New York, but has no connection to the place other than being born there.
What was cosmic about the conversation, was the difference between Puerto Ricans and Cubans. No need for details. It’s just that I noted that Cubans were descended from Spanish nobility and were land-owners. Especially those who came over after the Revolution. He told me that he was just recently researching that same topic.
Figure the odds. This is everyday magic. It’s not just about finding money. I don’t think I will see Dude again. But one never knows. I think I was right about him though. His lineage.
It was in the 1990s when I first heard the term, “ethnically ambiguous.” Never had two words been joined together that describe this vessel so well, that had not be connected by your humble wordsmith. I thought for sure it would catch on. As far as I know, it’s never been celebrated by any dictionary as “word of the year.”
Humans really show you who the are when you’re ethnically ambiguous. When they can’t put you in the ethno-racial box. They treat, or relate to you as they see you. I have often mentioned, that without a thought humans approach me speaking Spanish. I can’t blame them, and don’t. At least half the population down here speaks Spanish. I look like I speak Spanish, or should speak it. Then they are, “where you from?” De donde eres?
“Norte. Y usted?”
Cuba. Venezuela. Colombia. Maybe Guatemala. There’s a neighbor from Guatemala and one from Ecuador. We communicate in English.
In a place like Philly or New York, humans don’t even ask. They assume. They will assume based on their own biases. Maybe how you speak. How you dress. Who you hang with. Whether or not you can dance.
It’s amazing what’s revealed.
A Japanese bartender, female, dumped all of her “White-man” hate on me one night from across the bar. I let her vent. Then my brother, (American Kenyan, that’s an epic tale waiting to be told), tells her I’m not White. I didn’t know it because I’d stepped away. Talk about losing face. I noticed the change in temperature.
Very revealing.
There are dozens of stories like that.
One of my favorites, because this guy became one of those angel mentors. Sam was a retired Army Top Sergeant working in the motor pool at my first duty station. Sam might have been 50-ish. Generously melinated. From Alabama. Sam was Morgan Freeman when Morgan Freeman was still doing soap operas. Sam chained-smoked Camels, or some similar brand without filters. He was a master mechanic. Just had a feel for every component under the hood.
One day he says to me, with only a hint of curiosity, “You speak Spanish, mang?”
We were cool ever since. It’s like Sam had to do recon on the new guy. We were both Pisces. And it meant something to both of us. It was cool. It wasn’t a “take you under his wing thing.” It was like a mentor thing.
Of course, it’s the White people who are the most awkward. Men and women. There are no standards. It’s really more evidence that we live in a simulation. Or, if you prefer, it’s more evidence that our perceptions power our biases, which control our behavior. Sometimes it’s not even about race or ethnicity. It could be about insecurity.
There was this guy in Manhattan. I was with my buddies and this kid, White guy mentioned something, nigh inaudible about wanting to fight. We were playing pool. Dude was at another table, with his crew and his girl. While I was waiting for my opportunity to run the table, I casually did some subtle staff, (martial arts), exercises with my pool stick. (Don’t get the wrong idea. I wear no belts.) But homey got the message. It was a Zen moment, well before I was into Zen.
But back to the point. It’s not just ethnic ambiguity and alcohol that seems to give humans license to, “show-dey-ass.” But any kind of ambiguity, misconception, or even delusion. How dare you not fit in my neat little box, in my neat little world. How dare you make me think.
One last story. (Just came to me.) I’m trying to find my way to the lobby in a hotel in Madrid. An American woman says to me, in English, “do you speak English?” I say, “of course.” Completely forgetting where I was, for a split second.
You boy isn’t above split-second idiocy. But now that I am a little more aware of these tendencies and potentialities, I don’t rush to be stupid.
You know by now that these essays usually have nothing to do with the theme of the show. Just some memoirs, or the occasional “stuff I notice.”

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