[dropcap size=big]E[/dropcap]rick Galindo says he experiences time differently. He can think of when he was seven years old and instantly is teleported back to that time. He attributes it to a perceptual thing, “I think my brain is fucked up,” he tells me on our way to some of the best taquerías in our part of town. The foo swears he’s Kurt Vonnegut or Dr. Manhattan. But strangely enough, I believe him.
Galindo is the first person I ever spoke to when I started writing for L.A. TACO back in 2018. He was the managing editor at the time, and I pitched a guide to the part of L.A. I was from Southeast LA or SELA, where we’re both from. Galindo thought focusing on one place might be easier, so I ended up writing about Mexican wings. He gave me a shot when I needed it and set me on a new career path.
When I asked him why he accepted the pitch, he claimed that it had nothing to do with my SELA background. Maybe I’m a romantic, but I like to think he accepted it because he saw something in me that’s undeniable about the people from SELA—a sense of pride for a part of Los Angeles that often gets erased from the conversation. He later admitted it might have had something to do with it, subconsciously.
Since then, Galindo and I became close friends. I’d even considered him my mentor. He listened to and answered my incessant questions about pitching and writing. I felt a strong sense of camaraderie, knowing that the person I was working with came from the communities I grew up in. And I take pride in knowing someone who is on a path to accomplish greatness.