Friday, September 2, 2011
--LAST NIGHT WHILE I WAS SLEEPWALKING I’M PRETTY SURE I RAN INTO YOU SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FREEZER AND THE PANTRY
…I have five stories and two poems up at Negative Suck. They’re also here under words in print and the story tabbed “History” under “Words in Print.” I was fortunate to be their featured writer for the month.
I also read some poetry and was interviewed by Annmarie Lochart for Vox Poetica. If you want a listen, it’s here tabbed as “Bridge” under “Words in Print.”
…So I saw Cheap Trick on Wednesday night.
They were Cheap Trick all right.
They sounded like they sounded all those years ago. It got a little monotonous after a while. After a while I wanted to leave.
After a while I did.
…Last night I saw One Republic. Their gig was short and sweet.
The lead singer was fun and hospitable. He’s also insanely talented. Every breath that came out of his mouth was pure pop gold.
I liked them so much I ordered their album today.
…Today I read stories for my editing gig at Metazen. I read a lot of stories and a lot of poems.
Most of them were not very good. Some that were better than others were still pretty average. A few I just did not get. Maybe I’m not smart enough. Perhaps I should resign and let a brighter reader read what might be written between the lines that I might be missing.
…Tonight I’m going to a high school football game. In a small town, games are a big deal and it’s got a nostalgic flavor. Going to them always reminds me of “Friday Night Lights” the movie, not the tv show because I’ve only seen the film. It’s quite good and I recommend it to you.
…Tomorrow a gaggle of people are coming over for a paella party. A special chef and his cooking troupe are coming over to whip up the fixings.
…Sunday is Bumbershoot, a yearly music festival in Seattle akin to Lollapalooza with literally hundreds of bands. We will be seeing McLemore and Wuz Kalifa and some rock groups.
…Tuesday is Fleet Foxes and The Walkmen.
…I have become a social animal. I have turned rabidly social. What’s wrong with me? Where’s the shy, introverted nine year old? Oh, I know where he is. He’s here:
THERE IS A PLACE
…There’s a place I go where no one can find me, not even God.
In the place, this field, forest, there are acres and acres of ancient evergreens and craggy gray boulders that resemble old people’s skin or tortillas.
Every now and then there’s a patch of yellow buttercups of wild blue bells. Sometimes they’ll have a bit of nectar in them that tastes (I’m hoping anyway) like my first kiss which I haven’t had yet.
I go to this place because I am sometimes embarrassed about my family, or just my parents, or else just myself. I’m embarrassed about myself because I am too shy to make friends and I know I should have friends, probably a dozen already, because every nine year old has too many friends, I mean come on.
I like to my secret place, to my special place, to the top of a small hill that is flat in the center with rocks coming up on all sides like shoulder pads. When I look left or right, east or west, I can’t see a single soul. If I shout, my breath flies away unsteady and balloon-slow.
When it’s windy, my favorite thing to do is to lie down on a bed of pine needles and watch the tree limbs sway above me. I guess it’s sort of like being in a crib again, watching the spinner thing hanging above with felt toys, although I’m not sure if I had one of those. I’m thinking I didn’t.
This place, my secret home-away-from-home, it feels like a fortress. My brothers have a tree fort behind out trailer that I could visit, but I don’t. No, this is my place. I feel safe here and it’s okay to be alone and quiet, to think and wonder, to be afraid or confident, anything at all really.
Sometimes I imagine I’m finding bands of savage Indians that want to claim the land as their own. I beat them back with a stick I find, or with my bare fists and shoes. In my imagination I’m like The Hulk, only white instead of green, skinny instead of muscled.
It’s really something--what a person’s imagination can come up with.
It’s something else--being nine.
Then when you factor in being nine and being me, well, you’d want to have a super-secret place to go to.
I guarantee it.