The odds of winning the lottery are like 80,431,176 to 1. People would die to win it, have millions of dollars suddenly encased within their bank account number. It's a lot of people's key to happiness...they say "Man, if I could only win the lottery, I'd be SO happy, I'd spend the rest of my life traveling, doing amazing things, just enjoying life instead of toiling through it." I'm not gonna lie, I play the lottery all the time. I'd love to hit it big, win that jackpot. But on the train on the way home today, an epiphany - I've already won it.
I won the lottery on 3/19/69.
3/19/69, for my Dad:
He woke up and went to work at Chrysler, as he would do every other weekday for the next 35 years. He stopped at the gas station to get gas on the way in. He thought about doing it on the way home, but had a few extra minutes because he woke up early. He woke up early because the next door neighbor started yelling at his wife about who knows what.
His work day was pretty unspectacular, as they would be for the next 35 years. He ate a smallish lunch, wasn't feeling too hungry. He wasn't feeling too hungry because he grabbed a danish at the gas station - he normally skips breakfast. He said goodbye to his co-worker Phil, changed his clothes and hopped in the car around 3:40pm.
On the way home, due to his smallish lunch around noon, he felt a small hunger pang. Out of his subconscious came an inkling for a White Castle hamburger. He had seen a commercial earlier in the week, and the advertisement finally did it's job, and he suddenly craved the wave. He pulled into the restaurant, decided to go inside instead of the drive-thru. No real reason, just one of those things. He got in line. Two persons in front of him was a really attractive 26 year old Beatles fan from Duluth. She had moved to Michigan because of a job offer she couldn't refuse. She got the job offer because the person her boss was going to give it to passed away in a drunk driving accident. They were drunk because they were celebrating the fact that they had heard a rumor that they were going to be getting a big promotion, which included a nice transfer out of Duluth.
My Dad stared at this girl for about 8 seconds, long enough for his mind to turn the optical vision into a hormonal rush. The rush, suddenly stored within him, turned to arousal, blood flow, heat. He didn't even really realize it, but all of a sudden, it was there.
He ate the burgers on the way home. His body, still covert to him, was percolating into some serious sex drive. He swallowed the sliders, sipped on a Coke and drove up the driveway to our house. He parked the car and walked into the house. He looked at my Mom, and rather unaware of why, instantly thought about having sex with her. He said "Hey, are the kids home from school yet?", and winked at her seductively.
3/19/69, for my Mom:
She woke up when my Dad did and kissed him goodbye, then fell back asleep for about a half hour. She got up and went into my two older brother's room, woke them up and told them to get ready for school. They, for once, didn't complain and ask for the usual five more minutes of sleep. They did this because today at school was basketball in gym class, and they LOVED that day. Unknown to my Mom, this set into motion a serious mood of relaxation for the day. Just this little non-thing was all it took for her day to improve by tenfold, and the end result was a very happy, cheerful Mom.
After my brothers left, she made herself some coffee and sat down to watch her morning shows. At around 10:30am, her friend Rebecca called and asked if she was doing anything. She said no, and Rebecca came over. Rebecca made it to our house because while driving over there, she had missed a turn while trying to put out a cigarette in the ashtray. If she had made the correct turn, she would have hit a pothole and her tire would have been ruined. She would've gone to the auto shop to get it fixed and would've canceled with my Mom. But since she missed the pothole, she made it to our house. They had lunch together. They chatted. They laughed. They had a really great afternoon. My Mom's happy mood increased even more.
My Mom then listened to her new Rolling Stones record while making a roast for dinner. She did this because her friend Anne, who was never wrong about these things, recommended it to her. The album, not the roast. Mom was particularly impressed by a song called "Street Fighting Man". Without really knowing it was happening, the song stirred up some pretty serious feelings in her. You know the kind I'm talking about. Quite covert to her, without even really knowing it, she was getting pretty damn horny. And oh, by the way, she prepared a salad for dinner as well.
She had just put the roast in the oven and sat down on the couch when my Dad came in and, while winking, said "Hey, are the kids home from school yet?"
3/19/69, for me:
My future Dad and Mom had sex. My Dad released about 100 million sperm cells. Only one of those, if it connected with Mom's egg, would be me. Any other of the MILLIONS!!! of sperm connects, and I'm not me! My life never happened! You're not reading this! The only EXACT way that I came about was that one sperm fertilizing that one egg. If my Dad had been in the mood and Mom had not, and the attractive Duluthian fervor ended up with my Dad going at it solo that night, I wouldn't have happened. I would've ended up down a sink drain. But alas, all events lined up, the ones mentioned above being just an insanely small sampling, and the one sperm connected out of those millions, and on 3/19/69, I was conceived. That, my friends, is what I call hitting the jackpot!
So I've won the lottery. I've already beaten the most mind boggling of odds. We all have. So I think I will spend some time traveling, to Brazil next maybe, or even just to a local bar to hang with my friends. I will do amazing things, even if only small things here and there that make someone feel/live/think/aspire/laugh. And I will enjoy life, because the way I see it, I won that lottery back in '69, and that's a wild, crazy, mind-blowing gift, and that kind of gift deserves respect, awe, honor, activity and mayhem.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Afternoon Beers
I walked in the door and Pops is waiting with that beer gut and that beer smile. He likes to toss a couple back after work, I gots no problem with that. He's the type of guy that could do that, and it wasn't in the "alcoholic Dad drinking in the middle of the day" kinda way. He just liked a couple of afternoon beers, and he never let it create disaster. I walked over to him and stuck my belly out as far as I could. He tapped it gently, and his finger pokes felt like raindrops.
"Gosh, kiddo, you're looking more and more like me every day."
Man, he was the coolest. Never a bad word, never a dark cloud, never turned the lights of hope off. He was Steady Eddie, calm storm in the South Seas. He made my personality want to exhibit itself. He took me inside myself for exploration. I adored this man, this legend, this sunshine.
I exhaled.
"Listen, next Sunday you're gonna have to drive me and Rick to..."
I reached into my pocket and thrust the golden tickets in his face.
"...the Red Wings game!!!"
He grabbed the tickets and looked at them.
"Nice, kiddo. And they're playing the Avs, great game."
I did a somersault. A real one, not the interior kind.
Pops looked down and laughed. He had the world's greatest laugh. I always imagined there was a great place where laughs went once they fell out of our earshot. I imagined they flew somewhere high above and gathered at some sacred ground. This place has so many laughs that they had to expire the old ones after a while to make room for the new ones. They had a whole system set up, categories upon categories of laughs. "Robust, over here. Sly, over there. Innocent, there. Annoying, way back there. No, a little further. More still. A few more feet. There you go." Pops' laugh would stay in this laugh mecca longer than most, purely based on the integrity of it, the honesty of it, the density of its' mass. Yeah, Pops had the greatest laugh.
He turned and walked into the kitchen. I rested down on my back and looked up at the ceiling. I'm not sure why I loved lying on the floor so much. I think it's because I like doing things mostly undone.
My mind wandered to the glance Jenny and I shared earlier in Math class. The "Jenny Glance", as we shall now call it. It's amazing how something so simple can make my insides rearrange. Does she realize her power? I have a feeling she doesn't. What does she do when she gets home? What is she doing right now? Does she masturbate? I heard that most girls don't. That's weird. I mean, I can't stop. I know it's different for girls, but how? Physically, what's the difference? I've heard that it's more about emotion for them. Hell, I'm as emotional as they get. I feel things so deeply sometimes that the pressure splits my head. Too many pounds per square inch, or whatever it is that happens when you dive too many miles below the surface, like in "The Abyss". But what is she thinking right now? I know we're set up for the movies Friday, but did that glance spark a minute beginning of something larger in her head? Is there all of a sudden a picture of me in her head, maybe way at the back? So far back that she hasn't even computed it yet? Will it, I, start to make my way to the front of her head, the part of the brain that recognizes this particular thought needs to be immediately re-directed to the heart?
Pops rolls back in, laughs at nothing in particular, new beer in hand, and kicks me in the feet.
"What are you thinking about, Rodan?"
I think for a second that I might tell him, but I just say "nada mucho" and sit next to him on the couch. He puts his arm around me and grabs the remote, turns on the telly.
"What time is the game on?", he wonders aloud.
"7pm. Duh."
"Gosh, kiddo, you're looking more and more like me every day."
Man, he was the coolest. Never a bad word, never a dark cloud, never turned the lights of hope off. He was Steady Eddie, calm storm in the South Seas. He made my personality want to exhibit itself. He took me inside myself for exploration. I adored this man, this legend, this sunshine.
I exhaled.
"Listen, next Sunday you're gonna have to drive me and Rick to..."
I reached into my pocket and thrust the golden tickets in his face.
"...the Red Wings game!!!"
He grabbed the tickets and looked at them.
"Nice, kiddo. And they're playing the Avs, great game."
I did a somersault. A real one, not the interior kind.
Pops looked down and laughed. He had the world's greatest laugh. I always imagined there was a great place where laughs went once they fell out of our earshot. I imagined they flew somewhere high above and gathered at some sacred ground. This place has so many laughs that they had to expire the old ones after a while to make room for the new ones. They had a whole system set up, categories upon categories of laughs. "Robust, over here. Sly, over there. Innocent, there. Annoying, way back there. No, a little further. More still. A few more feet. There you go." Pops' laugh would stay in this laugh mecca longer than most, purely based on the integrity of it, the honesty of it, the density of its' mass. Yeah, Pops had the greatest laugh.
He turned and walked into the kitchen. I rested down on my back and looked up at the ceiling. I'm not sure why I loved lying on the floor so much. I think it's because I like doing things mostly undone.
My mind wandered to the glance Jenny and I shared earlier in Math class. The "Jenny Glance", as we shall now call it. It's amazing how something so simple can make my insides rearrange. Does she realize her power? I have a feeling she doesn't. What does she do when she gets home? What is she doing right now? Does she masturbate? I heard that most girls don't. That's weird. I mean, I can't stop. I know it's different for girls, but how? Physically, what's the difference? I've heard that it's more about emotion for them. Hell, I'm as emotional as they get. I feel things so deeply sometimes that the pressure splits my head. Too many pounds per square inch, or whatever it is that happens when you dive too many miles below the surface, like in "The Abyss". But what is she thinking right now? I know we're set up for the movies Friday, but did that glance spark a minute beginning of something larger in her head? Is there all of a sudden a picture of me in her head, maybe way at the back? So far back that she hasn't even computed it yet? Will it, I, start to make my way to the front of her head, the part of the brain that recognizes this particular thought needs to be immediately re-directed to the heart?
Pops rolls back in, laughs at nothing in particular, new beer in hand, and kicks me in the feet.
"What are you thinking about, Rodan?"
I think for a second that I might tell him, but I just say "nada mucho" and sit next to him on the couch. He puts his arm around me and grabs the remote, turns on the telly.
"What time is the game on?", he wonders aloud.
"7pm. Duh."
Thursday, February 25, 2010
A State
At the peak of a view, pinnacle seat, what will you see? Will it be the ANSWER, will it be final peace? Maybe. But then again, maybe it will be a black painted window, a view clouded over like perplexion. Maybe a gift will be shown, maybe a clearing of gifts, wrapped from your birth, waiting to be unveiled. Maybe country music will whistle in a quiet slumber, basted with a glaze of glory, snoozing on hammocks of slumber.
She IS the queen, as if royalty bowed to her. She is a state, like Arizona or Oklahoma - she has a democracy and a verdict. She is ultimate and omniscient. She'll not let you suffer, she'll not be abstract. She'll give all answers in Van Morrison-esque song, 70's and filled with simplicity. I'll give up 100 Red Wings games if it means one day with her. I'll give up insecurity, jealousy and obsession, if I can have one kiss, one moment of her eyes finding me. Will she understand my intention?
I'd split my life for her, half learning and half worship - let me learn her ways, then bow. A program easy to surrender to. Where is she?
She IS the queen, as if royalty bowed to her. She is a state, like Arizona or Oklahoma - she has a democracy and a verdict. She is ultimate and omniscient. She'll not let you suffer, she'll not be abstract. She'll give all answers in Van Morrison-esque song, 70's and filled with simplicity. I'll give up 100 Red Wings games if it means one day with her. I'll give up insecurity, jealousy and obsession, if I can have one kiss, one moment of her eyes finding me. Will she understand my intention?
I'd split my life for her, half learning and half worship - let me learn her ways, then bow. A program easy to surrender to. Where is she?
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Growing Up A Witness
jehovah was the man for me for quite some time. nine years to be exact, from eleven to twenty. i walked every step of my youth based on what that cat thought was best for me. let's see, just to name a few things that were consequentially his “fault”:
-i didn't kiss a girl until i was twenty years old. (when i did spell check after i got done writing this i noticed i had put "twenty tears old" there...interesting). as a JW (jehovah’s witness), we weren't allowed to date until we were old enough to marry, and it must be within the religion. i know that age parameter can vary to great degrees, but let's see, as a JW i'd say that was generally around twenty-one years old. the reason for that i believe is that when one gives up the normal pursuits of a teen to run after god, by the time you're getting out of the teen years you're damn ready to start catching up with those things. so the JW's hit twenty or so and immediately fast track towards physical contact, since now they finally can. so i spent the formative years shoving the bible down girls’ throats, when really i should’ve been shoving my tongue. i was really, really into it, as all JW’s when they learn the religion believe themselves to have learned a secret truth. they actually call it “the truth”. i believed i was going to survive armageddon, god’s war against the wicked, due to unleash, according to prophecies in daniel and revelations, imminently. so…to get back to the late smooch…i was twenty. i had never kissed a girl. i had turned down more dates then i cared to remember, and had suffocated my desires as a consequence. but around eighteen or so along came an inkling within me to leave the religion. it took a couple years to take full root, but at twenty i decided it was time to go. it must have been about thirty seconds after that decision was finalized, my mind turned to sex. since this decision was made and i would be leaving soon anyway, i might as well get laid. so i proceeded to hook up with this girl i worked with. we did it in the back of a van. at twenty, i got my first kiss, blow job and sex, all in the same night.
-i lost my family because of the big guy too. after the sex incident, the elders (older men that overlooked the congregation) found out i had sex because my best friend in the religion andy told them. he felt obligated, as the bible says if you know of wrongdoing, but do not report it, you’re as guilty as the culprit. so andy tattled. his father, an elder, and another elder, walked up to me while i was at work at blockbuster video, jumped the line, and asked me in front of about seven unsuspecting onlookers if i had had sex. my heart stopped, literally. i had to tell them yes. a week later i was disfellowshipped, which in catholic terms would be excommunicated. what does this mean? it means I was kicked out of the religion and my parents were not allowed to speak with me anymore. if i continued to go to the kingdom hall (the JW place of worship), all the people there could not speak to me. i was allowed to sit there and listen, but no one could acknowledge me. fun times.
-i didn’t celebrate any holidays. as a sixteen, seventeen year old, no biggie. it pretty much sucked as an eleven, twelve year old. i mean, i had just spent ten years of bliss on december 25th, and all of a sudden it was yanked away. now i’m eleven and december 25th was just another day. the weeks leading up to that day at school now consisted of me constantly having to explain to my friends why i couldn’t partake in the festivities any more. try explaining biblical beliefs to your friends at that age. try telling them you can’t celebrate christmas or your birthday any more because certain passages in matthew, mark, luke and john forbid it. more fun times.
-the masturbation guilt. oh man, the masturbation guilt. wow. where to start? well, masturbation isn’t specifically forbidden in the bible by word. but the JW’s, as with many things, took some liberties with biblical phrasings and outlawed this great act. i believe it fell under “carnal desires”. now listen, i was fourteen, my body was bursting with a zillion new curiosities, and they all seemed to want to manifest themselves out of my penis. under normal circumstances, this is great. go to town. explore the seven seas, the moon, the virgin islands, whatever the fuck you need to do. do it ten times a day. enjoy yourself! but! as a JW…fuggitabottitt! i find it difficult to describe what it was like to be fourteen years old and to want to whack the doodle twenty four/seven, and to not be able to! it’s fucking insane. this is like asking a rocket, once launched, to not fly. a boat, once birthed, to not sail. a cookie, once battered, to not bake. i would be flipping through the sears catalogue, checking out the ladies lingerie, and what’s the next NORMAL HUMAN MALE INSTINCT? you know. we all know. but then the big guy would pop into my head. sex and god in the same brain process is so unnormal, so wrong, such a buzzkill. the ultimate confusion. the anti-peanut butter & jelly. all i wanted to do was release and all he wanted me to do was retard. ugh, what a process that was to calm the desire, breathe deeply, and back that shit up. put ‘er back in the garage. i could only do that so many times and the NORMAL HUMAN MALE INSTINCT would win out. sometimes i would go a few days, sometimes, weeks. if i made it to three weeks without doing it, it was pretty much a miracle. every time i did it, the guilt was through the roof. i felt soooooooo bad. i felt like i was letting god down. feeling like you’re letting god down is pretty heavy for anyone, but it’s pretty hardcore for a teenager. almost every time, right after i did it, i would pray. that visual just blows my mind when i think about it today. i picture myself, pants around my ankles, dick deflating from exhaustion, and my hands clasped in prayer position. me, asking him for forgiveness, in the glow of release, but with a ten ton weight of guilt weighing me down. it’s enough to fuck anyone up for a while, i think. all i know is, if i ever have the blessing of raising a child, i’m gonna set the wee one up. victoria’s secret catalogues, ken dolls, lotions, masks, dvd’s...whatever kid needs, kid’s got it.
people worship in a church, beg god for forgiveness. sin again, ask again. it makes no sense to me. my church is my world, and the hope that i can be as good as i can, be as honest as i can, be as beautiful as i can, and hope that those around me protect that idealism. i’m not naïve, and i know the world won’t necessarily abide, but at least i get to jerk off whenever i want.
-i didn't kiss a girl until i was twenty years old. (when i did spell check after i got done writing this i noticed i had put "twenty tears old" there...interesting). as a JW (jehovah’s witness), we weren't allowed to date until we were old enough to marry, and it must be within the religion. i know that age parameter can vary to great degrees, but let's see, as a JW i'd say that was generally around twenty-one years old. the reason for that i believe is that when one gives up the normal pursuits of a teen to run after god, by the time you're getting out of the teen years you're damn ready to start catching up with those things. so the JW's hit twenty or so and immediately fast track towards physical contact, since now they finally can. so i spent the formative years shoving the bible down girls’ throats, when really i should’ve been shoving my tongue. i was really, really into it, as all JW’s when they learn the religion believe themselves to have learned a secret truth. they actually call it “the truth”. i believed i was going to survive armageddon, god’s war against the wicked, due to unleash, according to prophecies in daniel and revelations, imminently. so…to get back to the late smooch…i was twenty. i had never kissed a girl. i had turned down more dates then i cared to remember, and had suffocated my desires as a consequence. but around eighteen or so along came an inkling within me to leave the religion. it took a couple years to take full root, but at twenty i decided it was time to go. it must have been about thirty seconds after that decision was finalized, my mind turned to sex. since this decision was made and i would be leaving soon anyway, i might as well get laid. so i proceeded to hook up with this girl i worked with. we did it in the back of a van. at twenty, i got my first kiss, blow job and sex, all in the same night.
-i lost my family because of the big guy too. after the sex incident, the elders (older men that overlooked the congregation) found out i had sex because my best friend in the religion andy told them. he felt obligated, as the bible says if you know of wrongdoing, but do not report it, you’re as guilty as the culprit. so andy tattled. his father, an elder, and another elder, walked up to me while i was at work at blockbuster video, jumped the line, and asked me in front of about seven unsuspecting onlookers if i had had sex. my heart stopped, literally. i had to tell them yes. a week later i was disfellowshipped, which in catholic terms would be excommunicated. what does this mean? it means I was kicked out of the religion and my parents were not allowed to speak with me anymore. if i continued to go to the kingdom hall (the JW place of worship), all the people there could not speak to me. i was allowed to sit there and listen, but no one could acknowledge me. fun times.
-i didn’t celebrate any holidays. as a sixteen, seventeen year old, no biggie. it pretty much sucked as an eleven, twelve year old. i mean, i had just spent ten years of bliss on december 25th, and all of a sudden it was yanked away. now i’m eleven and december 25th was just another day. the weeks leading up to that day at school now consisted of me constantly having to explain to my friends why i couldn’t partake in the festivities any more. try explaining biblical beliefs to your friends at that age. try telling them you can’t celebrate christmas or your birthday any more because certain passages in matthew, mark, luke and john forbid it. more fun times.
-the masturbation guilt. oh man, the masturbation guilt. wow. where to start? well, masturbation isn’t specifically forbidden in the bible by word. but the JW’s, as with many things, took some liberties with biblical phrasings and outlawed this great act. i believe it fell under “carnal desires”. now listen, i was fourteen, my body was bursting with a zillion new curiosities, and they all seemed to want to manifest themselves out of my penis. under normal circumstances, this is great. go to town. explore the seven seas, the moon, the virgin islands, whatever the fuck you need to do. do it ten times a day. enjoy yourself! but! as a JW…fuggitabottitt! i find it difficult to describe what it was like to be fourteen years old and to want to whack the doodle twenty four/seven, and to not be able to! it’s fucking insane. this is like asking a rocket, once launched, to not fly. a boat, once birthed, to not sail. a cookie, once battered, to not bake. i would be flipping through the sears catalogue, checking out the ladies lingerie, and what’s the next NORMAL HUMAN MALE INSTINCT? you know. we all know. but then the big guy would pop into my head. sex and god in the same brain process is so unnormal, so wrong, such a buzzkill. the ultimate confusion. the anti-peanut butter & jelly. all i wanted to do was release and all he wanted me to do was retard. ugh, what a process that was to calm the desire, breathe deeply, and back that shit up. put ‘er back in the garage. i could only do that so many times and the NORMAL HUMAN MALE INSTINCT would win out. sometimes i would go a few days, sometimes, weeks. if i made it to three weeks without doing it, it was pretty much a miracle. every time i did it, the guilt was through the roof. i felt soooooooo bad. i felt like i was letting god down. feeling like you’re letting god down is pretty heavy for anyone, but it’s pretty hardcore for a teenager. almost every time, right after i did it, i would pray. that visual just blows my mind when i think about it today. i picture myself, pants around my ankles, dick deflating from exhaustion, and my hands clasped in prayer position. me, asking him for forgiveness, in the glow of release, but with a ten ton weight of guilt weighing me down. it’s enough to fuck anyone up for a while, i think. all i know is, if i ever have the blessing of raising a child, i’m gonna set the wee one up. victoria’s secret catalogues, ken dolls, lotions, masks, dvd’s...whatever kid needs, kid’s got it.
people worship in a church, beg god for forgiveness. sin again, ask again. it makes no sense to me. my church is my world, and the hope that i can be as good as i can, be as honest as i can, be as beautiful as i can, and hope that those around me protect that idealism. i’m not naïve, and i know the world won’t necessarily abide, but at least i get to jerk off whenever i want.
Friday, July 17, 2009
The Fight
She slapped him in the face really hard. The follow through broke his heart. They had never fought like this, and both of them were surprised, and devastated. Never had heat wrapped itself around them in this kind of way, this harsh, brutal Siberian storm. He looked at her and could tell the slap came out of a distant place within her he had never seen. It was difficult to say the least to see her this way, but a strange inkling inside him towards amazement took over. How honest was this, he thought? How unbelievably fucking honest is this? And honesty had always been his bedside table, it was even his major in college. He saw her face turn back again into the love he knew, the girl he spent every second of every day protecting. The blood rushed away like demons from the handprint on his face, and her soft, beautiful hand was clearly marked there now, in white. He touched the hurt, and as he did he saw her face melt into regret. She was realizing two things: she had just really hurt her lover, and she had just really hurt herself. He beamed his headlight eyes into hers, and tried to show her that it wasn't her fault. It was both of them, caught up in dangerous, juvenile waters, letting nothing become something. She began to cry from the hurt, and he realized hers was much worse than his. The blood would come back to his face, but the regret would probably never leave her heart. He worshipped the honest, sad, forceful girl in front of him in that moment, loved her more than ever before. She was his angel, and she had fallen out of her own sky for just a moment. He grabbed the hand that had just slapped him, kissed every fingertip, and smiled with his eyes. It took her a moment to accept his gesture, but she did. She closed her eyes, leaned her head against his neck, and exhaled.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Math Class
Jenny was one row over and two seats down. I silently tried to figure out the degree of the angle between us. I determined it to be about forty degrees. I realized that if we took this degree from this scenario and converted it to temperature, the degree of the distance between us would be very cold. I didn’t like that. I wished she was about three seats closer to the front of the class. Our angle would be about eighty-five at that point. If we converted that to temperature, the two of us would be on fire.
Just as I was smiling at the thought, she turned and looked right at me. She gave me the strangest look I’d ever seen – it was somewhere between lust and curiosity. Half the look was confidence, the other was doubt. I’m pretty sure the look I threw back at her could have been labeled simply as “confused”.
I tried to gain some composure, and the only way I knew how to do this was to look away. I didn’t think I’d have to for long, I figured her look would be a quick one. But when I looked back after just a second, she was still looking at me. What the hell? I spent a moment thinking I should look away, but the guy way down deep inside me that normally sleeps through every day, the guy that’s supposed to come forward in moments like these and make a man out of me, actually showed up this time. I kept her stare. I had to know where it would go. She slowly turned her head back to the front of the class. I waited to see change of expression – there was none, she kept the look the entire way through the turn.
My heart beat again, and my guy went back down below. What was that look? What was that look? What on God’s pale earth was that look?
I decided to focus on the lust part of the look. Holy crap, I saw lust shoot from Jenny’s eyes to mine! I didn’t imagine it, it just happened! My heart started speeding like it was at the Brick Yard. Jenny looked at me with lust. Jenny looked at me with lust.
Before I could doom myself and move onto the other part of the look, she dropped a piece of paper on the floor a couple seats behind her and looked at me. What? This was the oldest trick in the book. Damn, that’s hot. She looked at me as if to tell me to pick it up. The other kids around were either looking out the window towards their salvation or at the back of their eyelids for their consolation. No one saw the paper but me. Jenny kept looking at me, wondering what the delay could possibly be. My guy came from down below and screamed “wake the hell up fool!”, so I picked up the note.
Jenny gave me a very slight, sly smile and turned back around. I leaned back in my chair. Holy crap, I held in my hand, for the first time ever, the Bible. Written on this tablet were my ten commandments. Heck, if there were six million on here I’d still obey them all. The paper almost burned through my hand, it was too holy for a mortal such as myself to be holding. I could smell the Frankincense and Myrrh from it as it filled my nose with all of love’s possible history. Without looking, I opened it up and set it on my desk. I waited a few seconds, gathered the camera in my head that would remember this forever, and looked down.
It was upside down.
I looked back up and flipped it over, knowing that when I looked at it again, my future would be written in front of me. What could it possibly say? What blessed words had the angel written? I took a deep breath, reloaded the camera, and looked down again:
“This Class Stinks”
I was in love. I laughed out of sheer hatred for ever having doubted that life was nothing but the bomb. These words were defining me. “This Class Stinks” – what sweet, miraculous words these were to a boy like me. They were all the things in life I cling to – they were funny, they were observant and above all, they were simple. She was the uncomplicated angel. She was the lifeguard letting me swim without floaties.
The bell rang, I suddenly realized I might have a hard time walking. I gathered the strength and started to walk out. She was a few feet in front of me. I wondered if I should say something to her? Man, what could I possibly say in response to such poetry? She had no idea that I had sat at home so many nites and had written prose of so many kinds. She would only know what came out of my mouth right now. This was the moment I needed to throw just a few of those words at her. I needed to hit her so hard with them that her soul would bruise. I needed to stop thinking so much!
I saw her round the corner and disappear into the hall. I sped up a beat and rounded the corner.
I ran right into her. She had stopped in the hall and was waiting for me. I had just touched her shoulder with my upper arm – our first contact. All sorts of fluids and blood raged into my big toe and it became erect. I prayed she wouldn’t look down and see the bulge in my Adidas.
She spoke first.
“Wasn’t that class the worst?”
She was stunning. Her eyes were so blue I thought I saw Barry Sanders running in them. She was made from European Gods. They created her over there and shipped her to the U.S., like they did with the Statue of Liberty, and the Yugo. I had to relax and say something.
“Yeah, it was kinda like that joke about the snail. Do you know that joke?”
She shook her head “no”.
“Well, there’s this guy watching TV and he hears a knock on his door. He goes to the door and opens it up, but there’s no one there. He’s about to close the door and he hears “Hey, I’m down here.” He looks down and sees a snail. He gets pissed and throws the snail out into the yard. Then he goes back inside.”
She was actually paying attention to me. Hot.
“So a few years go by and the guy hears another knock on the door. He opens the door, no one there. He’s about to close the door and he hears “Pssst.” He looks down and sees the snail, and the snail looks up at him and yells “What the hell was that all about?”
Jenny laughed. Not a pretend laugh, but a genuine “I thought that was funny” kinda laugh. I couldn’t believe it. She looked so beautiful in that moment. Her laughter was echoing through my ears. I realized I’d never forget this moment. I would never forget first contact, first joke, first response, first flirtation. We stood there for a couple more seconds just looking at each other. There was a look in her eyes that made me realize I was longed for. That feeling was the most powerful thing I’d ever felt. That moment when you realize you are about to give away some of your secrets to somebody. When you’re about to share what’s inside you, because someone else is interested in exactly that.
We parted ways, went to different classes. But not before I had asked her to go to the movies Friday and she had accepted. We traded numbers and that was that. Just like that my life went from zombie mode to the lead role in the play. I turned to go to gym class, knowing I was destined for thirty points on this day.
Just as I was smiling at the thought, she turned and looked right at me. She gave me the strangest look I’d ever seen – it was somewhere between lust and curiosity. Half the look was confidence, the other was doubt. I’m pretty sure the look I threw back at her could have been labeled simply as “confused”.
I tried to gain some composure, and the only way I knew how to do this was to look away. I didn’t think I’d have to for long, I figured her look would be a quick one. But when I looked back after just a second, she was still looking at me. What the hell? I spent a moment thinking I should look away, but the guy way down deep inside me that normally sleeps through every day, the guy that’s supposed to come forward in moments like these and make a man out of me, actually showed up this time. I kept her stare. I had to know where it would go. She slowly turned her head back to the front of the class. I waited to see change of expression – there was none, she kept the look the entire way through the turn.
My heart beat again, and my guy went back down below. What was that look? What was that look? What on God’s pale earth was that look?
I decided to focus on the lust part of the look. Holy crap, I saw lust shoot from Jenny’s eyes to mine! I didn’t imagine it, it just happened! My heart started speeding like it was at the Brick Yard. Jenny looked at me with lust. Jenny looked at me with lust.
Before I could doom myself and move onto the other part of the look, she dropped a piece of paper on the floor a couple seats behind her and looked at me. What? This was the oldest trick in the book. Damn, that’s hot. She looked at me as if to tell me to pick it up. The other kids around were either looking out the window towards their salvation or at the back of their eyelids for their consolation. No one saw the paper but me. Jenny kept looking at me, wondering what the delay could possibly be. My guy came from down below and screamed “wake the hell up fool!”, so I picked up the note.
Jenny gave me a very slight, sly smile and turned back around. I leaned back in my chair. Holy crap, I held in my hand, for the first time ever, the Bible. Written on this tablet were my ten commandments. Heck, if there were six million on here I’d still obey them all. The paper almost burned through my hand, it was too holy for a mortal such as myself to be holding. I could smell the Frankincense and Myrrh from it as it filled my nose with all of love’s possible history. Without looking, I opened it up and set it on my desk. I waited a few seconds, gathered the camera in my head that would remember this forever, and looked down.
It was upside down.
I looked back up and flipped it over, knowing that when I looked at it again, my future would be written in front of me. What could it possibly say? What blessed words had the angel written? I took a deep breath, reloaded the camera, and looked down again:
“This Class Stinks”
I was in love. I laughed out of sheer hatred for ever having doubted that life was nothing but the bomb. These words were defining me. “This Class Stinks” – what sweet, miraculous words these were to a boy like me. They were all the things in life I cling to – they were funny, they were observant and above all, they were simple. She was the uncomplicated angel. She was the lifeguard letting me swim without floaties.
The bell rang, I suddenly realized I might have a hard time walking. I gathered the strength and started to walk out. She was a few feet in front of me. I wondered if I should say something to her? Man, what could I possibly say in response to such poetry? She had no idea that I had sat at home so many nites and had written prose of so many kinds. She would only know what came out of my mouth right now. This was the moment I needed to throw just a few of those words at her. I needed to hit her so hard with them that her soul would bruise. I needed to stop thinking so much!
I saw her round the corner and disappear into the hall. I sped up a beat and rounded the corner.
I ran right into her. She had stopped in the hall and was waiting for me. I had just touched her shoulder with my upper arm – our first contact. All sorts of fluids and blood raged into my big toe and it became erect. I prayed she wouldn’t look down and see the bulge in my Adidas.
She spoke first.
“Wasn’t that class the worst?”
She was stunning. Her eyes were so blue I thought I saw Barry Sanders running in them. She was made from European Gods. They created her over there and shipped her to the U.S., like they did with the Statue of Liberty, and the Yugo. I had to relax and say something.
“Yeah, it was kinda like that joke about the snail. Do you know that joke?”
She shook her head “no”.
“Well, there’s this guy watching TV and he hears a knock on his door. He goes to the door and opens it up, but there’s no one there. He’s about to close the door and he hears “Hey, I’m down here.” He looks down and sees a snail. He gets pissed and throws the snail out into the yard. Then he goes back inside.”
She was actually paying attention to me. Hot.
“So a few years go by and the guy hears another knock on the door. He opens the door, no one there. He’s about to close the door and he hears “Pssst.” He looks down and sees the snail, and the snail looks up at him and yells “What the hell was that all about?”
Jenny laughed. Not a pretend laugh, but a genuine “I thought that was funny” kinda laugh. I couldn’t believe it. She looked so beautiful in that moment. Her laughter was echoing through my ears. I realized I’d never forget this moment. I would never forget first contact, first joke, first response, first flirtation. We stood there for a couple more seconds just looking at each other. There was a look in her eyes that made me realize I was longed for. That feeling was the most powerful thing I’d ever felt. That moment when you realize you are about to give away some of your secrets to somebody. When you’re about to share what’s inside you, because someone else is interested in exactly that.
We parted ways, went to different classes. But not before I had asked her to go to the movies Friday and she had accepted. We traded numbers and that was that. Just like that my life went from zombie mode to the lead role in the play. I turned to go to gym class, knowing I was destined for thirty points on this day.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
grapefruits and baseball and new philosophies
she stood in front of me in the middle of her room. so many long nites had consisted of me wishing for this exact scenario. but i'd fall asleep heavy with the realization that it wasn't reality. but now, it was for real. i looked at her, and so did the sun and moon, and i heard them say to each other that their light wasn't necessary on this nite, that she had enough to bulb this evening's sky. they decided to retire for a good nite's sleep. but me, i was just waking up to her. her eyes were closed and she spun herself in a dance of contentment. the smile rose on her face, as the corners of her mouth made their way north. she was such a little girl in this moment, seemingly as young and content as i was. i felt like all boys would look upon this scene and wallow in the mud of jealousy. good! i deserve it! i was king for at least this moment. it was as if winter was soon passing, as if groundhog day was in her room, with no shadow in sight, and only minutes remained of my cold, long winter. she was ablaze, melting all the snow that covered my earth, and she was excavating for my glow that struggled just underneath darkness.
she was a hope and a kick in the stamina.
i wondered if i should try to dance with her, hold her, touch her, feel her...but standing a few feet from her was giving me all the excitement i could handle - any closer and i risked melting like a grilled cheese. so i waited, stared, inhaled her. damn, she was hot. damn, she was everything. damn, she was. she spun around again, and her smile reached its' peak. i was at a loss for everything, except happiness. i was five years old, swinging on the monkey bars, belly full of twinkies. she opened her eyes, sent me the lightning of tomorrow, and moved towards me. holy shit, this is what summertime feels like. this is what i write about in the solitude of hoping, craving, waiting, but i wasn't typing this time, i was living it. i smiled, and readied myself for that long longed for contact. would it be bombastic, as my inklings had suggested? would it be the end, the finality of doubting? god, so many questions, so little time, as she's only an inch away now...
the next morning...
i came back from the store and gave her a pack of pudding cups. vanilla. she put them in the fridge. she handed me a bowl of grapefruit and i took a bite. i hadn't tried grapefruit in years, and had resigned myself to not liking it. to my surprise, it was really damn good. she said it made her feel good, alive.
my first thought when she had initially offered it, for some reason, was the grapefruit league. the grapefruit league is what they call spring training for baseball in florida. they call the league in arizona the cactus league, but in florida it's the grapefruit. after eating some of the grapefruit, i was struck by the fact that liking it was one of those curveballs life throws at you, one of those little surprises. and it struck me as ironic that i had just thought about the grapefruit league and how baseball is literally full of curveballs. funny, that.
regardless, i sat at the table and was indeed feeling more alive than the day before. maybe it was the grapefruit, maybe it was me, maybe it was her and how beautiful she looked across the table from me, maybe it was how the grapefruit tasted just like her, maybe it was the show last nite and the cool chinese man we befriended and took out to meet our friends. whatever it was, and i'm guessing it was all those things, i was grateful. and my mind, still in baseball mode, turned to the line that mel gibson says to joaquin phoenix in "signs" when they're confronted by the alien, and joaquin is holding the baseball bat, and mel says "swing away, merrill. swing away." i think i really like that philosophy. yeah, swing away - it seems like a good way to be.
so grapefruits and baseball and new philosophies all sprung from her breakfast table that morning, and i walk home with a smile, and secretly hope that later in the day, when she cracks open one of them puddings and takes a bite, she smiles too, and thinks to herself that it tastes just like me.
she was a hope and a kick in the stamina.
i wondered if i should try to dance with her, hold her, touch her, feel her...but standing a few feet from her was giving me all the excitement i could handle - any closer and i risked melting like a grilled cheese. so i waited, stared, inhaled her. damn, she was hot. damn, she was everything. damn, she was. she spun around again, and her smile reached its' peak. i was at a loss for everything, except happiness. i was five years old, swinging on the monkey bars, belly full of twinkies. she opened her eyes, sent me the lightning of tomorrow, and moved towards me. holy shit, this is what summertime feels like. this is what i write about in the solitude of hoping, craving, waiting, but i wasn't typing this time, i was living it. i smiled, and readied myself for that long longed for contact. would it be bombastic, as my inklings had suggested? would it be the end, the finality of doubting? god, so many questions, so little time, as she's only an inch away now...
the next morning...
i came back from the store and gave her a pack of pudding cups. vanilla. she put them in the fridge. she handed me a bowl of grapefruit and i took a bite. i hadn't tried grapefruit in years, and had resigned myself to not liking it. to my surprise, it was really damn good. she said it made her feel good, alive.
my first thought when she had initially offered it, for some reason, was the grapefruit league. the grapefruit league is what they call spring training for baseball in florida. they call the league in arizona the cactus league, but in florida it's the grapefruit. after eating some of the grapefruit, i was struck by the fact that liking it was one of those curveballs life throws at you, one of those little surprises. and it struck me as ironic that i had just thought about the grapefruit league and how baseball is literally full of curveballs. funny, that.
regardless, i sat at the table and was indeed feeling more alive than the day before. maybe it was the grapefruit, maybe it was me, maybe it was her and how beautiful she looked across the table from me, maybe it was how the grapefruit tasted just like her, maybe it was the show last nite and the cool chinese man we befriended and took out to meet our friends. whatever it was, and i'm guessing it was all those things, i was grateful. and my mind, still in baseball mode, turned to the line that mel gibson says to joaquin phoenix in "signs" when they're confronted by the alien, and joaquin is holding the baseball bat, and mel says "swing away, merrill. swing away." i think i really like that philosophy. yeah, swing away - it seems like a good way to be.
so grapefruits and baseball and new philosophies all sprung from her breakfast table that morning, and i walk home with a smile, and secretly hope that later in the day, when she cracks open one of them puddings and takes a bite, she smiles too, and thinks to herself that it tastes just like me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
