Thursday, October 30, 2008

Black Ribbon

In the second or third grade I won a black ribbon for coming in 6th place in the 100 m dash. There were six runners. I don't remember, but I imagine I was one of those kids who showed up either in jeans or some awkward effeminate looking shorts, not because of the shorts but because of the shape of my legs. I don't remember the shoes either. But I wouldn't be surprised if nurses of the 80's bought the same shoes.
There was nothing in particular about the early afternoon air. I was sure I would lose, I mean win the black ribbon.
I kept the ribbon for years in my "memories" box.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Confessions of a Big Man

Sometimes I stay up really late baking.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008


Although the Halloween memories are somewhat vague, there are still smells and feelings undeniably associated with that night.
In Rexburg, Idaho there is an old lady who lives in a house, a big farm house. She frequently invited me in for pie and Shasta name brand soda in her clean spacious kitchen where she fed lots of growing boys. On Halloween she would give out warm popcorn balls and candied apples. She was everyones veritable grandma. I only regret that I didn't enjoy it more at the time as I was influenced by other youngsters that sought out the dispersion of full-sized chocolate bars in rich neighborhoods in town on the hill. Those are the kids who got to shower every day.
But the little old lady who lives in the country still smiles when children show up and offers pie with a side of Shasta.

Monday, October 27, 2008

"Things That Changed My Life"

I will always remember when I spoke with Virgil standing in the basement of an old church turned foundry. It was filthy and charming all at the same time. But not really. We spent much time there working and listening to music that I didn't like with smells and sounds that I didn't like. There were small dramas and funny, dangerous moments that gave us all the willy's to remember, the kind that are potentially very painful. And sometimes they did happen. I have scars (not emotional) and Virgil has scars. Somehow the vegan didn't get any. It was in no way a family, just dirty guys talking sometimes amidst filth and noise. And then Virgil changed my life.
I told him how sleepless my nights were with babies and bladder relief. He suggested I sit down thus relieving the need for any seeing and guess work even barely waking to relieve myself and continuing my restful night. I'll always be glad that I listened.

Monday, October 20, 2008


I remember wishing that I were part of some dramatic story because it would make me interesting and worth something. I actually day dreamed that while saving the girl of my dreams, the train that was about to crush her would somehow cut off the fat of my belly as I dove away after ripping her from the tracks, thus leaving me a recuperating hero, a victim and skinnier all at the same time.
We love the idea of having a situation being thrown upon us like a bucket of cold water. All the movies cater to this idea that true heroism comes from victimhood. In reality, I'm much more likely to lose weight by dieting and exercising and will probably find that the girl of my dreams just wants a nice stable guy with very few if any strings attached. (as a matter of fact...)