Confessions of a Big Man

Sometimes I smell my clay.

Awkward

I like awkward moments sometimes. At least they give you a story to tell.
But my brother assumed somebody else's embarrassing moment. He claimed the fart of a nerd in a High School classroom. That's charity.

The Best

I recently watched a PBS special called "Sandwiches You Will Like" and they just confirmed something I've known all along. Philadelphia has the best sandwiches in the world.

The Day No Pigs Would Die

It was winter and the snow in Idaho stays until April or longer. In town kids were watching cartoons and eating sugared cereals, the kind that are on tv commercials. And they probably got to take showers every day and talk back to their parents a little and had posters on their sheetrock walls.
I don't know why Dad didn't wake me, maybe it's because I was the sensitive one. But I recall hearing gun shots. And the first thing I remember seeing was a lot of red blood on the snow and Merlin Madsen holding his pistol point blank to the head of one of our four ,trusting, young pigs. He seemed a little reluctant like one of those people that will try anything if he just has an idea of how it works or what in the end needs to be accomplished. But he owned a gun and so offered to help my dad slaughter his pigs. He was the kind of guy who never wanted anything in return, just the benefit of feeling needed.
But he shot the pigs one by one and when I got there the pigs were flopping around and dying. Merlin had to shoot some of them twice or three times. I had on my Kmart winter work boots that were lined with yellow fuzz and probably an old U.S. Army jacket with the name "Waddell" on it from the early 70's. But I didn't feel cold that day.
I was incorporated without any notice and helped where I could, dragging bodies around, stepping in cold blood. The bodies were decapitated and the heads placed on 50 gallon barrels at the front of the driveway where the kids driving by in the school bus could see.
We transported the gutted bodies to the butcher down the road who organized them appropriately, taking his share and jumping town. And we had bacon and ham that didn't taste like it came from the store.

A Certain Place...

There is a certain place in Brooklyn where if you park your car for more than an hour, it will be blanketed in bird poop. There is a certain time where if you walk on Front St. you will see a fat man making pizza dough through the window. And there is a particularly poignant smell at that certain time.
It's easy to take things for granted, especially those things you see, smell and hear every day. I like the view where I am. The bridge never gets old to look at.

Confessions of a Big Man

Sometimes on my Ipod I listen to a Celine Dion song and I turn up the volume.

The First Time

We were on the sandy beach where we camped before exploring the canyons and water skiing. Breakfast was never a big event on the trip but on this particular morning we were given cold cereal in styrofoam bowls with plastic spoons. I chose the Honey-Nut Cheerios. I was exceptionally hungry from the previous days activities and approached the moment with excitement. I don't know how to describe it but there was a sensation when I ate that bowl of cereal that I have never been able to recreate even when I used the same ingredients. I had very rarely eaten sugared cereal before and virtually never with 2% milk. But I relished the moment. I took each bite from the plastic spoon with subtlety and sensitivity disregarding the scratch of the spoon on the styrofoam bowl. It was delightful. I never forgot that taste. I had for the first time in my life tasted Honey-Nut Cheerios the way they were intended to be experienced.
I remember so little about the rest of the trip. But I think it was good.