tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2985016029518752222024-02-18T20:45:40.673-08:00The Spoon Café JournalA Place for StoriesWes Modeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13936508359690388713noreply@blogger.comBlogger94125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-506464010894939543008-08-17T16:00:00.000-07:002011-07-19T12:05:54.749-07:00A Moving Target<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2323/2271415384_d47a4d096d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2323/2271415384_d47a4d096d.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Targeted by <span class="name" id="yui_3_3_0_3_13111022802301372"><strong class="username" id="yui_3_3_0_3_13111022802301725"></strong></span><strong class="username" id="yui_3_3_0_3_13111022802301725"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/slieschke/">Simon Lieschke</a></strong></span></td></tr>
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Spoon is a moving target.<br />
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Trying to balance the whatnot with the heretofore. Not to mention the wherewith.<br />
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You know, not everyone is comfortable publishing their innermost thoughts to the entire Interwebs. Or maybe it is just a matter of presentation, the webs looks so... <i>presented</i>. I can see that that would produce a certain shyness. A kind of activation energy that must be overcome.<br />
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The old Spoon used to be a purely email affair. Mostly because in the heady days of the early internet, that was all we had. Firing off an email about your day, or your life, or an adventure was simple. You understood that the people at the other end of the wires were a finite and knowable group of humans who's stories you knew to a degree. Now, it is hard to imagine that anything like it ever existed. Stories. No pictures. Just thoughts and so many <i>words</i>.<br />
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Back then, webs were something spiders made. Some geeky people were playing around with something called NCSA Mosaic. A computer program with which you could go anywhere, but there was nothing out there to see. It was like riding a bike in a vast empty warehouse.<br />
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Now, I'd be surprised if your mom didn't have a blog. With photos. Maybe even videos of her Arizona vacation.<br />
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So there is some balance between the breezy ease of email and the flashy presentation of the web, and I'm looking to find that right balance.<br />
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I added a Spoon email list. You can post to it at <a href="mailto:spooncafe@googlegroups.com">spooncafe@googlegroups.com</a> and it will go to all the subscribers (but won't appear here on the web). But if you post here on the web at <a href="http://spooncafejournal.blogspot.com/">spooncafejournal.blogspot.com</a>, it will go to both.<br />
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So I figure some shy, hesitant conversation will happen on the Spoon email list, hopefully with increasing confidence and comfort. Then maybe when someone posts something particularly awesome, we'll have to encourage them to post it on the blog. And then maybe folks will just get into the habit of posting their stories directly to the blog (which will go to the blog and email list both). And we'll comment and shoot the shit on the email list in response.<br />
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Or something like that.<br />
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Kind of complicated until we get it all figured out and it all seems so easy we get impatient with the fumbling of newcomers.<br />
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And this is also a test to see if it will automagically go out to the email list.Wes Modeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13936508359690388713noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-37722394850341263602012-03-14T16:48:00.003-07:002012-03-14T17:14:28.283-07:00Power DreamsOne,<br /><br />Dad was shot. Some amalgamation of both dads was shot for some reason. Either before or after, we sit together and he tells me I will have to tell that story alone. Suddenly, he rises and says, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Okay, NOW.</span>" And then I know in a flash that all my parents are gone and I feel the responsibility weigh heavy on me. I think, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Now I am a woman. I am all alone and must be strong like my parents before me.</span>" I am terrified.<br /><br />I woke up to the rain outside.<br /><br />Two,<br /><br /> Me and seven to ten men have a plan to steal lots of money somehow. Through our work, maybe. The plan is foolproof- 100%, we are convinced. We open some hatch, leave only empty boxes, and leave. Gleeful and laughing. It will be months before they find out.<br /> As we leave, there are telltale signs that something is amiss. Police had been called in last night for no discernible reason. <span style="font-style: italic;">Could be for anything,</span> we reassure ourselves. We leave in a suburban. Are cops following? When we get back, we know we've been discovered. <span style="font-style: italic;">But how?!</span> Cops surround the house. We lock all doors, try to barricade the doors. Someone is hitting the lock with a hammer to get it jam locked. It feels like a lost cause. We talk about that while the cops are busting the front door in. At one point, a cop gets inside, but does nothing.<br /> Then, through the window, M and his mom arrive on what I assume is M's new motorcycle. They are both wearing gas masks, which makes a lot of sense to me. They dismount, but M rides down the road. Thinking the game is up anyway, a close friend and I leave the house through a side door that we'd forgotten about, to meet M down the street, down the hill. He is smiling. We talk briefly and then realize the cops don't see us. The two of us convicts began to jog into the woods ahead. It is redwoods, eucalyptus, lakes and green open areas. Along the way, we meet A, who joins us. We cross rivers to make them lose our trail. A starts yelling a bit. My friend and I get nervous- he tells her to be quiet, to which she doesn't respond well. More yelling. She yells that her hip hurts. I decide to not tell her to be quiet, and ask her about her pain. She tells me about it. I ask if it is tendon pain, told her about my sciatica. She says, "<span style="font-style: italic;">Thanks for listening to me,"</span> and so on and she doesn't yell anymore.<br /> We think we hear dogs. Nervous. But we still think we can get away. Suddenly, lots of people are with us, and we are walking casually to go play some golf. I admit concern with being discovered, and we decide to postpone. My last thought before waking is if we will still be able to get far enough away...Thomas Mayflowerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16462940564511242393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-63589212822236350332011-09-04T10:24:00.000-07:002011-09-07T11:58:15.600-07:00Postblogs From Nigerjust dusted off this piece of writing meant to be sent off months ago, but here it is september &... <br /><br /> “Tuesday, May 17, 2011.”<br /><br />That’s what the calendar she say. 45 degrees that’s what the thermometer said bout 8 o’clock this night. Celsius. 28 degrees C= 82 degrees F. you do the math...<br /><br />the weather she takes a turn for the super hot from just hot...gittin hot enuff fer me, yep...that’s the weather report from these parts. how do people do it, but have they a choice but to? my life cushioned by the air con units in my various work, home, and social environs. aye, without it life would be a misery indeed. funny, for but the stint in new orleans before I arrived in this heat & dust, air con was not a part of my prior existence for any notable time. thus have I become, or becoming....<br />sooooo, according to the marks on my wall, I am now in the thick of my 10th month on these fair shores far far away from the california I did and mayhaps probly shall again call “Home.” osama bin laden has been perished, libya invaded since my last electronic postcard. the kidz and I are finishing up my first year of full time teachin’, currently in the midst of lessons on space travel, the U.S. Constitution, and a puppet theatrical show about some children who helped turn a dump in to an art/recycling/Friendship Park. hoping you and especially your american sized checkbooks will be making their way to our big show Friday next to help turn puppet shows in to Reality....<br /><br />speaking of which, we couldn’t help but notice on My side of the atlantic that The Donald (Trump) has cast his name into & out of the presidential race. I’m sure he shall be sorely missed by comedians all over this fair globe, myself included...yes, america, what have ye been up to since last I did write? what of this libya adventure, this bin laden deposing? I would have surely been out on the streets chanting “U.S.A.! U.S.A!” but, well...did people really do that?...or was this a Fox halftime infomercial somebody decided to run outside of the Super Bowl?..<br /><br /> I was tho able to sneak the jimi hendrix’s “Star Spangled Banner” in to our school’s international day practice instead of the heart swelling original version, tho not the int’l day itself alas as my cover was blown to the anti-patriots who run such affairs. communists! terrorists! joykills! or whoever is the Enemy these days....<br /><br /> Speaking of The Enemy, Libya, again.!? wasn’t that in the Reagan 80’s?! old moammar even looks like an 80’s washed up rockstar that’s seen better dayz. But alas, fair America, I must be the first to tell you that in these parts old mommar is not seen as The Devil incarnate ye have made of him. no, he has earned many friends in these parts due to his funding of various philanthropic endeavors south of the sahara from mosques to garden projects to schools, etc. But, not to worry, obama is still probably, probably, still as popular here as ever, so the america h8rs aren’t so much on every other street corner. Keep those dollars and rap songs/videos coming to keep the terrorists at bay! maybe just maybe it would blind people to some of the connections being made between Libya’s oil reserves & America’s foreign interventions in this part of the world... oil that is helping to send me to europe this summer courtesy of my benevolent employers by way of the Moroccan national airline, Air Maroc and her gas tanks filled with Libyan crude to the wide streets of Paris...see you in paris, london, and maybe even amsterdam, deutschland, poland, and of course The Ukraine!!! maybe we could meet in prague and marvel at the abundance of trash cans & art & paved roads, though wistfully admitting to missing the cattle & goats & friendly strangers in the streets of Niger...Africa! I miss ye already and would surely say or type it if I hadn’t just fried my keyboard on the sweat poring from every pore! I’m not even gone yet! or at least not for 2 weeks from Tuesday, though who’s counting, right??!!...X<br /><br /><br />(insert Euro Tour 2011 Adventure here, june-august 2011)...dfreshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06593910826207613318noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-32303334115347482442011-08-12T14:36:00.000-07:002011-08-12T15:04:45.541-07:00grapes and gratitude<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTmPBetIvxveT4W5nZ3LUvjrpujk3rSwTT3h84xGhZo-r4YZrwChMeJCpNwtNbq-yBIKnBKSLgdzYAUF-Dn5ls91i2btMn-GE54BRejYDiY8L_bbTIdQpyP5sPm1U7N0U49BiZk3Y-c5A/s1600/wine.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTmPBetIvxveT4W5nZ3LUvjrpujk3rSwTT3h84xGhZo-r4YZrwChMeJCpNwtNbq-yBIKnBKSLgdzYAUF-Dn5ls91i2btMn-GE54BRejYDiY8L_bbTIdQpyP5sPm1U7N0U49BiZk3Y-c5A/s320/wine.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640089548151848402" border="0" /></a>Fret not, mothers of young children who read my last blog post and were filled with a desparate need to hug your children tightly to your chest and keep them young forever. Despite the heart-rending, tear-jerking moments, there are some good things about them growing up and, dare I say it, moving out. Not that I'm adjusted to life without my oldest son yet--I think a part of me will miss him every day that I don't see him. But. But, friends, there are moments when you will be Glad. You will be filled with Gratitude. And you might even be filled with Grapes, in the form of a good cabernet. I'm just saying. Youngest son is off an adventure to Cincinnati with a friend's family. Oldest son is off on his band's East Coast tour, coming to a city near you (I'm sure I'll be blogging more about that). I took the day off work. I got up early and ran 11.5 miles with my running buddy and wonderful all-around buddy in general, Tanya. I felt absolutely no pressure during the run. No one was waiting on me. No one needed milk or cereal or money or a ride or anything. I came home and I TOOK A NAP people. Yes I did. Then I piddled around doing some laundry and some reading. Now it is Friday night and the husband is due home at any minute. I have baked a loaf of homemade dill-onion-cottage cheese bread and the aroma is filling the house with amazing smells. I have opened a bottle of wine, and prepared a plate of fresh farmer's market veggies and crackers and even farmer's market cheese. I have poured myself a glass of Grape Goodness and am imbibing as I type this. We are having one of our weird veggie dinners that one of the kids absolutely hates. But who cares! He's not hear to complain! Not a word of dessention is to be heard in this home regarding weird dinner! (Sauteed broccolli, shitake mushrooms, and onions, piled on toast, topped with cheese, and popped under the broiler until the cheese melts, if you must know. It's truly delish.) And so, after raising kids for 21 years (29 years for the husband), we find ourselves Gratifyingly, Gladly, Goldenly.....alone. Until Sunday. Woot.
<br />Julie Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12870986467688583203noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-4697827137820868772011-03-18T08:39:00.000-07:002011-03-18T08:56:38.355-07:007 months Postblog from NiameyJust about 7 months now since the “Niamey Campaign” began, since I left the glory glitter and gangstas of new orleans for the unknown and dust of west africa. now the dust coats everything just a little bit thicker, the sand gets deeper on the roadways, sometimes taxis getting stuck having to get pushed out by the nearby kidz. Niamey carves itself deeper in to me, I gaze toward the summer for flight to europe in june. okay, I’m getting a little sick of the squalor, dust, etc.!! and sometimes just a little sick...<br /><br />much of the past couple of months here in Niamey have been shaped by the kidnapping of a couple of French guys from a local bar bout 2-3 miles from my house, one of the Unlucky or Targetted (depending on the source) about to be wed to a Nigerienne woman, the other his best man in town for the marriage between the worlds. the abducters got as far as the neighboring state of Mali where abducters and abductees were all exterminated in a hail of bullets from French Special Forces or maybe kidnappers, again accounts differing depending on opinion or source. because of this episode, the peace corps left the country as well as a study abroad program run through Boston University. other NGO’s potentially leave as well. there is something of a sense of flight in the “expat” community, except the missionaries and the chinese. no appearances of either one of these entities fleeing, nope. the locals are most effected as their opportunities for some kind of decent job/livelihood further diminishes with the security downgrades....<br /><br />do I feel more “ in danger?” that the kidnappers will come for me? not really. my house, and job that is a mile away, are secure, guarded, etc. I rarely went out previously “on the town,” as much due to my language and transportation deficiencies as anything else. Now, almost never, except for when I had a couple of visitors from Israel and Mexico who were visitin, mutually conspiring to make things happen in this big friendly sleepy African village of about a million. one of the better social spots we went to is a bar called “Le Cloche,” formerly frequented mostly by the French and locals, but now mostly locals due to French flight and security concerns. there are pool tables and a funny atmosphere punctuated by a “midget” who is something of the maître’d and the ensemble of friendly prostitutes in their ridiculous showy flashy garbs...<br /><br />so that’s something of the Scene. life for me centers mostly upon the school where I work, where enrollment has plummeted from about 80 a few years back to its present 49, further increasing the sense of flight in the surroundings. my class is converting the book The Phantom Tollbooth in to a play, a book where the main character Milo sees little use in learning such things as “adding turnips to turnips” or “learning to spell February." we do some lessons on waste disposal/resource conservation in science, discus the slave trade in social studies, start up a Drum Corps in an after-school class, etc. I am taking French lessons on the side and learning how to ask people if they are married and how many kids they want to have...<br /><br />went to the local missionary school last week for their quarterly “Casa del Burrito” where they serve up various Mexican dishes in a festive outdoor environment. my table had my school’s recreation center director Ginger and her local husband; the assistant to the U.S. Ambassador, Lucy; myself; and a local friend of mine, Naba, who works at the school. definitely no sense of deprivation nor flight amongst the missionaries. their enrollment increases proportionally to our losses, their tuition kept reasonable by an unsalaried missionary teacher corps, their dedication unwavering amongst kidnappings and risilent Faith...<br /><br />couple weeks ago went to the definitely coolest sounding African city, “Ouagadougou,” in the neighboring country of Burkina Faso, formerly called Upper Volta some years back. went there with our school’s softball team for a tournament. didn’t see a whole lot of the town, but it definitely has a more energized feel than Niamey. heard drumming in the evening, saw lots of bicyclists, including women. women rarely ride bikes in Niamey because of a more strident version of Islam here, from what I understand, or women not being “athletic” here in Niger as stated by another, or a cross somewhere between the two. my brother Nelson tells me that Ouagadougou is 30% Christian, 30% Islamic, and 100% Animist, animists evidently seeing no shame in the bicycle, nor music for that matter. maybe not so different from the States...<br /><br />are things a bit gritty and grim a little less glorified from my previous journalings, though I do recall one previous blogging alluding to fluids fleeing my body like ex-patriots after the coup? the dust gets thicker, the various bacterias accumulate in this foreigner’s gut in this some times wretched wretching corner of the earth, the sense of newness deteriorates into honest assessments that yes this dusty corner of the earth can at times be accused of being a “Shit hole”....though I did neglect to mention the magical scene a couple nights back of playing drums for the local kids in the street as they danced about wildly, the night time foosball games with other Nigerienne youth up the street, etc....so it goes so it goes....and goes...from the ever shifting sands of sub-saharan landlocked west africa next to the so-called “Slave Coast,” historic departure point of Africans on their way to the Americas for a life of toil and servitude bout 500 years ago yesterday we learn about in my social studies class...<br /><br />& so with that cheery thought, let us now turn out attention to my awakening this morn to the sounds of explosions, a text message from the director of the school where I work to stay home, to activate the “school phone tree” to alert the students & parents there shall not be school on account of unaccounted for explosions in the distance. there is excitement in the air. what kind of danger might be lurking, what armed menace outside our walls? my local housemate informs me that the 2nd in command in the army is on trial for treason or such, maybe there is a disturbance out at the military barracks outside of town, maybe maybe in the land of African speculation. what if we need to flee? this the classic moment of what you would take and why under such immediate circumstances. but, a call to my brother 2 blocks away lessens the tension as he informs me that he has heard there has been an accident involving a military truck and some propane tanks, which sounds suspicious and odd, but actually turns out to be the case, verified by the eyewitness reliable account of him going up on his roof to see smoke billowing in the distance from an unsuspicious location.... <br /><br />& so the interesting bizarre surreal moments of the “Anasorra” (white person) in Niger, attempting to get information on mysterious goings ons, a consistent endeavor for this relative newbie to the region. where do you go if you get completely sick, injured, need a root canal, want to see the town, let alone resolving a contract dispute with a sometimes despotic school headmaster, etc? where do you get your info, the News, etc. to find out what’s what? don’t think the previously mentioned accident will quite make CNN nor Fox. maybe get The News from the tv that plays outdoors by the foosball tables I play with the local kids and where I get my yogurt drinks, powdered milk, juice boxes, sodas? very outside chance maybe it’ll be broadcasting something bout something or perhaps more likely a patron could have heard the latest rumor, though my french still sux ass and I still could not be accused of being anything resembling fluent. learning just enough to make out half the truth, ask how much papayas cost by the kilo, etc. etc. & my bro offers up that the guards for the U.S. Embassy worker across the street from my house are likely to know what’s going down, if something is going down....yeah, it’s the sorting out the details, making those connections, hell figuring out what the hell is going on and how to get there without a car and minimal language skills to boot, etc etc .... <br /><br />is this turning in to some sort of surrealist rant? no, that’s just the way it is it is, through these eyes necessarily conditioned and pre-conditioned by a world far more than the half way round the globe it purports to be, and perhaps still is, that stole the ancestors of my colleagues and neighbors from these shores half a millennia ago. in case you cared or are still reading, I do in fact have a right to be indignant, especially since I declared today amongst my colleagues over some carnivorous lunchtime dish that "I am no longer Vegetarian, but Nigerienne"...Please, tell me America, if I can’t put my toes in the Pacific Ocean does it still exist? are trees falling that i am not there to hear? chat me up on Facebook, sponsor of the African revolutions with Twitter and Google, to let-me-know.com....<br /><br />peace.dfreshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06593910826207613318noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-43605239286849616552011-02-06T11:46:00.000-08:002011-02-06T12:02:41.047-08:00Postblogs from Niamey“Postblogs from Niamey: 3 months in”<br /><br /> “3 months in.” Sounds kinda like a countdown to a release date, some kind of a prison sentence I am serving, which isn’t entirely fair. More like an exile, though self-imposed. But not a prison sentence, no, though my largish school provided abode is ringed in razor wire, but: keeping Them out not Me in...no, it is a journey far far away to a distant and oftentimes hospitable land...<br /><br /> & tonight going out for the second time this week on the town to dance dance dance the night away @ a Club with the Nigerienne hip set...and last time I went did notice & make note of the fact that there are people gyrating and jiggling and whooping it up on dance floors all across this World to an American beat. if America is in decline as it frets itself into believing these dayz, the newz hasn’t made it here yet. Brand America: still selling, delivering, providing beats & visions of Glory to dancers across the globe, of ghetto superstars and Hollywood star(lette)s broadcasting their songs and stories and messages to flatscreens and dance halls in impoverished countries all over the land... ..<br /><br /> And I realize that I dig the hip club at least as much as the funky corner store folks, “The Alimentation,” with the fridge out front you can buy the yogurty drink, or the bean guy up the way who always has the koranic scholars reading something in their big gold-rimmed sunglasses when I stroll on up for today’s and every day’s special: beans or beans and rice with a hot sauce and oil, ladled out of the wood fed cauldron...yes, there’s a many places to go and see in this corner of the earth...if only I could say more than the greetings, pointings, single word sentence usually wanting something! though in all honesty none of these various local & colonial tongues hold the allure & beauty of the Spanish I learned on my last adventure to foreign lands....<br /><br />...and so anyway, back to The Club story, the heading off to the unknown with the best friend of my Taureg roomie who was visiting from Switzerland without his Swiss wife, wondering only in the end WWLW, What Would Leaf (my extravagant electronic musician woods dwelling shamanic graduate student ex-roomie friend living I think in Stockton, California, now) Wear? whose sense of shame shall be eviscerated this very night? I know you forbid ugly Americanness dear Reader, but you said nothing of freaky & I certainly did not Vote for such...<br /><br /> & I did go out on the town, though not nearly heroically on a Thursday night as the previous Saturday night: one more chance to see the groooovy hip spots in town, hear the American music over the sound systems before the visiting Taureg returns to Switzerland the following eve, German our only common language to navigate & dance dance dance the night away... & still at this point it’s not totally apparent nor transparent who are the single gals out on the town and who are the prostitutes, but after consulting various locals and “in-the-know” foreigners after the fact, it appears that in deed most of the aforementioned gals out on the town are in fact “working gals” & that “ hip gals out @ the Clubs” & “prostitute” are interchangeable & in fact redundant terminologies much to the detriment of any sort of political correct indoctrinations or pretensions or such I may have previously held...but it ain’t like that & tonight is just for pool on battered tables with small balls & spectating & respectable amounts of drinking of various club goings ons... <br /><br />& so the next day I did go to the police station, though not on account of any sort of misdoings from the previous night mind you, but instead to procure a “Certificate of Residency” so that I could open up a bank account at a local bank to put some cash in, instead of various squirreled away places I currently hide my spending ca$h away to tide me over til the next payday. & I did go to such police substation & was treated to another cultural delight of waiting in the Spartan waiting room with my school driver (named “Innocent” of all things) for the desired stamp on my photocopied passport paper & aforementioned Certificate. <br /><br />Yes, I was privileged to wait there in the Po Station & witness the quite vocal quite angry quite disturbed wall-shaking-yelling-threatening-to-come-to-blows-or-worse coming from behind the partially closed door marked something to the effect of “Judicial Affaires,” while the calm and bespeckled middle-aged gals in full African regalia and headdresses who waited upon me did calmly go about their business in something of a Gandhian manner behind their wooden Colonial desk in the waiting room, a portrait of the latest government/military head beaming down on us from his framed picture on the wall, He the head of the “Committee to Restore Democracy” the caption did read, anointed when the last head of state threatened to overstay his term indefinitely as African heads can be want to do but was dutifully deposed & put under house arrest, more peacefully mind you than a previous usurper of years back who met his end on the wrong end of a rather unfortunate rocket launcher “accident”...<br /><br />yes, so I did get my certificate of residency duly & was on my way again with Innocent...my residence has been certified. I am here, Resident, my permanence recognized by the State of Niger amidst the ever shifting sands of sub-Saharan Africa... <br /><br />and eegad man, it’s been 5 months now here in Africa and 2 months since I started this blog entry & in the meanwhiles I’ve had 13 hour road trips to the East to the ancient trading city of Zinder & then there were the kidnappings of some French guys here in Niamey (a groom and his best man caught in the crossfire of international relations, armed al-qaedians, hot pursuits across country lines, a large pile of bodies in the horrible end) & ensuing curfews issued to official Americans & then my Dad visiting & of course camel trips & ...but that’ll have to wait for next time along with conjured up ideas for “Jackass” style stunts at the local mosque (that continues to blare entire prayer services at decidedly unGodly hours) by hijacking the sound system with “They Built this City on Rock and Roll;”...& visitors to my Maisson from Israel and Mexico with stories of woe and glory to share about their West Africa meanderings en route here across the Sahara and such... <br /><br />but, must not wait any longer to get it “Right,” these perceptions of Africa thru the Western lens, my lens! must send out this message in bottle/internet as incomplete and biased as it necessarily must be!....dfreshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06593910826207613318noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-91796346100724345472010-09-28T14:13:00.000-07:002010-09-28T14:21:43.190-07:00Africa: 1 month InThe Africa Adventure: Entering Month 2<br /><br /> It’s been 1 month now in to “The African Adventure...a few choice moments (not for the faint of heart!):<br /><br />• night time bike rides: by the gardens, etc, electricity in the air, donkey carts, people wheelbarrowing their wares or carts stacked sky high full of flip flops cell phone head pieces & stuff lots of stuff 4 sale, bikin by the mosque with night time crescent moon & venus & mars overhead as people stand reverently in prayer facing my way....<br /><br />• & Ramadan is over now praise Allah & the calls to prayer over 4 loudspeakers just over back fence only all hours of day now, not night. people not starving nor thirsting themselves sunrise to sundown to the brink of death or hopefully some spiritual vision of some sorts...food vendors out now, nobody givin you the evil eye for having a bite to eat or drink during daylight hours & it might be my imagination but seems like people also not dressed so covered up always all the time in the heat like during the holy month. why, allah, do you make people wear so many clothes when it gets so hot, cover up all over, African women dressed up like black little bo peeps?..<br /><br />• my job: the school job kidz from senegal, niger, america, deutschland, schweis, hindustan, etc. 9 kidz to teach, down from the 30+ in USA. the easiest, best, best paying job with benefits I’ve ever had & it’s here in impoverished Niger..teaching bout native America, doing dances around the room, making paper & stick teepees, showing shadow puppets, making comix, meeting the kidz’ folx last week for the parent conferences, availing myself of the music room facilities and afternoon jam sessions with the kidz...<br /><br />• shoppin @ the “petit marche” (“small market” for the non-francophones) all the stuff to buy, people to see, vat of peanut butter I do not jump into buying: that’s too much for me to stomach putting in my mouth & stomach @ this point.. things balanced on african heads, somebody sellin a shoebox of green beans & I buy a handful, the nomad & the bracelet I buy from him, the honey stand on the side o the road tastin sorta molassesy jarred in some olde sody pop bottle or such, but I taint complainin...<br /><br />• security: & I am an american & 5 french kidnapped to the north of the country in uranium mine town of Arlit & somebody let the terrorists know that maybe some folx’ll pass the can for me back home, but don’t expect to get rich from this kidnapped american. still, there’ll be no going to the cool festival in northern niger with the dancing fulanis on account of “security concerns” and such, 80 French paratroopers flown in to get back their countrymen, Niger “on a war footing”...<br /><br />• & the mosh up @ the bean place up the dusty road from mi home where we get a bag of hot beans for 30 cents, traded insults escalating to blows, rocks & hammer wielding between taureg roomie & drunken insulter...<br /><br />• cholera outbreak sposed to be headed this way according to Mom wonderin bout my vaccines, one of the teachers @ the school may have typhoid...<br /><br />• visiting big bro, his wife, my nephews over @ their house in the more Nigerienne/local section of town: more locals, kids playing on homemade foosball on the sidewalk, people walkin bout, open stank of sewers going 6 feet down we joke/fear bout stepping in to some dark night, everybody’s out sellin somethin or maybe watchin the telly under the stars with the family or neighbors...<br /><br />• watchin football @ the “club” run by the very pregnant ex-peace corps gal with the missionaries, marine: am I really an american? are we from the same country/planet? why am I embarassed by other americans 90 % of the time I am travelling? but the peace corpse volunteers don’t seem half bad & the missionaries friendly when ya get down to it. americans in niger, is what it is & the gal with child in charge has visions of glory & realities of movie nights on the grounds: a “Jaws” screening by the pool, “Bad News Bears” on the rutted baseball diamond to go with weekend softball games, some movie about a stay @ home dad playing over at the playground, etc...<br /><br />• my house: in the Kaoro Kano, meaning Beautiful Place: calm. not so much going on in this hood, but big dark places between houses watched over by guards sittin out front, goats eating loco weed as we call it back home on the side of the dirt road I take to work, people living out of the shanties to the side of the selfsame road, kids yell out “antasorra!” sounding something like “anti-sorrow” or such- the name for whities, them wanting a shiny coin or maybe a greeting & I give them a French greeting, “bon jour!” I buy stuff from the little store with the yogurt drink & dates & bubbly ginger citron drink, stop by the guy selling little black eyed peas by the vat: he puts them in my container not his plastic bag he usually puts hot beans in for like 30 cents american, enough for 3 meals. I’ll make it into chili with some tomato sauce & spices & corn. this place tain’t so bad in all it’s calm, especially when you find out it’s the last place in town to lose electricity during Black-outs & the first to have it turned back on merci...<br /><br />• next day I go to load up on provisions at the bustling “Petit Marche’” where everything can be gotten...i’ve come on bike with my green army backpack/duffel bag to load the goods into. I’m getting familiar enough with Niamey to bike around the narrow streets, not get too freaked out by the cars passing close by this shared/strained resource: the road...i get to the marche, lock bike by the nicer restaurant with good pizza & parking lot attender for safekeeping, almost immediately accosted by everyone wantin to sell me somethin, lots of wheel barrows filled up with produce: oranges, tomatoes, potatoes, onions, eggplants, etc. I’m dressed in a nice shirt I cut the sleeves off of, thinking after a spell I shoulda dressed even a little more down, especially after the guy approaches me to sell laptop cases and a knife, switchblade knife, he pops open to show me its dangerous magnificence. is it my imagination? ”americain, americain.” is there malice in this display? he repeats, “americain, americain.” pops the knife open again. he knows from my lack of french speaking, accent, that I am american, or did I unwittingly mention it at some moment? there is something dastardly in the way he says, repeats, “americain, americain.” I don’t like the way he brandishes the switchblade, tell him so, move on to the potato seller. but I realize that I’ve spent my change & my smallest bill is worth $20 American, 10,000 CFA (Central Franc Africaine), the local currency. read recently the per capita income here in niger somewhere between 300 and 700 dollars depending on the source, though they all agree niger is one of 5 poorest countries in the world. you do the math on how much that 10,000 CFA note is worth & to who...I need go elsewhere to break my bill, don’t want to break it here, make a break for the heart of the market, past the meat sellers and their long knives, trying unsuccessfully not to consider my images of africans with machetes in the Sudan. but here in niger the locals mostly smiling, kind, yes...i find a little shop in the bustle where I can get some cheap imitation corn flakes, dried milk powder, juice, where I can break the bill...i load up, go back to get the rest of my goods including bunches of mint & basil, taters, onions, zucchini, eggplant, oranges, get back to the bike, get a bracelet from the turbaned nomad, hop back on the bike, lug my backpack full of stuff home, done shopping, back to the island of tranquility, my home with 5 rooms & 2 roomies & one guard out front & 2 dogs & one green swimming pool, etc...<br /> <br />• oh yeah, except that I forgot to mention the garbage. the piles of it all about, even this nice neighborhood. kitchen scraps, the ubiquitous plastic bags, yard trimmings, etc...i visualize an army of commando master composters organizing this into something useful, the neat piles of goat food here, kitchen scraps there, plastic bags being made into some building material or another, compost, etc...not such a far off reality in a place where not much is wasted, everything used...and then the ecotopia visions of grandeur sees that most people also are not dependent on cars for transport, the urban gardens all over, the goats roaming the streets, the possibilities of rain cachement?...someday africa, someday ye shall arise in such splendor again!!!...from the trash piles ye shalle arise! like an african sunrise, a beauteous array of sorted rubbish!...am I crying, or is that my eyes smarting as I bike by the toxic burn piles I gag upon biking home from work?...<br /><br />• and then there’s the whole subject of “shiting one’s brains out” and the debacle this night, the bent over praying to some god that must have been offended, “mercy” “mercy.” oh merciful allah, I take back at least half way the condemning of the blaring loudpeakered calls to prayer coming from ye place of worshipe over back fence...it’s like I discovered some years back upon my 1st trip to Niger: it ain’t like, ”guess I had a little too much spicy food last night.” no, it’s like I’m going to fucking die right here, all of my fluids fleeing the body like americans after the coup...this is not the way I pictured it while picturing it listening to Tom Waits singin “How’s it Going to End?” though there is something entirely too Waitsish about such a hellishly beatific & grim ending of bodily fluids & prayers...yes, all exaggeration aside, mortality never too too far away here in africa...and with that cheery note: <br /><br />• that’s the way it was it was....dfreshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06593910826207613318noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-78183244021872849852010-08-28T17:19:00.000-07:002010-08-28T18:11:26.708-07:00Dust & Glory2 weeks tomorrow since my plane touched down in Niamey, Niger. 2 weeks since the bags were packed up & i shipped out to this west african country "9th poorest in the world" according to some list somewhere. 14 days since it was "good-bye New Orleans, California, friends, good-bye U.S. of A, see you in 2 years." i'm under contract. that's how long. never been "under contract."<br /> The first days some kind of dazed jet lagged get my feet on the ground get ready for my school job rush and bustle. Moving in to the new house, meeting the roomies, sizing up things, dinner over the river except no dinner because it's the Islamic holy month of Ramadan and nobody's eating & the cooks ain't cooking. So we get pizza and gawk @ the "Petit Marche" across the way, "Small Market" in the French. It's packed with vendors and there seems nothing French nor petit about it.<br /> So here I am, made the move. Africa! I was here 20 years before on an adventure as a 20 year old, meeting my big brother and his then girlfriend now wife who had just gotten out of the Peace Corps. We traipsed about the countryside, up into the hills, over to the nearby countries of Togo, Ghana, and Benin, as well as 2 months in Niger. It was the most fascinating time of my life seeing life thru these different eyes and ways. Now I am back, as school teacher not intrepid traveller, return'd to the scene of the crime so to speak. For adventure and bizarrely enough to get out of debt, coming to the 9th poorest from the 8th or something richest country to make some coin.<br /> And so every day an adventure unto its own. Moving in to the house to discover the house/my room is getting sprayed for termites my second day in residence. I recall my brother mentioning how toxic "first world" banned chemicals make there way down to Africa frequently when chemical companies need to find some kind of a market for their already produced goods. I am starkly reminded of it as I walk into the kitchen while poison is being applied, nearly retching right then and there, fleeing the scene to the school director's house next door to wait out the stench for a week. Welcome to Africa!!!<br /> And so it has been over the past 2 weeks, every task an adventure. Making the connections to survival, food. Food that will not turn this American stomach inside out. The omelette and coffee stands of picnic bench with gas stove, out doors of course. The driving all bout town with a new friend, Naba, as he takes me to find beans, one place after the other closed for Ramadan til success is ours. But, we also mustn't forget the night of going out with roomies to the Senegalese place with yummmmmmy toppings over yucccckkky rice. Seems the local yummy rice gets exported to France, the yucky rice imported from Algeria or such.<br /> And so as i recognize the difficulty of getting food, i decide to try out Ramadan for a few days, give the fasting thing a shot. Only, I drink liquids. They don't. Not a drop of water nor spit nor nothing sunrise to sunset. In the hottest place on Earth, Africa. But, I do realize that in numbers comes solidarity. People are ordealing this together. I have fasted before, but only with me & maybe another person or 2. This is a community act, but also an act of solidarity with the poor i am told. & a test in case @ one point in your life you find yourself involuntarily in a position of not having food nor water... <br /> And so i see this shall be a tale of glory & hardship. The common endurance. The dust, donkeys, kindnesses, giraffes, hippos. The living softer and harder than I've ever done. The adventures to get the goods, buy the PVC for my shadow puppet stage with my Taureg room mate @ the aforementioned Petit Marche, people running hither and yon to make the sale. It woulda been alot easier @ the hardware store back home, but not quite the adventure nor glory nor something all together different than that from which I have fled 2 weeks past. <br />I am here in the dust. <br />& Glory.dfreshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06593910826207613318noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-73603411900108778222010-08-20T13:33:00.000-07:002011-07-19T12:06:44.147-07:00A Cold Rain Fell As We Watched the Dust Settle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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I wondered why we had stopped. I looked up the tracks and couldn't understand what I was seeing. There seemed to be a haze along the tracks, like fog. But only near the buildings that were alongside the tracks just up from our unit. Wait! Those weren't building, those were freight cars! The fuck? What were they doing there? On their sides? They were a long way away from the rest of the train. Who'd left them there? Was that our train? Holy fucking shit. Was that our train? Was our train scattered about like you see in aerial photos of train accidents in Bombay? <br />
<br />
And then it occurred to me. Those were the grainers we were going to ride. Our grainers were now tumbled ass over teakettle 50 feet or more from the tracks. <i> Our. Grainers. The ones we were going to ride. </i> Three or four cars up from our unit. The haze was dust and grain in the air. These cars were wrecked. Totally destroyed. Not like Bring a crane and we'll put them back on the tracks, but more like Bring a cutting torch and a flatbed. Grain was spilled everywhere, still spilling in fact. Everything looked so settled. This had really only been a few seconds since the accident, and yet nothing was moving or rolling or swinging or burning. It was all planted there as if some grisly tableau. A film set waiting for special effects and fake-bloodied actors. It was hard to believe, even though we had just experienced it. I was thinking this was last summer, but I guess it was February this year. A friend called who was visiting from BC who'd never hoped, and we talked perfunctorily about someday taking a trip. Now he was showing up and I had to make good on my offer. <br />
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We really didn't care where we went, and started out in Roseville with the idea of going north to Dunsmuir or east and going through the passes. Instead of course, we got impatient and just took a train that stopped in front of the catch-out spot going south. Whatevs. We debated between a few rideable grainers near the back of the train but the weather was a bit chilly and damp and the cars were facing the wrong way and we didn't want to ride dirtyface. So instead we climbed in the rear helper unit at the end of the train. I'd never ridden in a rear unit, though I'd ridden in the back unit at the front of the train. <br />
<br />
This unit was more techno they'd I'd ever seen. Most units look barely improved since the 19th century, all levelers and buttons and gauges. This one had not one but two touchscreen computer monitors giving constant readouts of engine status, speed, limits, position, everything. We were terrified that such a high-tech unit would immediately know we were in it and snitch us out. But we were under way soon and if they knew we were there, no one came (and how could they once we were moving?). After a while, we figured out how to switch off the lights so we could sit in the chairs and watch the world go by.<br />
<br />
And of course it takes us south toward Stockton. Good old Stockton. I've been there as many times as I've been in places I actually like, like Dunsmuir, but never by choice. If my train is going to take a "wrong turn" it's going to dump me in Stockton. I could catch out in Indianapolis going east and a few hours later end up in Stockton. Maybe the name says it all: Stockton. Stock town. The town where stock is sold and unloaded and slaughtered and whatever. This time however it passed through Stockton (whew) and headed down the central valley corridor.<br />
<br />
We lazily lulled in our plush locomotive cab with the occasional Where-The-Fuck-Are-We glance around. Rolling down through the long quiet central valley, we were lulled by the repetitious and monotonous view and insistent rocking, we all fell into a dead sleep. I found a few scant square feet to curl up in uncomfortably and with some weird anxious dreams, lost consciousness. <br />
<br />
Lights! Suddenly awake! What's happening? A red light! A screaming alarm! Where was I? The fuck? On a train, looks like, in a unit. Oh yeah! Shit. I'd been jerked awake. Air brake release? Were we discovered? Was it us? Should we stay here, stay low, hide? There was a bright red light on in the cab and the alarm was still screaming. No I do not think staying here would be a Good Idea. Not at all. Something was going on, and it wasn't us. There was a door in the nose of the cab and I thought this was exactly the time we should use it. We gathered our shit up in seconds and were out the door. And swung down to the ground and walked safely away.<br />
<br />
Insert colorful crash scene here.<br />
<br />
We were stunned and walking around like dumbshits. We realized that somehow minutes after the crash, cops were already on the scene and we'd better make haste to look less conspicuous. We stashed our packs and went around the wreck to take some photos. There was a wheel/axel set sitting on the tracks a 100 feet from anything else, disassociated from its car. Large stretches of the tracks were completely twisted and unusable anytime soon. The rest of the train from the point of the wreck was almost out of sight. I don't doubt that they had a big fast emergency stop too, but the rest of the train still took long enough to stop that we could barely see the severed end of it down the line. Apparently when cars stop by plowing into the earth and tumbling end over end, they don't go as far as the rest of the train that still has its wheels. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4YgsMy03GFBArzpPQwdGEc85g-XFeUwHISrhPZSVRrGR2bxEshtd1NuzMmcqhtZtRqMJX1ldz2GAJvVcvrNEyCEDl8y4g2xCbMUV95lIESLMzqtIQ7hoTYTpx1698lgzOwm3L2UFNyM/s1600/IMG_1267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4YgsMy03GFBArzpPQwdGEc85g-XFeUwHISrhPZSVRrGR2bxEshtd1NuzMmcqhtZtRqMJX1ldz2GAJvVcvrNEyCEDl8y4g2xCbMUV95lIESLMzqtIQ7hoTYTpx1698lgzOwm3L2UFNyM/s320/IMG_1267.JPG" width="250" /></a>We took our photos and then returned for our packs. Clearly no trains were going to be running on this line anytime soon. So we walked a few miles to the loneliest, most humble Amtrak station in America. Our new train took us to Stockton where of course, we hung out for a few days waiting fruitlessly for a train.Wes Modeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13936508359690388713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-45017450656181359982010-07-12T14:07:00.000-07:002010-07-12T14:16:29.428-07:00Tree of Knowledge<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RZ95T-86YObdwuEHXqBDnVem8Y4SoDLrVpeaNp8SIsWYR4NgOxDn8ZwCDVO-omS40MDRPEIC9T5mXQUxAeNWFPNiTlSfEVRDUGB_olWiB4XVaBf3pInnwRYlWAy9yrKeK0YxPNxADNw/s1600/1334491266_03b3a9adda_b.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RZ95T-86YObdwuEHXqBDnVem8Y4SoDLrVpeaNp8SIsWYR4NgOxDn8ZwCDVO-omS40MDRPEIC9T5mXQUxAeNWFPNiTlSfEVRDUGB_olWiB4XVaBf3pInnwRYlWAy9yrKeK0YxPNxADNw/s320/1334491266_03b3a9adda_b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493130001132649602" border="0" /></a>You would carry on for hours, in love with own voice, your lengthy body spread gracefully over several stairs on campus. I sat, a rapt audience, dazzled by the confident magnificence that was you. Several years older, you substitute taught at my high school, but we became cohorts during lazy lunches in college. I was convinced there was no way you could ever see the eighteen year-old me as anything more than a friend.<br /><br />During this phase of shifting awkwardness and obsession with English poets, I wore Edwardian ruffled shirts, punctuated by dour black tights. My primary intent of this fashion force-field was to simultaneously ward of frat boys and attract those of similar romantic fancies and love of Morrissey. I had recently died my hair a deep blue black. After frightening myself several times in the mirror I had it bleached back to dark brown. Any slight misrepresentation of the visual was not something I could weather at this juncture having just crawled out of the dregs of 1980s fashion culture.<br /><br />In the midst of a crisis subsequent to leaving high school, I was having a hard time maintaining friendships and relationships. The harder I would to hold on, the faster they would run away. I wasn't quite sure what I was doing wrong, short of having horns protruding from my forehead that everyone but myself could see. Depression and isolation were my dedicated, yet tedious companions.<br /><br />In the spring of our friendship, I began to formulate a plan. I wanted to know, one, and only one thing from you. Knowledge of this thing I was sure would set me free, thus opening me up to new friendships and a long fabulous life. I planned the day I would broach this subject with you well in advance. <br /><br />You were amusing yourself with your talented wit as we sat in the lunch quad at San Jose State. I finally dove in and got to the punctum of our friendship.<br /><br />With great earnest I asked you, "What's wrong with me?"<br /><br />You looked on in horror at my distraught, yet honest, face and were unable to answer. I never saw you again. You wound up marrying a girl from my high school, two years my junior, of my own namesake.<br /><br />Apparently, asking the question was the answer.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-13331733015827883362010-06-29T13:06:00.000-07:002010-06-29T13:08:03.780-07:00running haikucracked asphalt stewing<br />batches of mulberry wine,<br />side-swiping drunk flies,<br /><br />i run, i run, ai<br />yi yi yi, i run run run<br />on these hot mulled wine sidewalks<br /><br />spicy with brow salt<br />and full body sweat slick and<br />purple spattered legs<br /><br />dreaming of breezes,<br />icy margaritas, and<br />salty salty glassesJulie Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12870986467688583203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-88891366583548649432010-05-26T06:25:00.000-07:002010-05-26T06:35:57.920-07:00escape dreamsI had a long, very vivid dream last night in which I left behind my entire life and everyone in it (I didn't have two teenaged sons in the dream) and went off with a band of people who were like gypsy pirates, the most handsome of which fell in love with me and talked me into joining them. It was a little scary to head off into the unknown, but I had decided to go with them and was headed off on the grand adventure.<br /><br />HA! Escape! And no wonder, having waded through a particularly bad personal shit storm this week.<br /><br />Odd details: lots of black eyeliner and steampunk clothing. There was much jumping up on tables and overrunning of townspeople. In one scene I had to talk a big, frightening, self-appointed bridge guard into letting me cross a bridge, but then I realized he was a simpleton (in the gypsy-pirate vernacular) and I talked him into letting me cross for a few shiny coins worth pennies. The gypsy-pirate guy I fell in love with was stunningly handsome and looked like this guy I had a crush on one time at an ashram I was visiting to do meditation. The ashram inhabitants did a nightly meditation that focused on raising the kundalini (real life here, not dream life) and I came to realize that with this guy in the room, my kundalini energy was getting stuck in my base chakra as sexual energy, which wasn't the point of the whole thing, but hey, I was a free woman and could daydream as well as night dream. I saw the guy recently and his eyes are so stunning that he does take my breath away just bit. In the dream, he was going to take off with some other men in the group for some kind of "raid" or something, but told me that if I went with the rest of the group he would know where to find me. He wouldn't be able to find me again if I stayed where I was in my regular boring life. Hmmm...that detail didn't make a lot of sense when I woke up, or only made sense in a metaphorical way, which sort of blew the whole dream state and brought me kicking and thrashing back into reality. Husband in kitchen grinding coffee beans. Get up. Make lunch. Watch the weather forecast. Go to work. A good life, but obviously I need to shake it up a little.<br /><br />Big sigh.Julie Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12870986467688583203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-14254651860547224482010-04-23T20:43:00.001-07:002010-04-23T20:53:44.228-07:00UVA<span style="font-family:times new roman;">UVA</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Earths wrinkled brown skin</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Swallows rooted Cosecha</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rows of green limbs</span><br /><br /><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272080293_0" style="font-family:times new roman;">Hunch</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> over ripened Uva</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Bodies planted in</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Breathing fields</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Burned by the sun's</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Lengua</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Blistered fingers gather</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Someone eles's food</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Withered brown hands</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Stained with la Tierra</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Parched bellies</span><br /><br /><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272080293_1" style="font-family:times new roman;">Swell</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> with suffocating thirst</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Plants grow Vigorosamente</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Suckling the bloodsweat</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">From Drying </span><span style="cursor: pointer; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;font-family:times new roman;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272080293_2" >Veins</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Dedicated to me </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent;font-family:times new roman;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1272080293_3" >Abuelo</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">; Benjamin Candelaria</span>Raven Wilde Choatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05475483342258333823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-16507478648430536182010-04-20T14:10:00.001-07:002010-04-20T14:13:04.382-07:00The Perfect Snack<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is a </span><a href="http://viewfromtheteahouse.wordpress.com/2008/05/11/the-perfect-snack/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">journal entry</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> written while I was living with my partner in Chengdu, China, the capital of Sichuan province.</span></i><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Tahoma, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; color: rgb(153, 153, 153); line-height: 24px; "><p style="line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Every afternoon, a small bevy of old women gathers on the corner near my building. They crouch or bring tiny stools that lift their thick haunches only a foot off the ground, so they give the impression of being balled up in a permanent squat, like gravity has finally won them over, and they have sunk into round, wobbling spheres of their former selves, like great big squashes rooted to the street. They are of a kind, these ladies, each with the sensible, short-cropped grey haircut of their generation, the mannish chop that implies a great indifference to bourgeois notions of feminine beauty. They wear the same dark-colored pants, the same thick tops and colored jackets and brocade vests, the little uniform of their age. They gather in groups of three or four, sometimes close together, sometimes spread out by a few yards, and they cluck and chatter and laugh in their old-crone voices like a murder of gossipy crows. They scare me the way all powerful women scare me. I adore them. Before each of them rests a pot or two, a barrel-like tub with a lid and a tea towel, and an example of what rests within lain on top, usually a yam, a sweet potato, taro, or corn. In the fall, they have soybeans and boiled peanuts. They cook great piles of the things at home, and then trot them out in the afternoons to sell for a tiny profit. I get the feeling this little bit of free trade also constitutes the bulk of their social day, like playing mahjong or doing taijiquan with other ladies from the neighborhood.</span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">They come out around 3 pm, when students’ lunches have worn off and the stretch before dinnertime starts to feel long. They crouch and they wait, and slowly, the students wander past on their way to and from classes, and they lean over the old ladies’ vats and poke around inside, picking out a warm, starchy snack to tide them over till supper. The women sit there for hours, sometimes caught up in busy trade, sometimes only chatting, talking about I don’t know what, while their tubs dribble steam and their goods become waterlogged and slowly cool to mush.</span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Yesterday, I was really, really hungry. I didn’t feel like walking all the way out to the South Gate to hit the vegetable market, and I wasn’t in the mood to talk with my vegetable lady, anyway. I formed an accidental friendship with one of the vendors in the produce alley, even visiting her in the hospital when she was in a terrible bicycle wreck, but her Sichuanese accent and my weak Chinese often make her enthusiastic chatter more of a trial than a pleasure for me, and our bond makes me feel like visiting another stall would be somehow traitorous. So, sometimes I don’t buy veggies when I need to, more out of mental and social exhaustion than laziness. In any case, our tiny cupboards were effectively bare, and so I trotted out to the corner in my flip-flops and braved the mockery of the crow-ladies with the pots of afternoon snacks.</span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">One immediately pounced: “</span></span></span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Ni mai shenme</span></span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">!” she barked, “What do you want to buy!” It was an order more than a question. She lifted up her lids with hands wrapped in towels. Big clouds of steam flooded my face as I crouched in front of her. She had pale-looking corn floating in one pot, and bruised sweet potatoes with their skins still on in the other. Thinking of dinner later, I asked for two of each. She wrapped the corn in plastic baggies, and shouted a price that I knew was too much. People all around the world seem to labor under the impression that being louder will somehow help a foreigner understand. It doesn’t. I was at least glad she spoke; some vendors here assume I will comprehend nothing, even when I have already addressed them in Chinese, and they proceed to communicate only in esoteric hand gestures and grunts, a practice I find maddening and even more incomprehensible than the Sichuanese dialect. The other ladies clucked and chuckled over the price – it was roughly the equivalent of 50 cents an ear, a price I could live with and didn’t feel up to arguing over. She then picked out a couple of ugly sweet potatoes, “I’ll give you the big ones,” she said. Her face was broad and wrinkly and cracked open with a huge grin as she yelled; she was missing a lot of teeth. I said that big ones would be fine. She then seemed to feel sorry for having overcharged me, and after I paid her, she reached back into her tub and grabbed a pair of fingerlings, quickly stuffing them into a bag and then into my palms. She leaned in close to my face, her leathery squint growing tighter and brighter as she laughed a wheezy, windy laugh: “These are a gift for you,” she said. They smelled like sugar and loam and were warm like living creatures in my hand. She shooed me away as a group of students came by, and I practically ran back to the apartment with my load of boiled goodies.</span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Once I was in my kitchen, I tasted the corn first, as it looked ashen and had obviously been sitting in the water for hours. It was just as I’d expected: starchy and tasteless, like little pops of goo stuck to a cardboard cob. There is no sweet corn in China, as far as I’m aware; everything is seed corn, or the kind they feed to pigs. Both ears went in the trash.</span></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.5em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Then, I pulled out one of my little sweet potato gifts. It was still steaming slightly, the skin on but scrubbed, and the bad bits whittled off, so it had a patchy, mangy look to it along with the bruising and pale russet of the peel. It was soft and broke easily into two pieces in my hands. I dusted it a little with salt, and was immediately overwhelmed: earthy, warm, and dizzyingly sweet. It was magic, a perfect size, a perfect weight, rich and deep in ways that vegetables never get credit for being. It tasted like candy and soup and bread and roots all at once, like the ultimate sustenance. I felt like I could be lost in a forest and dig up only these magical tubers for years and be utterly nourished, like they somehow were all food groups and vitamins rolled into one. I probably drooled. I inhaled one and set the other in the fridge for another day, and happily carved up the big ones for dinner. They were glorious with a little butter and some rice and beans.</span></span></span></p></span></i></div>Lara Messersmith-Glavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05630124888928659314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-80955688392301163862010-04-14T13:29:00.000-07:002010-04-14T13:51:15.439-07:00NOLA 2010NOLA 2010<br /><br />Norleans,<br />thou art more wondrous<br />& dredded than couldve<br />hoped for<br />Your Royal Street<br />jazzy street bands<br />of funkster bohemes<br />in 1920’s Depression Era duds,<br />glory & woe etched upon faces,<br />twitching gyrating washboard percusser,<br />bessie smith on clarinet,<br />squeezeboxes galore,<br />& I am transcended to <br />good clean dirty alice coming out of rehab Wonderland<br />side-slappin toe tapping goodness<br />but might I ask:<br />where are the sad sad songs:<br />5 years after <br />have ye recovered?<br />time to celebrate inebriate <br />blap a doodle doo?<br />Yes, there are idears<br />that sad does not sell<br />nor is in good tastes<br />for visitors from afar<br />in these medicated caffeinated<br />speeded up speedy times.<br />But.........<br /><br />i pass, pass on, further on down this road<br />The Big Ass Beer place on Bourbon<br />and all the excesses,<br />intoxicatingly wonderful horrible excess:<br />ain’t nobody in this town gonna tell ya <br />stop!<br />no, not this town successfully coming out of rehab,<br />a town that know how to<br />party & let be be <br />& <br />EXPLODE!<br /> in angry jealous gunshots & sirens & cops gone wild...<br /><br />& I’m headed homewards now<br />past the projects<br />the everybody hates dem projects projects but me,<br />cuz them folx got some feelin I says,<br />& their kids are happier<br />every time I bike by & listen just for a sec<br />& <br />I’d go there tonight if invited or<br />could get by<br />the<br /> verifiable warnings of gloom & doom waiting to<br /> jump!<br /> me there<br />and steal every last lump of lint in this empty pocket.<br />I’d go there but.<br />if it weren’t so.<br />didn’t look so.<br />if only it<br />was so safe I could parade grandma & the kids there<br />on christmas with all our new gadgets saying,<br />“betcha’ed like some o these?”<br />if only it was soo damn safe<br />& quiet<br />& dead as the suburbs on a Tuesday afternoon, then...<br />I’D NEVER FUKKING GO THERE...<br />and I keep going<br />keep right on going...dfreshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06593910826207613318noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-46034056995500241932010-04-13T13:37:00.000-07:002010-04-13T14:05:26.347-07:00Down the Hatch<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal; font-family:times, serif;font-size:16px;"><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:6;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:19px;"><b></b></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:6;"><b><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Kodiak skippers come in two kinds: gentlemen and screamers.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I only really knew two gentlemen skippers in all my years on boats, and both of them died at sea.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I try not to make anything of that. My skipper was not a gentleman, but he was a very good fisherman.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Kodiak seems to breed this type - something in the water, I guess.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Still - working for a screamer is a hell of a way to grow up.</span></span></span></div></b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"></span></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I was 16.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">It was a pitch-perfect Kodiak day, and we were having our version of “fun.”</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The wind was blowing so hard that the rain moved in horizontal sheets across the deck, pulling jellyfish into raw threads of fire that laced across my cheeks and slid under my gear onto my neck. My legs braced at the knees against the stack with every swell, my arms burning and wet as I strained to hold the purse line tight while, at the same time, batting and heaving the leads into a tidy pile along the starboard side. Saltwater rained onto my cap and hood from the block as it dragged the net from the water directly over my head.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The wind was blowing so hard that a seagull flapped in place a few feet from my shoulder, surging against the current as if tethered by a string; it turned a strange eye in my direction.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I stared back.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The rest of the crew kept their heads down and did their best to be invisible to the skipper.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">To my dad.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“WHAT THE FUCK!!”</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Something had gone typically awry. The boat was probably drifting over the net, releasing fish over the corks. We were full pursing, so we had the purse line on the winch snaking down into the fish hold as we brought in the net from the other side.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Hydraulics are handy, but very dangerous - as my dad was always reminding me, get your glove or raingear caught on that winch, and it’ll snap your whole body in half before it slows down.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I liked the tension of full pursing: it was loud and every line was taut and groaning.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I liked the hum of the hydraulics.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I focused on that sound sometimes, when I wanted to relax.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“HAVE YOU GOT YOUR HEAD SO FAR UP YOUR ASS YOU CAN’T SEE ME?!”</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">My dad was a screamer, and currently, he was screaming at the top of his lungs, waving his arms in what was probably supposed to be a signal to the skiff man, but what looked like what it really was - rage gone silly and incoherent with its own volcanic force. It’s tough to say who endures more abuse - the skiff man or the deck crew.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The skiff man is the easiest to blame when a set gets fucked up.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">On the other hand, she or he also has the benefit of distance, and can drown out the screaming with a little extra throttle.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The deck crew - or, as they were known on my boat, “cretins” -</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">get it in the face and have the pleasure of hearing everything word for word, which sometimes hurts, even if we are just useless swab monkeys with shit for brains.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">My dad picked up a plunger pole just so he could heave it against the deck, then picked it up and heaved it again, apparently dissatisfied with the tinny clank it made against the noise of the winch and the wind and the engine rumble and the sputtering growl of the skiff.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“WHAT THE FLYING FUCKING SHIT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!!”</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">he screamed.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO...”</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">After the screaming came histrionics.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He pulled his long white beard in different directions.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He gestured in agony at the heavens.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He tore off his hat and threw it on the deck, kicking it and then putting it back on his head soaked in saltwater and gurry.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He wind-milled his arms as if he would tear them out of their sockets, and then buried his face in his hands, shaking his head in a wild display of the burdens he bore, working with such imbeciles.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“YOU GET YOUR ASS AROUND THAT CORNER RIGHT FUCKING NOW YOU USELESS SON OF AN ASS-FUCKED WHORE!!”</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">His face was red and puffed out, like a boil ready to burst.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Even his eyeballs turned red when he really went for it. I often wondered if there were a trick to this - maybe something he learned in the Army, an intimidation tactic.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I sort of envied that level of commitment to an art, but I could clearly see the toll it took on one’s body.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I remember thinking that he might have an aneurysm if he weren’t careful.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I could swear there was smoke coming out his ears in symmetrical little white puffs, and an old red steam whistle blowing off the top of his head.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“GOD! FUCKING! DAMN! IT!”</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He went through the different phases of sounds: the bellowing, the yelling, the high-pitched sarcastic pleading, and then finally went mute, jerking and hopping around the deck in a spasmodic, wordless rage.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He began jumping up and down, stamping and kicking and pointing and looking for all the world like Rumpelstiltskin whose name has been guessed, damning the devil until the floor caved in - and then, it did.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Or at least that’s what I thought happened - it all went so quickly.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">In his explosion of anger, my dad had slipped and gone down the hole into which the winch was feeding the purse line; it was only about three feet across, but large enough for my dad’s foot, quickly followed by his other foot, and then the rest of him, to the waist.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He caught himself with his upper arms, bellowed once like an angry bull, and then went strangely silent as the line continued to feed on top of him.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Soon, he was half-buried in lead line, and half-dangling in the hold.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The deckhand on the corks leaped over the stack, stumbling over the gear and mess on deck, and shut off the hydraulics.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The relaxing hum stopped.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">My mother made some wordless noise of panic.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I had a quick thought: “I think he’s dead.”</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">And then I burst out laughing.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">This wasn’t ordinary laughter.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">This wasn’t, “Holy shit - I didn’t see that coming,” laughter.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">This was all-out, gut-busting, pee-your-pants, wheezing, senseless laughter; this laughter hurt my face.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I held onto the purse line and doubled over, my whole body shaking as I went soft in the knees. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t see, I couldn’t help. The deckhand and my mom were struggling to drag my dad out of the hold. He was conscious but confused, giving orders that were impossible to follow, wanting us to save the fish, save him, save whatthefuckever, all at the same time. I felt weak with relief, even as guilt and shock and comedy battled for the upper hand.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I wasn’t relieved that he seemed to be okay.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">At that moment, I had been relieved that he was dead, simply because the screaming stopped. Some moments make no sense.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Somehow, we finished the set.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He seemed to be injured, but it wasn’t clear how.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He limped around the deck, now eager just to get the goddamned net on board with or without the help of his useless crew.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The fish were probably gone - or maybe we caught thousands, I don’t remember - but the important thing was that he was hurt, and we were going to head in to anchor up at Bumble Bay, a nice, quiet, protected spot with glassy flat water and a couple of tenders who might have medical help on board.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">His financial day was ruined, and we were all probably somehow to blame.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">We spent the next three days at anchor, listening to the groans issuing from the stateroom.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He had broken some ribs, but was otherwise fine.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“But I can’t take a goddamned BOWEL MOVEMENT,” he kept saying.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">It seemed funny to me that a man who swore as much as he did couldn’t just say “shit,” instead.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I was still young enough not to be concerned over the money we were losing by being at anchor.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I liked having some time to rest, to read, to talk with the other deckhand, even though he was twice my age and married and had two kids back in what he always called “The Buckeye State,” wherever that was.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">It sounded like somewhere boring, especially if he had to come all the way to Alaska to get his adventure on.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Probably the Midwest - that’s how it usually worked.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The docks were crawling with guys from the Midwest who’d heard from a friend of a friend that you could make hundreds of thousands of dollars on the high seas in Alaska; of course, their information was a decade old, but they still came - many of them never having seen the ocean before, not knowing the difference between a rope and a line, or a humpie from a red.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">We sent them out to the marine supply store for lots of prop wash.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">This guy was okay, though.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He was funny and got along with the skiff man, and he loved my mom’s cooking.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Plus, he could talk about books and ideas and didn’t jerk off in front of me or try to get in my bunk like so many of the others.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Mike was a nice guy.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">In the stateroom, the groaning continued.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Broken ribs hurt.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">My dad finally managed to relocate to the wheelhouse, carrying a piss jug with him so he wouldn’t have to descend to the galley to use the head.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">With my mom bringing him meals, he wouldn’t have to leave the wheelhouse at all until he healed up. “I HAVEN’T HAD A GODDAMNED BOWEL MOVEMENT IN THREE DAYS,” he reminded us as the door closed behind him.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">We all snickered and figured we were in for a little vacation.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">His plan was this: my mom was going to take over the cork stack, because it was light and wouldn’t hurt her back.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I would continue to do the leads, and would keep an eye on the web, as well.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The other deckhand would take my dad’s place working the hydraulics - can’t trust women with controls, you see - and my dad would remain in the wheelhouse, issuing helpful suggestions as needed.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">This seemed like a delightful arrangement. Of course, we were wrong.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">We were at a place called Red River.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">One of the things I’ve always liked about fishing there is there are always so many other boats.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Of course, the competition is fierce, and it sometimes means jogging in line and waiting for turns, but there is a hectic, derby-style quality to the fishing that I found exciting, even when people started shooting at each other or running their skiff into other guys’ nets.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Mostly, I just liked being close to other people, being able to watch other operations in action, and wave to friends on other boats.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">This summer was no exception - it was busy, busy, busy down there.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Boats of every color and size, from the stately limit seiners to the piratical aluminum pisspots were angling for a turn at the river mouth.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The fish were puking up the beach, and there were lots to be had for the lucky, the early-rising, the hard-working, and the crafty among us.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">This kind of situation ignites a special kind of fire in a screaming skipper: the combination of money and competition really seems to bring out their best.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“</span></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">GOD FUCKING DAMMIT LARA, WHAT IN GOD’S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">JEEZUS CHRIST, STEPH - STEPH?</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">STEPH!</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">JUST GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY AND LET HER...OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">MIKE, YOU WORTHLESS IDIOT, WHAT ARE YOU - NO, NO, NO</span></span></span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">!</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">YEAH, PUT THAT....WHY ME, LORD?</span></span></span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">!”</span></span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">There is a handy feature on most fishing boats called a PA, which, of course, involves a handheld mic, which is kept in the wheelhouse so the skipper can issue directives to the crew on deck from the comfort of the captain’s chair.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">These instructions are then amplified several hundred times through speakers mounted on the deck and the bow, so that the volume is sufficient to broadcast the information across the entire fucking fishing grounds. With my mom and me on the stack, Mike at the controls, and the skiff man safely out in the skiff, we now had my father screaming at the top of his lungs through loudspeakers that were booming his stream of consciousness profanity into the air around us, drowning out not only the noises of the gear and the engine and the skiff, but the noises of all the other boats around us, frustrating skippers for a mile in every direction, who could barely get their own screams in edgewise.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“Grab that line!</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">No, the other...”</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“</span></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">DON, YOU SIMPLE SON OF A BITCH!!</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I SAID SLOWLY, SLOWLY</span></span></span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">!!</span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">”</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“Okay, boys, let’s close ‘er up..”</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“</span></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">GET THAT FUCKING LINE UP TO THE BOW - THE BOW - THE POINTY</span></span></span></b><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> END, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!</span></span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">”</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Our fishing operation had become Red River Theater.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">At the very least, it was entertaining.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Other boats actually began gathering around us to witness the spectacle of it all: the highliner reduced to barking orders from the flying bridge; the brow beaten crew desperately trying to do their jobs; the skiff man with headphones covering his ears, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. The fact that it was a so-called “family operation” only added to its charm. Deckhands I knew on other boats were loving every minute of it; they pointed and laughed, they did impersonations of my dad.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">One asshole even got out a video camera to capture the moment.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">At one point, Mike started yelling back, which was cathartic and great fun for the boats close enough to hear, but ill-advised.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">My father’s flare for sarcasm acquired a special viciousness with the pain in his ribs.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“</span></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">OH, IS THAT RIGHT, MIKE?</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I GUESS THAT’S WHY YOU’RE THE ONE RUNNING THIS MULTIMILLION DOLLAR OPERATION.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">SHUT UP AND DO WHAT I TELL YOU, IF YOU DON’T MIND</span></span></span></b><span style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">.”</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The audience loved it.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I, too, enjoyed Mike’s spirit, but told him it really wasn’t worth it.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">As our skiff man of years always taught me, “in one ear, and out the other.”</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I tried to see it more from a creative perspective.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Everyone knows swear words, but not everyone can cuss fluently, and add to it that special something that really makes it injurious filth.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I think of it as a gift that my father has, along with his ability to call turkeys and shoot free throws.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: normal;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Mike ended up having a gift for backtalk.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">We stayed out there with our special version of high-volume hell for about a week, until the run ended, and then limped our way back to the cannery to do some gear work.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">My dad kept telling the story of his broken ribs to anyone who would listen on the radio.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">“I didn’t take a bowel movement for THREE DAYS,” he’d always add.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Other skippers commiserated.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Mike wanted the hell off the boat the second we touched the dock. I was sad to see him go, but I really couldn’t blame him.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Not everyone can handle a screamer.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">He and I got drunk together one night before he left...and then he took our sledge hammer to the speakers on deck.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">And that was fun, too.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 24px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-style: italic; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This is a transcript of a piece I performed at this year's </span><a href="http://www.clatsopcollege.com/fisherpoets/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Fisher Poet's Gathering</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> in Astoria, Oregon, a festival of music and spoken word for individuals (such as myself) who have been involved with or are currently working in the commercial fishing industry. It was written to be read - or screamed - aloud. Prior to the performance, I shared a claw from a bear that my father had killed, just to represent him in a more positive light. In any case, I love my dad. Even if he is a screamer.</span></span></p><div><br /></div></i></span><i></i></div>Lara Messersmith-Glavinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05630124888928659314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-2764153768208952932010-04-09T23:32:00.000-07:002010-04-09T23:35:28.108-07:00Goals: (a short short).I found a map underneath a smooth ocean stone. I tried to keep on the path highlighted by someone else's blood. But then It became to difficult to keep in place, so I ran past the old ladies house with dripping skin. I should just go home.<br /><br />When I grow up I want to live by the ocean and write.Raven Wilde Choatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05475483342258333823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-37869556516272658692010-04-09T14:24:00.000-07:002010-04-09T23:30:01.652-07:00I like limbless Men<div class="snap_preview"> <p>I feel like if they only have one legg, or one arm they are forced to develop an inner spirituality. Really I want to stand next to someone who is not afraid to practice prayer and then take off with only a backpack and a pack of smokes. With no destination in mind. So I searched in the hobble of limbless men, looking for soul, and passion:</p> <p>I want a deeper connection, so I thought to myself as I sipped my pint in a sticky bar, I tell myself “that one legged man over there may be the one”, based on his lacking one leg. I went over to him and tried to kiss him, he must have thought I was deranged. I gave him no warning as I leaned in to kiss his cheek to see if he was magic. No such luck (he was startled to put it gently). well at least I can say my limbless phase of love seeking had a purpose. Which was wanting someone with texture around the person inside. I want the quality of the human shell to mean nothing.</p> <p>Maybe I should try someone with no teeth? Maybe that's who my soulmate is, a toothless man who has developed a fine since of petal worship with that old religion I keep following. If this does not work I might have to find someone with all their teeth and limbs.</p></div>Raven Wilde Choatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05475483342258333823noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-43827239438982149502010-03-10T12:59:00.000-08:002010-03-10T14:09:21.289-08:00introductionBy all outward accounts, I am Julie, female, 48, computer programmer, runner, cook, gardener, with a mortgage, two sons, a long time love, and one ginger cat. By my own reckoning, I am an adventurous soul, an endless possibility in a five foot four jacket, a big bleeding heart so full of emotions and experiences that it sings and breaks and explodes into spasms of joy by turns. Here's how I see it: Lucky me, with my painful experiences, with my outrageous highs and lows. Lucky me to have had my own small self stretched beyond recognition by the numerous and sometimes large people who have moved in and loved me. Lucky me to have laughed till I was doubled over and choking, to have made art, to have lost people, to have gained empathy, to have dropped acid, to have baked bread, to have had a lover paint stars on my ceiling, to have sat in one spot on the side of a mountain for an entire day, to have felt my spirit float out of my body, to have tasted a perfect apple, to have run twenty six point two miles without stopping, to have had some time to think, to have eaten peas and blackberries off the vine, to have been scared witless, to have been drunk on red wine, to have watched comets, to have seen the Mona Lisa, to have swung on a bipolar rope vine between spastic restless energy and perfect peaceful contentment, to have hopped a train, to have been cut, bruised, bleeding and permanently scarred doing crazy shit I love to do, to have sat by a lot of fires and torched a lot of marshmallows and told a lot of stories. Mostly, I have taken a pretty average normal life and imbued it with all kinds of magical and mystical meanings because that makes it more fun and a better story. Lucky me with my magic life and my stories.Julie Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12870986467688583203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-6617479791245882242010-02-24T15:44:00.000-08:002010-02-24T16:00:49.598-08:00MemoryI remember a dark musty house and inside a crowded room there were a couple dozen computers, spray painted in bright colors and designs. It smelled like smoke and aerosol.<br /><br />A bull mastiff muzzled my neck wetly, and I shuddered in my attempt to match the dog's drooly, imposing strength.<br /><br /> When I was with my dad I felt more independent. He would talk about what I called "computer stuff", and I'd go outside and explore our old truck, grown over with giant reeds, parked for the rest of eternity in his longtime friend, Strauss' backyard. I'd pretend my dog and I were trucking along the 5, pulling the rusted stick this way and that, the wheel too decrepid to turn. The seats were vinyl, and sharp where they were torn. When my dad came to get me, I'd ask why the yellow truck was there.<br /> Would he ever take it back?<br /><br /> "No--Probably not." My dad would say.<br /><br /> I followed him back to the house, passing a small workbench covered in computer entrails and spray paint cans. We went inside, and I stared fearful at an old man staring through his glasses at me, his mouth straight with a smoking cigarette stuck in it.<br /> The man would haunt me as I left the dim, smoky house, looking round wide-eyed at the psychadelic blue and green computer shells.alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00715336368936966974noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-6049414004412357372010-02-18T11:02:00.000-08:002010-02-18T11:04:01.292-08:00Life Beneath the Ice With the Meter Readers and the Parking Attendants<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dkeats/3127196827/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3233/3127196827_49e12d982c.jpg" title=""Arctic pack ice floe from the under side" by derekkeats" width="500" /></a></div><br />
My mind is blank. My mind is the great savanah, lying dormant and alive under the teeming herds of zebra and gazelle, beneath the restful pride of lions, the cackling jackals. I am open and watchful. Weary and cautious.<br />
<br />
No. Correction. My mind is the great ice flows that cover the frozen oceans of the epic Northward expanse. Slowly, turgidly grinding under the surface, impossibly dense and viscous. Invisibly full and fertile.<br />
<br />
I've had a drink and sit at a bar on the outskirts of a nearby city and hear a babble of human communication as music, as the racing confusion of a river.<br />
<br />
I look to the door as if I expect to be joined by a friend, but nobody knows I am here. It is a rare and delicate feeling. I bottle it and put it away.<br />
<br />
I resolve to move off the map more often. I don't even believe my own resolution.<br />
<br />
How often do I feel free, that anything's possible? How often do I look at others, look at strangers, and think anything is possible between us?<br />
<br />
I feel lonely and free all at once.<br />
<br />
A suburban street. A city street. A metal garage door painted red. A green plastic trash can leans against it. Right there in this, the entire civilized world is captured. All of its pleasures and pain, all of its problems and comforts. This is the image I keep and put in the top right drawer of the desk to remember. Later I'll pull out this image and wonder, why was this important?Wes Modeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13936508359690388713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-28967685638875061592010-02-13T22:59:00.000-08:002010-04-03T13:02:37.122-07:00Ni Olvido Si Perdon<div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;">“Ni Olvido Si Perdon”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Thanks, Gracias <br />
</span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">from the little notebook I carried with me jotting down our secrets & inspirations,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">from nogales to oaxaca & back again<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">by overland Mexican bus,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">dubbed American action &<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">talking animal movies on board.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For my big bulging army backpack<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">over shoulder walking walking your handmade cobblestoned streets<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">and you still ask me where I’m from<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">wish me well<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">though I am from, born, in the u.s. of A which makes guns to bring you down, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">but jobs to bring you up<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">or grind you down,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">but not really thankfully,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">not really hospitably,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">not really wanting to hear your whole story.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Thanks for feral dogs and children<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">walking the streets, free,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">I walk with them, you, to my next destination.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Thanks for bunk beds and hammocks & hanging beds <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for 5 bucks a night.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For drinking beer in the street,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">at all hours of the day and night & morning;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">even for the truck loaded with oranges,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">announcing for all @ 7 a.m.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">“senores y senoras!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">“eat your oranges! they are good for you!” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">or some such.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias for papayas wrapped in newspapers<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">bought from backs of trucks or<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">from overloaded backbreaking wheelbarrows, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Only 10 pesos each, that’s 75 cents! y <i>dulce.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias.</span></i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For Maria’s cookies, but no peanut butter.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> huge speedbumps that pick-up trucks almost lose their bumpers upon, rattle over;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for the circus in the Mazunte town square,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">fantastically 30 feet high, tethered by straps tied to trees, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">supporting Argentinian trapeeze artists,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">spectators sitting in white plastic chairs collected from local restaurants, loaded into helpful pick-up trucks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For backyard temescal shamans<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">and front porch diners.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Clayudas! Clayudas:<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Large tortillas folded over & <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">stuffed with stringy cheese frijole nopale whatnot.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Mole! Mole:</span></i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> chocolate spicy goodness.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">& Japanese traveller friend Tsutom to share it with & Krishna chants on Mexican naked beach & ping pong @ dive bar with sand floor, warped table.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias por todos!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias for<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Even when I drive the occasional hard bargain,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">though not for sport,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">but necessity.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For <i>pulque</i> in Oaxaca @ corner market-<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">best damn drink I ever had,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">served by the same indigena<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">who also scooped something else<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">from another gourd that <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">had me drunk all afternoon.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Drunk by the old indigenous woman!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">To all the <i>indigena </i>who toil,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">carrying wares on backs & heads to market,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">selling bags of roasted peanuts with garlic, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">toasted crunchy red grasshoppers I shall try once.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Yes, they of/from the Earth who have eyes of love and life<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">etched on their old world faces.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For buses that go everywhere, all the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For people riding standing up in the backs of pick-ups,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">always room for 1 more & their belongings, spilling over & almost out of<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">self same pick-ups.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For the drunks lying in the streets, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">snoozing last night off,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">blind cd sellers on the subway playing their crackling new age metal mariachi etc. music<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">from bulging backpacks;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for grandma on same subway<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">scrunching her nose @ badly sung Creedence covers;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for the blue swine flu masks, masking pandemics;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the maimed guitarist singer<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">singing sad sad songs trying<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">to separate us from our hard earned pesos, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">successfully.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Being hypnotized by warm waves I have never seen nor ridden better<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">&<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">To the grandma who was out in the <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">big surf with the rest of <i>la familia</i>,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">laughing and loving life with the <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">7 year old grandkid,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">all getting pounded together by <i>las ollas grandes</i>,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> with me, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the whole family, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the youngest asking for pointers from me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Thanks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For the young princesses of the beach out <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">selling mom’s lemon cakes by the slice:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> gourmet, cheap.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">We are being catered to like some<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">fancy dancy resort up the coast i cannot afford<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">nor want to attend.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias</span></i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For stringy Oaxacan cheese & fine art Oaxacan paintings, 1 of 2 gay men praying to Virgen of Guadalupe in bedroom by neatly made bed, matching green pillows;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For Oaxaca Banana Magic Hostels,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">a Tom Waitsish fantastical gritty hip loser winner hostel where dreams could find intoxication,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Basque roomies,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">drunken yet hip proprietors;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">cool Oaxacan graffiti:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">“ni olvidos ni perdon!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">“Never forget nor forgive!”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">(October 2, 1968, day of Mexico City Olympic protestor murders.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">!viva APPO!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Todos! Todos! Todos!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></div><div><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Mexico City!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> Mazunte!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> Patzcuaro!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> Guadalalajara!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Oaxaca!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Zacatecas!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="right" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Chihuahua!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For paying when you get there, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">when you are done eating.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">something called trust.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Not giving a fuck, but caring.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for fantastical circuses in town squares, again.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for Irish hospitality in Mexico City,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for breaking all the rules that don’t exist,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for commandos doing their silly dangerous<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">daytime @ the beach routine,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">guns drawn, fingers poised on shiny American machine guns.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for the fish boats that crash! to shore<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">on same beaches<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="right" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">on rollers made of tree branches,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="right" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">bringing boatloads of fish, sharks, swordfish<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">that people gawk at, poke, buy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias</span></i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">For true believers<o:p></o:p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">parading the streets on <i>posada</i>,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">ceremonially seeking shelter,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> as I do literally, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">in their land,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">as jesus joseph & mary did,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">a stranger in their midst.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">they do know jesus!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">this is the christmas spirit I hoped to find<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">outside american shopping malls<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">& holiday rush hour traffic.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Yes, & to all the Virgins & their outlandish outfits: Soledad, Guadalupe, etc.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the days in their honor,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the fireworks & 13 piece bands celebrating<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">their piousness, devotion, sacrifice;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">The images of Jesus miraculously appearing on tunics, billboards, etc.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Miracles large and small everywhere,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">everyone waiting for the miraculous,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">fishing fortunes from Gold sparkly guy’s<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">“Tu Destino”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">gold sparkly shoebox <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">in mexico city zocalo<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">for a peso or <i>tres</i>,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">hoping for a gold sparkly future.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">And for the saints, all the saints<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">helping me on my way in polished beautiful stone churches,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">discovering that my saint is Jude:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">patron saint of hopeless causes,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">displacing/joining my former St. Dymphna,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">she of the wandering and insane.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">All the virgins!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">All the Saints!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">All the Churches, sidewalks, streets<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">made of stone<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">made by hand<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">made with love<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">scrubbed daily,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">cleansing my thoughts as I sit there catholically<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">early each and every morning, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">almost each and every morning,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">waiting imploring God to come in to <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">our believing hearts,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">women crawling on knees,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">only knees,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">using no arms,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">to this same altar we lay our dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> Waiting, hoping-<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the same word in spanish:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> <i>esperar</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">The unpronounceable favorite places:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Tlaquepaque, Chapultepec, the city next to ours on the oaxaca coast I never made it to, etc. etc.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias. Gracias. Gracias.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">to The yipping dogs,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> piles of garbage,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the shitty norteno or ranchero or some such whatever it is called music playing<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> Always! Always! Always! Always!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">The laundry lines,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the holes in sidewalks you could fall into and never climb out of: <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Big holes, by big curbs, this obstacle course called a Sidewalk. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">&<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">to squeaky clean bus stations,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">public restrooms for 3 pesos:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">you can throw the complimentary shit rag<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">in the garbage, thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">The scrapes on Mexican women’s cars,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the patched together clothing,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">The old men and young boys trudging wheelbarrows filled with ________.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">to being the only gringo on the boat to<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the island near Patzcuaro,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the only one wearing glasses.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the only one.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Now, this sleepless night filled<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">with the <i>thumpa thumpa thumpa thumpa </i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">of rave music that refuses to go away<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">nor be beaten down<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">by cranky neighbors nor armed thugs<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> that do not complain<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> never <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">about this </span><b><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 16pt;">noise noise noise noise<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">1 2 3 4!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Uno dos tres cuatro!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">The masked military boarding buses, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">roaming beaches, accosting tourists,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> me, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">hoping we carry <i>mota</i> & bribes on dark streets, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">they: guns drawn, fingers poised, faces masked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">No thanks, thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">The imagined murderous uncovered swine flu hackings on <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">buses and subways. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">The loogies on the sidewalks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Did I mention the parting shots of<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">my own bout of Venga de Moctezuma in Zacatecas,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">me thinking it a bout of anxiety<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">about leaving your fair land<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">until my belches tasted of sulfur?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> &<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">of course <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Mexico City subway rush hour pickpocket stealing away my hopes to extend my vacation, on credit?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias, no gracias.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Yes & to sensationalist pictures of <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">assassinated bodies & busty gals<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">on <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">covers of newspapers & magazines<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">at news stands,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">while the real news goes unwritten,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">but everybody knows whats what<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">through that ancient forgotten medium: mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Si Si, did I mention the international tourists @<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">small beach towns &<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">I can still afford to eat<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">& live here &<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">go out @ night & forget why I came?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Now i did.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">& Heading to Northward, to the pointy Chihuahua boots,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">rico Sauvé hats,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">and yes the bus driver<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">sleeping under the bus in<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">the luggage compartment,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">as the other driver makes passes on windy vomitting mountain roads, blind corners, lights off to see oncoming traffic.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias, </span></i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">even if you did almost kill me<i>.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">1,2,3,4!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">More More More More<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Uno dos tres cuatro!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Thumpa Thumpa Thumpa Thumpa!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Again 2 3 4!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Again 2 3 4!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Insert sounds of ranchero music, dogs, etc etc here.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">That slowly makes one social or insane,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">but never raising one’s voice<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">in protest,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">unless collective, in unison<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">against government armies stealing your freedom<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">and money and pretty much whatever they want because they have guns and you don’t/can’t.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">All together now:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">One two three four!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Uno dos tres cuatro!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Noise noise noise noise!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Noise noise noise noise!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias</span></i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Gracias.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">That this trip is sadly over &<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">I return to Here/U.S. of A.,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> a better man for my (mis)adventures to mex, <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">back to u.s.: <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 14pt;">·</span><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">cleanest bathrooms this side of Heaven! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 14pt;">·</span><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">New Starts<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 14pt;">·</span><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> fairy tale endings<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 14pt;">·</span><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">immigrants<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 14pt;">·</span><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">large impossible dreams<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 14pt;">·</span><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">California wilderness<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 14pt;">·</span><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> California amigos<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 14pt;">·</span><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Home?;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">Returning:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> a little more Mexican,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">a little more humble,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"> to the Mexico of small difficult dreams made by hand <i>con carino</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">I shall not forget thee,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">nay,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">but shall forgive,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">if you me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">One last time,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">one for the road:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "; font-size: 14pt;">gracias.</span><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div><o:p> </o:p></div>dfreshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06593910826207613318noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-45183549020280096092010-01-22T11:44:00.000-08:002010-01-22T11:47:23.855-08:00in a hundred words, it's all okThere are some moments when everything is ok, and I am perfectly bouyant in my private sea. I float while curled like a question mark into the warm body of my husband, under our pile of down comforters, under our cat, under our star-painted ceiling, under a low, cold sky of January gray, and everything is ok. We were marriage hold-outs for more than a decade--non-believers, non-joiners, damaged, skeptics. And then we did it anyway, in our garden on the day of an epic flood, with the friends and family who could still get there sweating profusely through their nice clothes on the hottest early June day anyone could remember. We had no definitive answer when people asked, "Why now?" He burrows into me, into my happy floating self, a year and a half later on this January night, and says, "I find such comfort in being married to you."Julie Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12870986467688583203noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-76197972355015491182010-01-21T21:00:00.000-08:002010-01-21T21:11:51.091-08:00Water, waterTwenty or so minutes into sleep the shaking began. A little earthquake in my body, like the vibrating of a serpent snaking it's way down my spine. I awoke confused, amnesic. Almost immediately after falling into slumber once again, another round of shaking engulfed me and then, the unmistakable sound, smell and sight of rushing water. I awoke again confused. Soon after I slipped back into sleep to repeat the experience twice more, both times ending in the sensation of rushing water. Quieting my psychic barometer, I surrendered to a deeper less antagonistic sleep. In the morning, the rains began. Water, water everywhere.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-298501602951875222.post-89553798008743289822010-01-21T18:34:00.000-08:002010-01-21T18:36:57.463-08:00psych wardHer eyes were red and puffy as she explained. I stared into them, a rare demonstration of intimacy on her part allowing me the tears welling up in her eyes and rolling down her nose. In that second she became a young child, no longer the tired woman dressed in suicide-watch-blue hospital scrubs watching shitty movies in the common room until late at night. Eyes fixed on the television screen and her knees bent up to her chin. An old soul with old secrets she kept to herself.<br /><br />"I could never do that to anyone," the old child said.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07143925443054586269noreply@blogger.com0