This Past Week

Lately its been tough finding time and material to write. I moved into a brand new place and got my junior year ready to go. I've also been developing strange homosexual crushes on my film professors. (Any attention they give me makes me melt.) I decided to do everyone a favor and catch you up on the news this week. Not the headlines, though. Mostly the small bits you may have overlooked. 

Fidel Castro went on the record this week saying he backs the actions of the Cuban athlete who kicked an official after a disqualification during a tae kwon doe match at the olympics. I myself back the actions of Michael Phelps' 10,000-12,000 calorie a day diet. Looking at the way most Americans eat, I think we all back it. 

A nine year old kid was banned from pitching in his youth league for being "too good." He throws at 40 mph and none of the other kids can hit off him. Other teams were forfeiting games this kids started. Coach: "Don't bother, kids. You can't beat him. Let's just eat the post-game donuts and go home."

The town of Hoschton, GA is trying to break the world record for most scarecrows in one location. Their goal is about 4000. There most have been a lot of downsizing lately. 

A 21 year old mother of two survived five whole days in a car after she crashed it. Plan a better suicide next time.

Lesbian activist Del Martin died at age 87 months after marrying her partner. No joke added here. 

We all that Obama is accepting the Democratic nomination tonight as I write this. I keep thinking about that word that begins "assass" but I dare not speak it out of fear that by saying I will have killed him. Doesn't help my nerves that they keep comparing him and the event to JFK. 

Architect/Demolitionist

Now it seems all along I was always the bad man.

An architect and a demolitionist

found foundation to build on

just so they could destroy it.

They're in business together.

One in the same.

The architect shows up with smiles and hugs.

He shows his design and

sells a young woman a dream to come true.

Over a glass of champaign,

the buyer celebrates the dwelling

she now has to live with.

Once settled in,

the walls start tumbling down.

The material used was flimsy.

Leaky ceilings and stained floors.

Then she's begging for someone to obliterate the mess.

In comes the demolitionist

with wrecking ball and dynamite.

With nothing but apathy

he dismantles the once happy home.

She weeps sadly on a stoop.

They seek out a new client.

Dreamscape

I walk out to climb the trees at dark. I listen to them sway. I taste their bark. Despite the weather, they stick together. They watch each other live and die. They're silently kind but I still act shy. I take a place in the tallest one. I thank the tree and wait for the sun. I think about the future and the before. I think about the ghosts that keep knocking on my door. I don't want to see them. I want to dream them away.  I can no longer help them. There's nothing else for me to say because I'm no longer sorry. I want them to decay. They lay down and cry on the bathroom tile. Tearless eyes with upside down smiles. They cry for the home land but you can't make a movement without taking a stand. The night is always darkest before dawn. The record isn't over until you've heard the last song. 

Up in the branch, I slip into a dream about twilight in August and banshee screams. Coming through the twilight is a yeti with teeth like razors and long fur like spaghetti. Maybe it won't see me if I get real still but I stick out like a plane crashing into a hill. It scoops me up with one single fist. It exhales in streams of mist. I recount the moments that led up to this. I came to the forest to clear my head. To forget about the friendships I had left for dead. I didn't want to pick out caskets or attend the wake. I wanted to celebrate and eat birthday cake. I didn't feel grief. I didn't feel guilt. I didn't feel attached to anything I built. In its claw, the yeti pulls me closer to its jaw. I see the ghosts waving because I must not be worth saving.

Now awake, back in the tree. The ghosts are no longer looking for me. They walk to the horizon with backs turned. All the old bridges have been burned. I ponder the lesson I've learned. Not until the sun has risen do I realize that the worst can be forgiven because good people do bad things and bad people do good things. You just have to get it right before your swan sings. I climb down from the tree and thank it for its safety. For cradling me in its arms like I was its baby. I pick up the pace to catch up with the ghosts but they've disappeared once I've cleared the forest and reach the coast. Maybe they've gone to Avalon. When you expect the worst, anything else feels like the best.