Str8 Up Drizzling

Hello Hindenburg, 

I suppose I haven't treated you that well lately. It must have been a long lonesome time for you and that's not even taking your cirrhosis into account. I didn't want to leave you this summer. I would have taken you with me if I could. I met a nine-year-old boy that fits right in with your perspective on shit. His name is Max, he wears transition lenses and has a blog if there is any justice in this rotten world. 

Sorry Hindy, but the narrative eludes me. I can only speak in bits tonight. I'll try to write you, my blog, a letter but I just gotta let it do what it wants to tonight.  You'll have to get your Gary Glitter analysis elsewhere. 

http://www.theonion.com/content/statshot/known_gary_glitter_aliases

Today I was feeling good. Life nipped at my nostrils offering the most tantalizing scents. I was so happy to be alive... I suppose that's natural. Ok. Why was today's special feeling such an especially special feeling... I was quite happy to fail today. I looked one of my heroes in the eyes, a man I admire and wish to emulate in my end all be all dreams. There I was, a cog in his grandiose give back, but I couldn't say a thing. 

I wasn't afraid. I was confused about what a millionaire would do with that much oatmeal. 

There might be a thing as too much free time. Yeah sure I'd like to write and toil for that goal but certainly not in such a warm room. If I knew about the temperature beforehand I would temper my ambition a percentage for each degree it was over eighty. I think it's reasonable. Depending on the day it'd only be a 6-10% downgrade (and that's only in the afternoon). 

When I encounter Older Males more than once I instantly want to become their friend. The local (I don't think there is a word for what he is. He sits in the back room of a dusty old corner store. He probably lives there. There is sometimes a wife and today there was a baby. He emerges from the back when I arrive, taking on a think American accent. I buy a Coca-Cola. He opens the bottle cap for me, taking great care to put it back on the coke) clerk is a good example. I would very much like it if he would come over, slather himself in shaving cream and scream "I AM CAESAR" before stabbing me in the leg with a pencil. 

I wouldn't like it at the moment, extracting graphite from my leg, but boy wouldn't that be a tale to tell at fifty. 

Life gets funny in a grips of a semester. I was thinking back to high school when we all made movies and didn't know how to have good sex. Nostalgia comes rose-colored. In my mind we're hard working creative creatures. Yeah, maybe we've changed but a key and wonderful thing of that accomplishment (and youth in general) is that you share a schedule with everyone you know. No one has much to do on Afternoons, no one has classes until 11:30, most importantly no one has a job that makes them value money over friendship.  A wealth of free time and a place to go... that's the back bone of so many dreams isn't it. 

I am currently interning at a place that tries to teach kids how much fun studying, hard work, and writing is. I don't think my mother could have come up with a better fit for me (although she's probably tried). I will inevitably complain about my utopia of the moment but I won't really be complaining, just giving the recount of my day a little bit of color. 

Today was one of my best days in a while but one of the least fun in terms of activities. Today was spent turning my duties into thrills. After having trouble with 5th grade math I had to go home. No one would be home or around when I got back so instead of taking the bus home I decided to run the 5 miles back. While the entire distance eluded me I managed to make it to Washington. Along my way as I got covered in sweat and called a "terrorist" not a single bus passed me on my trek back along the bus route. Such anger would've taken me if I were stuck waiting for the bus for thirty minutes. Great joy found me because I ran in slacks. The slacks deserve two-thirds of the credit. 

I couldn't run anymore. If I were to take another step I was certain diarrhea would explode from my bowels. I stopped running. One biological need quieted and another rose up: I was famished. This wasn't any ordinary hunger. A thunder rose from my gut, imploring me to eat like a man. The butcher gave me his thickest steak and called me "Amigo". I paid for my steak and remembered Nick's wish that everyone had the same butcher for their entire lives. 

 Arriving at my crayon colored abode the doors were locked and my keys were inside. A beacon bore into the crystalline dark of night from Appu's window, but nary a soul was around to control the beam or open the fucking door. [Author's Note: I really like that sentence.] In past situations of similar ilk I've broken windows or pouted on the porch. With my heart free and fluttery, I grilled the steak and ate it with my hands. 

I felt like I might have changed forever. I gnawed at my over cooked steak when Appu opened the door. I thought about staying outside and eating alone in the dark. I didn't. I went inside and we watched the show "Bones" together. The Dog Whisperer guest starred. 

Stories are every where. Amazing happens when we don't even realize it. David Boreanez isn't playing a vampire anywhere. So much is fascinating and hopeful that I'm becoming eager to see what this string of tomorrows will bring. Oh the very thought of it! 

Oh Hindy! I've been ignoring you. I came to this blog with an anecdote I wanted to share with you. I got so caught up in your process that I didn't bother. Rest assured you will forever live in my heart.