Saturday, May 04, 2002

Dream commentary

In many of the dreams that I feel content and happy are those that I receive a hug. Not the ordinary friendly hugs, family hugs, or the type that people engage in during celebratory occasions, but the type that I may find release from my tensions and trappings. The hug, there must be some more suitable utterance than this monosyllable three letter variety. To press tightly about the arms and neck, to squeeze so hard that one may feel its presence long after the act. This word and act is pregnant with my salvation and the giver my savior.

I remember my little Shanna bird. In her hugs I felt love, I felt loved. She would scamper towards me with love in her eyes and wrap her arms so tight about my neck that it was physically impossible for our hearts to be any closer though they melted thru our skins and into each other. She lingers there still. I miss that little bird.

In a liquid prison

I had a dream last night. I was trapped in my grade school by a swarm of black locusts. While they slept in one classroom I could walk about the school without upsetting them, but if I were to cross the street a proximity alarm would sound and the swarm would become riled up and transform into this black muck - almost like a black oil-like liquid. They would chase me and envelop me in their liquid prison and I too would become a part of their collective black mire. Once I was trapped they would travel back to the school and I would become my regular self and the swarm would go back to sleep.

I cannot recall how but one time I tried running away and crossed the street without the proximity alarm going off. I ran into this strange diner where on one side of the establishment there were your regular diners sitting at their tables eating their meals and on the other side of the diner was the register and behind the counter was a showcase of rifles for sale. The gun store/diner employee that manned the register was awfully crazy and temperamental. For some reason I got my jollies off of making fun of him, but instead of harming me he took one of his rifles and shot a patron in the head who was sitting at a table eating his meal.

I walked out after this encounter with this girl who was very pretty with short curly brown hair. She gave me a big hug outside of the store. She was with some other guy and at this point I noticed that all three of us were filthy, dirty, and disheveled. It would seem that the three of us were transients. As she gave me a hug she whispered in my ear that she was pregnant and I could feel that she indeed had a slight paunch in her belly. We walked off towards a movie theatre and tried sneaking our way in by this secret underground passage known by the third transient male. All that I can remember is that I was content.

Friday, May 03, 2002

I am first (runner-up)

If there were a contest that awarded people based on their performance of the righteous and modest act of allowing others to barely outperform them on a consistent basis - in other words a prize for people who are no stranger to always being the runner-up in any contest they compete in - I would most definitely receive the prize for first runner-up.

I played in a marathon six and a half hour wiffleball tournament held yesterday at the old Bear Down Gym on campus. My team came in second place. We definitely had the most power, hitting homerun after homerun throughout the tournament, but we came up short against the powerful pitching of the championship team.

I am definitely no stranger to second place. I remember a long time ago I almost came in first place. My grade school had a chess tournament every trimester. I came in second place the previous two tournaments to the invincible Mendel. In casual play Mendel and I would be even, winning and losing the same amount, but in the tournament I would lose to him in the championship game. The last tournament I played in I faced Mendel in the semifinals and won. In the championship I played a rising prodigy named David and summarily defeated him very easily. So stunning was my showcase of tactics, David folded quickly and accepted forfeit. My on-looking teacher claimed my victory was too easy and that David can't possibly forfeit with so many pieces left on the board. She quickly called on Mendel who was lost in chess thought in a dark corner of the classroom ruminating on my victory over him and planning his revenge. He looked up from his chess board and was told by my teacher that he would play me for the championship. Of course I lost.

The closest I ever felt like being on top was the one little-league baseball game that my dad showed up to. My team was in second place and we were playing the first place team in the division. I had the best game ever, posting an at-bat record of 6 for 6. Every time I came up to bat the bases were loaded and I would quickly empty them attaining somewhere between 12-15 runs batted in. I was acclaimed a hero by my teamates and the vast crowd that had formed to watch the showdown between the two top teams. My team ended up second place to the same team by the end of the season.

Wednesday, May 01, 2002

I can read minds

I had this dream two nights ago where I could read people's minds. I was confined to some compound with all these other kids varying in age. I could only read the minds of a select few - the phonies, people who say and do one thing but mean another. In this dream these phonies wanted to do me harm by trying to set me up. The leaders in charge of this camp saw me as a threat somehow by my direct attitude, no phony am I, and of course were jealous of my dashing good looks. One incident was when this girl who was in cahoots with these leaders tried to volunteer me to be in charge of this concession stand where it would be arranged that I would be blamed for theft of the concession stands profits. She could not fool me because I read her mind and told her to blow off. Another incident was when the leaders tried to set me up and blame me for sabotaging this room of refrigerators where we kept our food supply. Of course, I could read their minds and outsmarted them by not showing up when they were expecting me. Finally, they stopped their deceiving ways of trying to set me up and in more direct fashion unleashed their dog on me who ripped me to shreds.

Tuesday, April 30, 2002

Hold your head up high, you filthy whore

Lost the championship game 15-8. Every time I came up to bat nobody was on base when I kept getting hits. The one time someone was on I hit a behemoth homerun straight center towards the soccer field. I don't really care. I was not expecting to win against Omar's team. It was real close until they pulled away in the sixth inning.

Monday, April 29, 2002

There can be only one

It is the semifinal game. The score is tied 12-12. Bottom half of the inning. Two outs. Men on second and third. I come up to bat. I swing a massive homerun cut (only a practice swing before I step up to the plate). The outfielders back up. I point to the outfield for five long seconds. They start backing up even more. I stare at the shortstop. Our eyes lock and he backs up as well. I knock out a weak hit when everyone was expecting a mammoth rip. We win. The universe owed me that one.

On the opposite field the same scenario is being played out. Two outs, men on, bottom half of the last inning, and Omar wins the game. Omar is a friend of mine and was the team captain of our men's team and works with me at the rec center. He's a real good guy, but one of us has to lose tomorrow. They had asked me to play on their team but the team I am on now asked me first. It feels weird to have both teams playing for the championship. It sucks that one of us has to lose.

Already Omar and I are trying to figure out who to invite on our summer league team. It won't be so bad if we lose tomorrow. At least one of us will get the championship.

Sunday, April 28, 2002

I am being set up

I have seen this before. All the clues are there. It is the same pattern as before and yet I must play my part. Am I not a professional actor? Tonight my co-ed softball team just won our quarterfinals game and tomorrow we play in the semis. I did not expect our co-ed team to get this far. I expected my men's team to win the championship. I am getting a little excited. But I am being set up I tell you. Maybe we will win tomorrow in order for me to get really excited for a big letdown in the championship game.

Every time, I get so close and then a tsunami of a wave comes crashing down on my sandcastle. And in the ensuing ebb of that tidal wave I will find that my teeth have been knocked out and my wallet stolen. Hey did you see that? That tsunami just knocked out my teeth and mugged me! Anybody? Anybody see that?

One memory permanently branded on my conscious mind: Men on second and third. Two outs. Bottom half of the last inning. The score is 3-2. We are on the losing side. It is the division championship game. Awaiting the winners are trophies as big as giant sandcastles - at least three feet high. Sparkling, incandescent in the lights of the little league snack bar, having the chance to preview them before the game as I bought my customary pieces of gum for good luck. On the mound is the best pitcher in the division (my teammate and I were considered to be in the top three along with this guy who would later play for the Arizona Wildcats). I am thirteen years old. I come up to bat. One hit wins the game. Three pitches. Three swings. Three strikes. Three outs. Game over.

Oh I have many stories that I can pull out of my Santa bag. Don't be fooled by the merry old geezer and his velvet red bag. There be doom in there. Doom I say. Don't open it! I must, I must open it. I must see what's inside. Holy crap. It's my penis! Since I am reminiscing, let me tell you of one special Christmas when I was 10 years old and my brother is home from college. We did not have a tree with presents underneath being poor, but we always had stockings hung up. I am the first to climb out of bed, eager to see what little presents I have been left. I can see each stocking, each embroidered with our names, and each filled to overflowing with little trinkets and toys. My brother's, my sisters, and then there is mine - it would seem my stocking ate my presents, for there are none to be had. I go straight back to bed and have hated Christmas ever since.

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, I am being set up. But I must play my part. I must hang up my stocking hoping that this time I just may get something. I just may win. For once in my life I just may win.

Want to climb a tree?

I have not used it in a while but I know I will. I am referring to the pick-up line. Every guy and girl should have one. I know one future night when I have imbibed too much firewater I will try a couple of my surefire lines to surreptitiously imply ... something - I'm not sure what. What would I be implying? That I would like to engage in sexual congress with you? We just met. Maybe we can exchange numbers?

My top five pick-up lines:
1) Want to go climb a tree. (Aww)
2) Want to play on my wiffleball team. (Sure that might be fun)
3) My cat's name is Frisky Whiskers. (Weirdo)
4) Your eyes sparkle like hot embers that flitter and fall from the flames of the pits of Hell. (So close)
5) I have a penis with your name written all over it. (Slap!)