Ultimate Sledding

Christmas is a time for:
family, friends, snow, remembering Jesus Christ, and riding a canoe down a snow covered slope.

Growth

He huddled alone in the sweat tent . The ceremony was coming to a close. Memories of a good life flowed before his closed eyes. From a very young age he knew this day would come. He was leaving the life of a boy behind, hopefully, if he survived, he'd become a man. One of the village elders entered the small tent. The Elder squatted nearby studying the boys face. When the Elder was satisfied he said, "it's time". Startled from his meditation, the boy opened his eyes. The Elder stood and walked out of the tent. Taking a deep breath the boy stepped out of the tent into the bright light. The whole village was waiting. They stood around the hut whispering in clusters. Just ahead on the path the Elder waited patiently. With a wave of his arm he beckoned the boy to continue down the path. He tried to act stoic as he marched through the village. As he passed a group of girls they began giggling, his face turned bright red. He followed the path out of the village and into the woods. At first it stayed level, but eventually the path grew steeper. After a while the boy found himself at the top of a cliff. He stood on the edge, and looked down. Far below was village he had left, along with his childhood. The cliff was covered in jagged cold rocks. This was his final step to becoming a man. With a grin he stepped off the cliff.

The air flew passed his face, whispering of an end. Suddenly a falcon swooped in to land on his back. It dug it's claws into his flesh. A large chunk of his back tore free. The boy cried out in pain. Then another bird appeared. Again it latched onto his back, and again it tore off a piece of flesh. Bird after bird swooped in, and tore a piece of flesh from the falling boy.

The villagers stood at the base of the cliff waiting to see if the boy had failed in his preparation. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes passed by. There was no sign of the boy. With a loud cough the village Elder drew the attention of the villagers away from the cliff. He was standing outside the sweat tent once more. He reached towards it and pulled up the flap. Hundreds of birds burst from the tent. Inside they found the body of an unconscious man.

Freedom-exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.

Lately I've found myself becoming more and more frustrated. I feel restrained. My problem is not so much needing to realize that I am stuck. My problem is trying to escape the box. If I was a magician my magic went terrible awry. It is a feeling of being stuck in a small, dark box, just large enough to fit, but every corner is filled with my fleshy body. The oxygen is running out, and I can't escape. I plan and plan, but buying a motorcycle and riding it to Mexico would only give me temporary freedom. Eventually I would find myself in an even smaller box. I've thought of transversing the globe on my own two feet, but it would be lonely. I'm afraid this magician has lost his magic. Sometimes I feel like the only thing I can do is take a deep breath....... and let it out. Maybe if I am patient for a long enough period of time, breathing slowly..........I'll eventually find my magic again.

Bread for Jose

In a world of dreams people never sleep. There is no need. Magic runs rampant throughout the world, glittering like fresh snow at the dawn of day. Angels sing, and dinosaurs roar. Cowboys sing songs and tell stories next to bonfires. In a world of dreams, eagles cry and mice don't die. Unfortunately for Jose he didn't live in a world of dreams. Instead poor Jose lived in a dreary world. A world where money ruled and the poor went hungry. Jose was one of the poor. If you pause for a moment, listening to the silence seep, you can hear the gurgle of Jose's tummy.
"Oh, Jose," it cries. "I want some bread! I want some bread to fill me up".
Jose then replies, "I'm sorry my stomach. I have no bread to feed you today. Maybe tomorrow I will have bread to feed you". This was the story of Jose, his stomach complaining and his reply. One day while Jose lay on the side of a dirt road, a large man, waddled towards him.
"Boy, come help me with my groceries," ordered the man. "I need to buy my food and my servant boy is sick today. If you help I will give you a small loaf of bread".
It was a miracle. "Stomach, today I will fill you up with bread," Jose whispered.
Jose followed the large man down the dusty street to the store. Then he followed the man through the store grabbing the groceries the man wanted. The large man bought a lot of food. He bought olives, steak, chicken, bacon, fruits of every kind, he even bought a bar of chocolate. The one thing the man didn't buy was bread. After the man paid for his groceries Jose hauled them across town to the large mans house.
"Boy," said the man. "put those groceries away and then leave". Jose took the groceries to the kitchen and put the food away. Then he went back to the large man and asked, "sir you said you would give me some bread for my services". The large man laughed a deep, mocking laugh. "Boy" he said, "you are a fool. I have no bread for you". Jose left the large mans house and went back to his street.
"Stomach", said Jose "That large man is a liar, he gave me no bread to fill you up with".
"Jose, I was told I would have bread today, but I had no bread. I am even hungrier than before," his stomach moaned.
"I am sorry stomach, maybe I'll find you bread tomorrow" said Jose.
The next day Jose was sitting on the same street when the large man came by again. "Boy" he said, "I need more groceries today. Come carry them for me".
So Jose, trusting the large man, carried his groceries. And again the large man laughed at Jose when he asked for some bread. Every day for a week the large man would tell Jose to carry his groceries, and every day he laughed at Jose.
At the end of the week Jose was waiting for the large man to come ask him to carry the groceries, but the man never came. Instead a skinny man in a fancy suit walked down the street. The man walked up to Jose and asked, "are you Jose the grocery boy?"
"My name is Jose", he replied.
"Well I need you to carry my groceries for me", the skinny man said.
Standing up Jose followed the man to the grocery store. The skinny man bought many, many groceries. He bought everything the large man would buy, but he bought much more. He even bought bread. As they left the store the skinny man turned to Jose and said, " The large man is my brother, he is mean and a liar. He told me how he makes you carry his groceries every day without giving you bread. These groceries are for you. I apologize for my brother. He will no longer ask you to carry his groceries". The skinny man walked away, leaving Jose with many, many groceries.
"Stomach" Jose said. "Today I will fill you up with bread".

The Wifery

The wind blew the autumn leaves around and around. A man walked alone among this concert of excitement and loss. With each step his shoes would scuff the cold cement. He walked up to one of the many doors lining the street, pulled out a key and unlocked the door. With a heavy sigh he walked into the cold dark house. Too tired to make dinner, the man found himself slumped on the couch staring blankly at the television. He was remembering.

"It's time", he said to his friend.
"Time for what?" his friend replied.
"I'm going to get a wife," he said.
After a minute of sitting in awkward silence his friend asked," where will you get her from?"
"I've looked into three stores, wife patch, soul match, and wife in a basket. I've decided to try wife in a basket. They seem to have slightly better quality than the other two," he replied.

The front of the store was clean and neat. Above the entrance a large yellow sign with swirling red letters read, "Welcome to wife in a basket, come on in and get a wife". Choking down his anxiety the man pushed open the door. Responding to the door a little pudgy man popped up from behind the cash register.
"What can I help you with today?" the storekeeper asked.
"I'm looking for a wife," he replied.
"Well you came to the right store; all we sell here are wives and wives aplenty. What is your preference?" the store keeper asked.
With a look of confusion the man replied, "I'm not sure, this is my first time getting a wife".
"If you just walk this way then, I'll show you our wonderful selection of wifery," said the storekeeper.
The man followed the storekeeper trying not to be overwhelmed by the gawking women. He was about to give up when he saw her. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Only ten feet away she waited, eyeing this prospective husband up and down. There was coolness about her, a sense of self that many other women didn't have. Her light brown hair graced the top of her shoulders and her eyes sparkled with the light of a thousand stars.
"I'll take her," he said to the storekeeper.
"Excellent choice, if you step this way we can make it official" said the storekeeper.

On the drive home, the man had a hard time controlling his enthusiasm. No longer would he have to spend the long holiday season alone. The cold winter months would finally be filled with companionship instead of loneliness. As he turned the corner to his house he realized the woman was crying.
"Why are you crying?"He asked.
With a sniffle she replied, "All my life I've dreamed of this moment. I dreamed that one day a man would come and buy me and we would travel home together. Finally this day has come, and I've realized I don't want it. I just want to be free. I want to be able to choose a husband for myself. I don't want you for my husband".

His heart stopped. Everything had been so perfect. He had actually bought himself a wife, but suddenly she didn't want him as a husband. Darkness filled his soul. He stopped the car in front of his house and said, "If you don't want me I won't force it". Fiddling with the keychain he removed his house key and got out of the car.
With a face of stone he said, "For your troubles take my car, and farewell. All your belongings are in the trunk". Then he walked away, leaving his happiness, and companionship behind.

Liberation

Sometimes I let my imagination get the better of me. I sit and daydream of a day when I won't be in school. A day that leads to the nutrition of my actual desires. No longer will I be liable for busy work assigned to me in a class that I don't want to attend. I'll finally have the freedom to choose what I want to do. My research, my writing, my peace of mind will be my own. Then the ticking of a clock wakes me from my dreams. Liberation will have to wait for another day. All I can do until that day is to doggy paddle along, hoping that a wave doesn't come along to submerge my hopes.

A life more ordinary

For weeks now I have been wondering how to escape the regularity of everyday life. It has really been weighing me down. The last thing I wanted was to give in to the ordinary. I wanted to make my life different. Aware of the worry that I cause my family, I can't help but to scheme ways to achieve my goals. I even got to the point that I wanted to drop out of school, buy a dog, name it Biskut, and then roam North America on a motorcycle. Although it would lead to acheivement of some goals such as: getting a dog and a motorcycle. I realized that doing something like that isn't what I am looking for. It wouldn't lead to the freedom that I seek. Unfortunately most of my other plans followed suit, they never quite seemed to satisfy my desires. I was at a loss (and still am). As hard as I tried I couldn't find or even create "my neverland". Through my pursuit of irregularity I have learned a few things:
5 month old neices are great listeners.
It is harder than it seems to become a gypsie.
Life as a pirate is great, but short lived.
Television is the nemesis of creativity.
Pie is sweeter than cake.
A dead mouse is an unhappy mouse.
As my life has moved on, slowly, ever so slowly. I go to college, I date periodically, I go to church, I sleep in church, I play, I work, my life it has seemed extremely ordinary. It is filled with a regularity I have been trying to avoid. I don't own a motorcycle, and I don't have a dog named Biskut. Although my life is ordinary I've realized something important about ordinary lives. They aren't always ideal, but they are real. For now all I can do is to dream of "my neverland". I know dreams never achieved anything, but It is those dreams that keep me going in a life that is filled with regularity. As long as I have dreams there is hope of finding the freedom that I seek.

Robots in Disguise

PLEASE DO NOT RESPOND TO THIS MESSAGE, as it will not be seen nor read by a human.

Level sixty one is incomplete. Please do not repeat. Level nine is galactical and sublime. Prepare to tear your mind, level 29 is one of a kind.

PLEASE DO NOT RESPOND TO THIS MESSAGE, as it will not be seen nor read by a human.

Clearance

I was shopping with my family. We were in some sort of clothing store. All the clothes had ridiculous prices. There was no way I could afford anything. Then I saw the clearance section. It was filled with warm weather clothes for girls. I was getting very frustrated. I just wanted some shorts. Then suddenly, right before my eyes was a beautiful winter jacket. It had a tan linen outside, with a hood. It was almost rustic looking, but obviously new. I tried it on. The inside was lined with fleece. I had never before found a jacket so marvelous, so comfortable, and in clearance. There was no price on the jacket. Obviously someone had misplaced it in the clearance section. Deciding not to give up I found a store clerk and asked her how much the jacket was.
She said, "Oi, that beautiful thing is $9".
I couldn't believe it. I decided to try it on again to make sure that I wanted to buy it.
The store clerk said, "that is one fine jacket sir. It really fits you great".
I looked around for my family, but they couldn't be found. Again I noticed how the clearance section was mostly women's summer clothing.
Feeling slightly curious about the jacket I asked, " why is this jacket on clearance?"
The clerk replied, " the airbags are malfunctioning".
I made the mistake of laughing. She punched my arm. POOF!

Pancake Zac

The hot summer days seemed to be evaporating before my eyes. There was change in the air. Autumn was nearly here. My favorite way to spend the evenings was to doze in a rocking chair. Back and forth I'd rock, remembering the good ol'days when Apple Beer cost only a nickel. The sound of two boys wrestling around in the dirt waffled through the air, breaking my sweet remembrance,
"CHEATER!" yelled one.
"AM NOT!" yelled the other.
Around and around they rolled, punching, clawing, biting, spitting, doing anything young boys could think of.
"HOLD UP THERE", I roared.
Neither one payed notice. Trying again I said, "Stop this bickering boys".
They continued rolling around like wild animals.
"Hey I'll give you both five dollars if you stop", I said.
Their scuffle paused momentarily.
"Really?" they asked in unison.
"No, I just wanted to see if you could hear me", I replied.
They began fighting again. Realizing that they weren't listening to words, I decided to try a different tactic. Lifting my old body out of my rocker I reached over and grabbed my cane. I used it to hobble over to the occupied boys. When I got close enough I began whacking. "Take that, and that, and this," I said as I smacked them with my cane.
"Ouch!" Said one.
"Ouch!" Said the other.
"Stop!" they said together.
I just kept whacking away.
"Why, OUCH! Why are you, OUCH! doing this, OUCH! too us?" asked one of the boys.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me", I replied with a chuckle.
"What?" Screamed the other boy.
"My words didn't work so I figured I'd use sticks and stones. Hopefully my stick works, if it doesn't I'm going to start using stones", I cackled.
"We'll stop!" they yelled,"please just don't hit us with your cane any more!"
"Alright", I said, as I whacked them again for good measure.
I stood eyeing them as they caught their breath. Both boys looked to be about 11 years old. They were covered in so much dirt you could hardly tell they were humans.
"So what type of argument could make creatures like yourselves roll around in the dirt?" I asked.
"He called me a cheat!" one said, pointing to the other.
"He is a cheat!" Said the other, pointing to the one.
Before they could begin fighting again I whacked them on their heads.
"OUCH!" They yelped.
"Well did you cheat?" I asked the boy with that label.
"Just a little bit!" he replied.
"How about you?" I asked, pointing at the other. "Did you cheat too?"
"Not as much as he did", he replied.
"Hmmm, so you both cheated? but neither of you wants to be called a cheater? Is that correct?", I asked.
"Yes sir", they replied.
Trying not to smile at their serious response I said, "Why don't both of you climb up onto my porch here, and I'll give you an apple beer and tell you a story about cheaters".
Realizing there was no way out of listening to an old timer like myself, they answered, "yes sir". I knew they didn't really want to listen, but it gave me someone to talk to, so I ushered them onto my creaky old porch and gave them a cold apple beer.

Many, many years ago there was a young man. His name was Zachary, but most people just called him Pancake, or Pancake Zac. You see, ever since Pancake could remember, pancakes were his specialty. He could make blueberry, craisinberry, chocolate, whole wheat, half wheat, no wheat, sweet, not sweet, or just plain'ol pancakes. You name it and he could make it with a pancake. For miles around everybody knew Pancake could make the best darn pancakes there ever were. Well one day Pancake found himself in a game of Texas Hold'em. Boy oh boy was it a game to remember. This game had begun in a tournament of cards. Everybody and their dogs had started, but now there were only four people left. Wiley Cry, a Native American brave, Susie Mcdougal the local inn keeper, Smelly Tom the barber, and Pancake himself. Oh and also Smart Henries dog. (I said four people, Henries dog was still in). Needless to say, everyone of those people (and the dog) were incredibly handy when it came to card playing. There were bluffs, calling bluffs, Straights, full houses, Royal Straights, you name it they played it. The game went on and on, nobody gaining ground on the other competitors. The night came and went, morning arrived, then left, then the day passed on by, Still they played, and played and played. Nobody was going to give in. Well Pancake being an intelligent young man, knew he could only take so much more. So he hatched a plan, so devious and sly he couldn't believe Wiley handn't thought of it before him. Yet again the night went by and morning arrived.
"Hey there Susie", Pancaked said. "If you give in now I'll make you pancakes for a month". And he really would, he kind of liked Susie, she was an awefully nice critter for those parts.
Susie gave Pancake one of the sweetest smiles he had ever seen and replied, "Those darn pancakes you concoct aren't worth the tail of a door mouse". Everyone nearby gasped. Nobody had ever passed up Pancake's pancakes.
"Dang Susie you must never have had my Royal raspberry pancakes before!" Pancake replied in mock surprise. "I like to go pick some fresh raspberries, then I sprinkle them into the batter. After I fry them up I sprinkle a little bit of powdered sugar on top. OH! I almost forgot, after the light sprinkle of powdered sugar I add some of my mama's special buttermilk syrup. Hmmm it's making my mouth water just thinking of it."
"This is no card game, this is torture! Pancake if you make me half a dozen of those special Raspberry pancakes I'll quit now!" Wiley yelled as he stuck out his hand for Pancake to shake.
"Deal", Pancake yelled back, grabbing Wiley's hand before he could take it back.
Because of Pancakes cunning there were now only four participants left, Pancake of course, Susie Mcdougal, Smart Henries dog, and Smelly Tom.

-------To be continued---------

Cornbread?

This last week I have had a wonderful experience. I've been a building supervisor for education week at BYU. At the beginning of the week I was a little nervous about all the responsibility that I would be facing. But one day away from the end, everything has been magical. I use the word magical because it seems to be a teenager kind of word. The building I've been supervising is the Smith Field House. All the classes in there are youth classes. Ages 14-18. Needless to say there is a lot of awkwardness and flirting. But there is a magical quality that lingers.

Tonight as part of my responsibilities as a building supervisor I had the opportunity to chaperon the Youth dance. At first I was at the gate making sure people had passes. After a little while I was allowed into the dance. (I don't know what they were thinking letting me in, but I didn't dance, I controlled myself). Here are a list of things I had to inforce:
1. NO moshing. (jumping up and down was okay, but they weren't allowed to run into each other)
2. Ties had to be tied, shirts had to be tucked in, and shoes had to be worn. Oddly enough I spent a lot of time asking young men to tie their ties and tuck in their shirts.
3. I was an inforcer when it came to couples dancing too close together. When I witnessed episodes of dancing too close I would walk up, tap them on the shoulder and tell them they had to spread apart and dance like so, I would then precede to lift my left hand to eye level and my right hand to waist level. (A little cheesy, but they got the picture).
4. No standing on benches. For some reason people enjoyed dancing on top of the benches.
5. No kissing. Luckily I didn't deal with any kissers.

While the youth danced, my job was to patrol the perimeters and the dance floor checking for the above mentioned taboos. That was when it got really interesting. Numerous girls flirted with me, (my favorite was when a young lady told me she liked my hair). I also had a bundle of girls ask me to dance. Seeing as I was working and about 6 years older then some of them I apolegetically declined.

All in all it was a good dance. But it sure was hard not to bust a move.

Ode to Nutella

This was a poem written by Kpup and myself.

Ode to Nutella

Creamy brown, sufficient to turn my frown upside down.
Thou art a divine creation, not subject to my malignation.
Oh how my addiction howls for consumption of your quintessence.
Oh nutella
Oh nutella
I need you nutella
When your jar is empty, my upside down frown turns back around.
Without Your sugars my jowls recede, leaving me quite healthy.
I come to indulge my palatial desires, upon thy Heavenly substance.
I peak in the cupboard hoping to find thee, but thou art gone! On the counter I search, on the floor, in the fridge, but you have evaded me. Eventually I find thee, Open and scrapped bare next to a pair of dirty underwear, in the garbage.
Nutella!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Gnome

The following poem was inspired by William Blake's poem called, "The Lamb".

The Gnome
Little gnome who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life and bid thee feed,
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Tweedy clothing neon bright;
Gave thee such a scruffy voice,
Making all the vales rejoice!
Little gnome who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little gnome I'll tell thee,
Little gnome I'll tell thee!
It was not thy parents who made thee
Indeed it was a factory in Malaysia that made thee.
They are cheap and super efficient
I a human and thou a gnome,
We are not called by the same name,
Little gnome god bless thee
Little gnome god bless thee.

It Has Been Figured Out!

What inspires us to create? The other day I was inspired by a commercial for bottled water. The first time I saw the commercial it was absurd. The next time it became interesting. The third time it was inspiring. After watching the commercial over and over again, I decided to create my interpretation of the commercial.
These are a few words that represent my project and the commercial I saw:
Freedom
Conform
Bizarre
Conventional
Harmony
Estranged

A Mischievous Tortoise

A little bit of background: My grandpa has been told by the doctor that he can't/shouldn't drive. His muscles are slowly deteriorating and he is less capable of moving his foot from one petal to the next. One time his foot got stuck on the gas and he hit a post in a parking lot. My siblings and I don't ride with him when he drives. One of the last times I did ride with him, he sped up for every red light, then slammed on the brakes. That was a few years ago before the doctor told him to stop driving.

On this lovely afternoon my cousin and I found ourselves sitting in the back of my grandparents vehicle. The sun was beating down, and it was hot! Grandpa, who was sitting in the passenger seat, slowly stood up. Using the car as support he looked at the front door, checking for grandma. Then he looked back at us and smiled. Again he peaked over the top of the car checking for grandma. She was nowhere in sight. Moving as fast as he could and looking like an old tortoise, he made his way around the car. As he got to the driver side door he checked for grandma again. She still was nowhere to be seen. He opened the door and sat down in the driver's seat and started the car. Why he even had keys to grandma's car I don't know, but he did and they worked. I looked over at my cousin and closed my door. Grandpa closed his door too. Shortly after my grandpa closed the door he put the car into reverse and started backing up. My cousin decided to close his door too. When we reached the end of the drive way grandpa stopped the car. Then he put it in drive. I looked over at my cousin and shrugged my shoulders. Then I put on my seat belt. Very slowly we inched forward, but instead of returning to the previous spot, grandpa turned the steering wheel. We were headed out onto the grass of their front yard. My cousin started snickering. I felt like snickering too, but I could just picture the car smashing into one of their many trees. As we drove into the yard grandma came out the front door.
"Al what are you doing?" she shrieked.
"Hearing Aids," he yelled back.
"What are you doing? You aren't insured," she yelled.
"I need my hearing aids," he yelled.
"That's convenient," grandma said under her breadth. "What are you doing on the lawn?" she asked.
"Oh, I was just giving the boys some shade. They looked hot," he replied.
I couldn't take it any longer. Both my cousin and I started laughing. Luckily grandpa couldn't hear us. He didn't have his hearing aids. Grandma was too worried about grandpa in the drivers seat to notice.

whoosh!

To my friends, associates, family, and the odd person who happens upon my blog:

I ate the Easter Bunny.
My Sandwich ate me.
I climbed to the top of the world but didn't yell.
Yard work fulfilled my desires.
Yes meant, I hate you.
No meant, I hate you more.
Anger turned to fear.
Fear turned to a mirror.
My soul went on a break from my body.
It became a super-tramp, and a mountain man.
My body got stuck in Provo.
Inside I'm so twisted, it is amazing that I survive.
I restrain 90% of my thoughts.
Telepathy controlled my mind.
When I slept, I flew.
Dark corridors gave me comfort.
The edge called my name.
The sun tore through my brain.
Leaving me in a puddle of rain.
The edge called my name.
I tried to refrain.
Sometimes I'm 100% insane.
I danced with a wolf.
He tore out my throat.
Like I was a billy goat.
My freedom shrank, and it stank.
I need to break free.
Free like a flying tree.

A Magical Malady

It wasn't the largest track or the prettiest. In fact it was quite ordinary for a slick track. Even with it's imperfections, at that moment, for me, it was perfect. A slight breeze ruffled my hair as I climbed into the cockpit of my go-cart.
I leaned over my left shoulder I addressed my competition, " K-bear, you don't stand a chance. I'm going to wipe you all over the track".
He replied, "Z diddy, the only thing that is going to be wiped is your corpse after I smash you".
I laughed and strapped my safety harness across my chest. The official began speaking. First I zoned out the official, then the crowd, then my opponent. This was my moment, the only thing that mattered was my own performance. My lungs paused and my heart lurched to a stop. Time stood still. Then the light turned green. My foot hit the gas and I sped around the track. Somehow K-bear got ahead and claimed the inside. I swerved in behind him, using his cart to draft. Around and around we went. A bump here, a bump there, but I couldn't weasel my way by. Then it appeared. K-bear swerved out just far enough. I sped forward. Realizing his mistake he tried to cut me off. I swerved into his cart, sending him into the wall.
Swerving around the carnage, I laughed aloud, "Serves you right. You can't touch this!"
Knowing the race was over I began to coast around the track. It wasn't nearly as much fun alone. As K-bear caught up I let him pass. Then we began to swerve back and forth. The wind was flowing through my hair, my brother was driving next to me, and we both were having a blast. The only thing that could improve the moment was a U-turn. So without further adieu I whipped around and drove in the opposite direction. As K-bear came around again, I whipped out another U-turn and pulled up behind him. What started as a hard-core race, finished as a hard-core laugh.

A Monster Mayhem

"What's up Joe?" said the three year old boy as we drove up.
"Not a lot, is your daddy home?" Joe replied, as he got out of the truck. Leaving Kaleb sitting luxuriously in the front seat while I was crammed in the back seat. Back seat might be a little too nice. It really was half the size of of small, very small, bath tub with a few seat belts. The only way someone my size could fit was by laying horizontal across the seats.
"I'll only be a minute or two," Joe told Kaleb and I. Knowing that Joe's minutes tended to be a little bit longer than 60 seconds I let out a moan.
"What was that?" asked the little boy now only fifteen feet from our small Toyota truck.
"Oh it is my monster," Kaleb responded.
"A monster?" the boy repeated incredulously as he tried to peer through the tinted glass.
"Yep I caught him the other day," Kaleb continued.
"How did you catch him?" the boy asked.
" I caught him in a bush. First I threw out some Haggis. Do you know what Haggis is?" Kaleb asked.
"No," replied the boy.
"It is something that people like to eat in Scotland. Haggis is sheep guts," Kaleb said.
"Where do you get sheep guts?" the boy asked.
"From a dead sheep," Kaleb answered.
Looking quizzical the boy asked, "Why would you want sheep guts?"
"To catch a monster named Zaccis,"Kaleb responded.
"Is that your monsters name?" asked the boy
"Yep," Kaleb said.
"The monster you caught in a bush?" asked the boy.
"Yep," Kaleb responded.
"Is that his foot next to your head," the boy asked.
"Yep," Kaleb replied as he smacked my foot.
"What does your monster like to eat?" asked the boy.
Slightly widening his eyes, Kaleb responded, "little boys wearing blue shorts, gray tee-shirts and with green eyes".
"And haggis?" asked the boy.
"Yep," Kaleb said.
"My eyes are green," said the boy.
"And your shorts are blue, you better be careful. My Zaccis might eat you," Kaleb said.
"Why?" asked the boy.
"Because he's hungry" Kaleb replied.
I decided it was time to add in another moan, "GREEEEaAAAAAAAOOOOOn".
"Can I see him?"the boy asked.
"He sounds hungry," Kaleb warned.
"I'm not scared," the boy bravely responded as he thrust out his chest to show his courage.
Kaleb helped the little boy climb into the truck.
"That isn't a monster!" the boy said. "That is a human".
"No it's a monster, and be careful you don't get too close he'll eat you!" Kaleb warned.
Like most little boys at age of three he ignored Kaleb and poked my foot.
I roared, "AGARAAAAAA" and ate the little boy.

Immortal experiences

I've been changed. First of all I usually try not to blog like this. But I've been changed. I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to attack my bag strap and slide it off. Every time I get a flat tire I see a joyful beautiful beaming face. The face just sits there waiting for my response. Every time I hear the name of Obama I think of a violin. I can hear her teacher voice telling me that my project is neat. Anything purple reminds me of J. Shortly after I'm reminded of the square. I see ice cream cones and I think of punting along to his sarcastic remarks. My stomach makes a sound and I think of Dr. J aka "The Grumbler" and some French word that means talk. Saying the name Dr. J or "The Grumbler reminds me of Angels fighting Angels, which in turn reminds me of bad rapping. Green moss makes me want to fly. Pigeons remind me of pigeons. Public transport reminds me of PVC pipes. Little creature noises make me cringe and smile at the same time. "Do you need help? Should I get your mom to take you to the hospital?" When I eat dinner I'm left feeling empty as I think about banana leaves. Sleep reminds me of transition. I can't listen to Queen without dancing. Hippos are now my second favorite animal( only in a very rare, hard to find form). I hear something click and I think of black and white and purple. The purple in turn leads me to J. which leads me to Square which leads to futbol. Which leads to many many things. It is all a big circly tight knot thingy inside my head. I've been changed.

Pause

My crystal glass shattered, leaving me bare.
My eyes were peeled like an orange. Now I care.
The blanket of fear that encircled me is decaying. Now I care.
I'm part of your memories. Now I care.
I'm beginning to fight for my dreams. Now I care.
I embrace my pain. Now I care.
I am not alone. Now I care.
I took the time to discover myself. Now I care.

Almost Human

There is something innately appealing about mannequins. There semi-human forms, I say semi because many consist of only a torso, or a leg, sometimes just a head, nevertheless they are extremely thought provoking. I look at their soulless/lifeless forms and perceive a sense of longing. They just want to be noticed. I think I could collect mannequins for the rest of my life and never be bored. When I get home I think I will start collecting them. Maybe I should start a collection of mannequins from all over the world. Then I could have an art show entitled, Mannequin Heaven. I think I can help my mannequin friends be noticed. So if you know of a lonely mannequin, save them from their doom and give them to me. I'll find a friend for them.

Stone steps,
repetition, repetition, repetition
stones steps, clicking twists.
Musky air, wonderful sewage smells.

An old building in a new city,
waiting for change to compel its walls to move.
Hidden anguish gushes from it's seems.
"Please don't forget me!"
People used to remember.
Now if they notice, they say "Why should such an old building remain? Why don't they tear down those broken walls? Why don't they rid the world of a useless building?"
Dirt smeared bricks. Fallen from ages of decay. Lying as a memento of a forgotten age. Remembrance is but a dream. A dream slipping through a rushing stream.

A Disasterous Start

This morning I claimed my usual allotment of milk. (about 1 litre here in England). At home I usually pace my milk intake throughout the day. But because of my circumstances I'm forced to consume as much as possible at brekkie. So this morning I claimed my milk. I began eating my cereal when a girl sat across from me. (We'll call her thief #1). So theif #1 sits down across from me and grabs my litre. She then proceeds to pour some of MY milk on Her cereal. I was shocked! Luckily I had enough grace to let her enjoy her cereal. After she finished pouring My milk, I grabbed it from the middle of the table. This time I kept one hand on My milk while I finished my brekkie. Because of the increasing crowd I decided to guzzel my milk in a corner. As I got up another girl (thief # 2) asked me if I'd pour her some of My milk. I was appalled. Unfortunately I was too nice. Yet again I saw more of my litre flow away. Immediately after I poured her a glass I downed what was left of My milk. Needless to say, I've been craving milk all day.

melting on a pan, but frozen like a block of spam.
Half is whole,

When a choice is placed before you, which do you take? Just because an individual is a friend does not mean they can break the rules. But they are a friend and deserve loyalty. When is an individual worthy of a second chance?

A rainy day is awfully dry.

Respect: to show regard or consideration for;
Through out life we will have opportunities to practice respect

Addiction

Adieu Adieu, For I am lacking you.
Oh so creamy white!
You're wetting my appetite.

Away I'll steal, for a drop of heavenly dew.
Kai po, they'll cry.
But you're so magnificent to my eye.

Adieu Adieu, They refuse to let me at you.

The Adventures of Yonvich and Goulaf (The biggest flower in the history of mankind is visited by the brothers)

"Goulaf this is a big flower," Yonvich declared as he starred into the depths of an enormous flower.
"Yes indeed it is. I can just picture myself bathing in such a large blossom," Goulaf replied as he scrunched his face in imagination.
"Well Goulaf, this has been an adventure. What do we visit next?" Yonvich asked.
Goulaf's eyes twinkled as he said, "Yonvich my brother, we shall travel two and one half hours North to the land of York. I would very much like it if we travelled to the homeland of the brilliant peppermint York".
With that the two brothers turned from the worlds largest flower and marched back the way they had come.

Recognizance

a Dangerous Story greets him
attentively,
Redness Has united, “ fight the English?”
Risked station, small,
speaks improvement.

AND with care, buy that of equality
A seasons blushing torrent,
like God Twisting Water.
Blocking Here The Doors of Dangerous Peasants
never a stream against
the downpours of the English.

I’d rather be the son of that cave.
Salty against the purchase,
Empty from the market.

Yet a Parcel of worship,
Itself Empty of a purchase
does unite me.

A collapse of History salutes carefully.
Are we capable of congratulations?
Aye, my Knickers are in a Grateful bunch.

Malignation

In a crowd,
drowning out the slightest
sound.
I've become a bitter, resentful mound.
Maturing flesh
marinating in a perturbent mess.
Enclosed by customs seen,
but not yet met.
My heart resides
yet does not rise.

The Adventures of Yonvich and Goulaf (A tree)

"Ahoy Yonvich," said Goulaf.
"What Goulaf?" Yonvich asked.
"That tree beckons to me,"Goulaf replied pointing to a twisting gnarly tree. "I think I need to climb it".
"Alright let us climb that tree," Yonvich proclaimed.
The brothers ran to the tree. Back in the homeland tree climbing was Goulaf's favorite activity. But never before had he seen such a magnificent, or challenging climb as this tree offered. The first branches were growing about ten feet above the ground. The only way they could climb up was if they used the tree to propell their bodies into the air to grab the lowest branch. As they neared Goulaf picked his footing and lunged. As his foot came in contact with the tree it slipped sending him slamming into the trunk. Mean while Yonvich had circled the tree to start his ascent from the other side. He planted his right foot onto the tree and flung is body upward. Yonvich grabbed the branch with one hand, but it slipped off. He tumbled down landing awkwardly on the roots.
"Goulaf? Are you alive?" asked Yonvich.
"Ehh, I'm alive," groaned Goulaf.
Too stubborn to be beat on the first try, the brothers circled the tree looking for a way up.
"Goulaf, we should climb here," Yonvich said, pointing at a branch hanging slightly lower than the others.
For a moment Goulaf starred at the tree then he replied, " Yes that looks like the spot".
Yonvich ran at the tree and with one leap he propelled himself from the the trunk into the air. His outstretched body flew upwards. He managed to grab the branch with both hands and pull himself upwards. Goulaf followed his brothers example.
"Yes this is a very good climb," Goulaf said as the brothers swung through the branchs.
"Oio, Yonvich get out of the tree," Goulaf yelled. "There are bees".
Both Yonvich and Goulaf jumped from the tree. The smashed to the ground with a thud.
"Goulaf I hate bees," Yonvich said as the brothers continued up the path towards the worlds largest flower. Behind them a swarm of bees buzzed around a magnificent climbing tree.

The Adventures of Yonvich and Goulaf (begin)

Under threatening clouds, stood two brothers, waiting to get into Kew Gardens.

"Yonvich, why are we here?" Goulaf asked.
"Goulaf we are here to see the worlds largest blooming flower," Yonvich replied.
"Why do we want to see a flower?" Goulaf asked.
"So we can say we have seen the worlds largest flower," Yonvich replied.
"Next please," said the teller.
"We would like to see the worlds biggest flower please," Goulaf said.
"14 pounds ," the teller said in response.
Grabbing their tickets they walked through the gate and into the Gardens. In their home country of Bochlovachia nothing was ever as green or beautiful as Kew gardens. There were enormous trees of every kind, growing so high the tops were hidden in the clouds. The grass was so thick you could lay down without leaving an imprint. It was a paradise that the brothers had never experienced before.
"Yonvich! Yonvich! What strange world is this?" Goulaf asked.
There was no response. Goulaf turned to look at his brother. Yonvich stood like a marble statue,with his mouth half open a trail of spittle seeping from the corner of it. Goulaf marched over to his brother and smacked his face.
"Yonvich are you okay?" Goulaf asked.
Rubbing his face Yonvich replied, "I'm fine, the gardens just surprised me".

T0 be continued:

Plaque

Ancient streets
Sore feet
Baaaaaaaaaaa
Waaa wa wa waaaaa
Rustling leaves
Whispering trees
Baaaaaaaaaaa
Waaa wa wa Waaaaa
slow
down
please
Baaaaaaaaaaa
waaa wa wa waaaaa
they have showers,
a very nice set up
Baaaaaaaaaaa
waaa wa wa waaaaa

Music in my mind

Music fills my mind. Over and over it plays, bursting my brain with it's unholy concoctions. I wish it would stop. STOP. STOP. STOP. Images and colors swirl around, awkwardly trying to dance to the murderous melody. It is a disease that rides my mind. It rides my mind all the time.

A Real Man

Yesterday I helped out my friend with a bunch of yard work. It was a little strange for me to be so willing to help him, growing up I hated yard work. But I was helping a friend, plus I was going to be able to use a chainsaw. I guess it was mainly for the chainsaw. We went to pick up the chainsaw. The owner was a single lady and the chain was off the saw. Neither of us had used a chainsaw before, so we didn't know how to put the chain on. We asked if we could take it to a hardware store to have someone put it on. She scoffed at us. Then she said, "you don't need to take it in. You can walk up to almost any man in the neighborhood and they'll know how to put it on". We realized then, that neither of us were real men. We had no idea how to put a chain on a chainsaw. Luckily there was a real man living next door to this lady. He generously helped us get the chain on and then demonstrated how to use the saw. Eventually we had both used the saw. Then the chain came off. Deciding I wanted to test my manhood, I put the chain back on myself. It worked. I can use a chainsaw and put a chain onto the saw. So now I can truly say I am a real man.

I know how the earth was created.
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago the earth was a huge jawbreaker. One day God decided that he wanted to eat it. So he stuck it in his mouth and began to suck. He sucked and he sucked, but like all jaw-breakers it changed very slowly. So God just kept sucking. Frustrated by the slow progress he took it from his mouth and glared his wrath upon it. Then a sudden understanding came to him. He realized he was looking at a most precious piece of art. His jawbreaker had transformed into a miraculous, half eaten, masterpiece. "I will name you Terra Firma, for you are exceedingly hard to change," he said. He licked it and stuck it into space. Then he proceeded to create the other planets in our galaxy. But the earth was his first so he saved something special for it. He sent his children to live their mortal lives on the surface of the Terra Firma or Ridiculously hard jawbreaker as I like to call it.

If you want to know how he created the oceans just think about how you change a jawbreaker.

Flying

I dream of flying.
Mostly it is gliding.
This sailing through the air,
leaves me without any care.
I'll swoop and swirl
droop and curl.

Then birds jealous of my jaunt
will ask, "what do you try?"
"I am flying," I will shout. "I am flying without any doubt".
They reply, "eventually you will fall. First you will stall, then you will fall, fall, fall".

Looking down, I see the ground.
My lungs compress.
My stomach rises through my chest.

Alone I'll lie, fallen from the sky,
trying not to cry.
My broken wings lie nearby
encrusted,
encrusted with my alibi.

Running

Swirling blues and greens, reds and yellows, colors of every kind. Constantly forming different patterns, shapes, and sounds. Every blade of grass, every slab of cement is unique in ways untold. A heightened awareness of the surrealistic environment emanates through every fiber of the universe. This isn’t a Picasso or Michelangelo; this is a different type of masterpiece. This is running.
With an untold fury our bodies scream. They warn us of how close we are to the source of all things. In those precious moments we reach a potential hidden inside all of us. We become one, not many, but one magnificent world. The chaos and stress seep from our beings. Peace saturates everything, from head to toe. No longer do we worry about tomorrow, instead we focus on the present.
This wondrous experience won’t be priceless. Our bodies pay for every passing second. Fiery side aches will be our plague, as well as torn muscles and bruised feet. For many the price will be unbearable, but that isn’t a mistake. All of life’s greatest treasures have hefty fines.
Eventually our bodies will tire. The moment will pass. Once again we will awaken to the noise and the distractions. Although we awake, never again will we go back to what we were. We will feel a longing to experience the sense of cohesiveness once more. This longing will come from the very depths of our soul. How can we refuse, once again we will embark upon the perilous adventure of running.

I'll Have Legs Tomorrow

The couch was soft and mushy, a perfect hiding spot from the world. I loved to become encompassed by its musky warmth. That’s where I was when Jenny discovered my presence.
“Zac could you go get the mail,” she asked.
“Ummmm, Jenny I don’t want to,” I responded.
With a glare she repeated herself, “Zac go get the mail”.
There was an electric current in the air, the type you can feel before lightning strikes. Oh how I wish I didn’t have legs, then I wouldn’t be able to go get the mail.
Realizing that I was ignoring her, she raised her voice, “ZAC go get the mail?”
Hiding my smirk I deviously replied, “I can’t, I don’t have any legs”. The tension snapped. Jenny grabbed the keys to the mailbox and stormed out leaving an imprint of her silhouette plastered to my mind.
I should have been worried about Jenny. Instead all I could think about was my perfect response, “I can’t, I don’t have any legs”. What if I really didn’t have legs? With a crash I was rudely dragged from my thoughts. A wild beast stood in the doorway. The fire in her eyes was so powerful I could feel my hair singeing from across the room.
Vehemently she spat, “Thanks a lot Zac”.
“Jenny?” I squeaked.
“What do you want now?” she roared.
Relief flowed through me like a cool stream. I wasn’t dead yet. Feeling slightly braver I continued, “Jenny where is my wheel chair?”
“Zac you don’t have a wheel chair”, she sneered.
Dang it, why was she doing this to me? First the mail and now my wheel chair, why does she expect me to do everything? I don’t even have legs! With a thud, I rolled off the couch. As I started to drag myself across the floor I made the mistake of looking at the carpet. Once this carpet was white, now its not. Crumbs, dirt, and the unknown were scattered about. Looking behind me I noticed the streak my lifeless legs left in the dirt. They reminded me of worms on a rainy day.
Digging a trough through the grime, I slithered past the kitchen and into the hallway. By this time both my elbows were screeching their defiance. Pausing for a moment I peered at my damaged flesh. The skin on my arm was getting rubbed raw. Stifling a moan and wiping away a tear, I hid my pain from my sister. The last thing I wanted was to give her the pleasure of seeing my pain. Embracing my deteriorating flesh I continued toward the end of the hallway. If I could just make it on my own I would find some semblance of dignity.
With a lurch I shoved open the bathroom door to face-plant next to the toilet. For a second I lay there, breathing in the musky smell of urine. After a while I pried my face from the ground and squirmed my way inside. Trying not to think about my shattered dignity, I heaved myself onto the edge of the bathtub. Meticulously I began to undress. Just as I managed to escape the confines of clothing, I slipped. Backwards I fell, smashing my head on the porcelain tub. As the light dimmed, a blanket of darkness encircled my decrepit body.
When I woke up I realized I was lying exposed in the cold, unforgiving porcelain tub. The faucet was slowly leaking one drop at a time, creating unwanted chaos in my throbbing head. Reaching forward I turned on the faucet. A rush of ice water surged forth. The shock stole the breath from my body. With each drop of water, my body became exceedingly numb.
Embracing that numbness I pondered my lifeless legs. Why did I have to live life as a cripple? My heart and soul yearned for the chance to run along a windswept beach. I was sick of this arduous life. “Ouch” Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any worse something else began to cause me pain. Where was this spiteful ache coming from? It wasn’t my elbows or my head. From a hidden alcove of my mind, the answer spewed forth. It was my toe! I was feeling my toe. If I could feel my toe, could I feel my legs?
Exploring this epiphany I grabbed hold of the shower curtain. Using it like a rope in gym class, I started to heave my body upwards. When I finally climbed high enough I focused on my insensitive legs trying to motivate them to support my weight. Slowly my legs materialized beneath my body. Trying not to think about gravity, I let go of the curtain.
My body betrayed me with feeling. I fell back into oblivion. Overwhelmed by despair my hope cracked. WHY? All I wanted was to stand, even if it was just for a moment. Why, couldn’t I experience life like everybody else? Channeling my anger I surged up the curtain one more time. Dangling like a broken wind chime, my fears flourished. My legs are dead! This is insane; I don’t want to fall down again. I hung there looking at the abyss below knowing I was about to fall. “Crack” the bar holding the curtain snapped in two. As I fell the curtain reminded me of a majestic waterfall cascading from its captivity. If only I could leave my prison too.
“BANG, BANG, BANG”, the door sang. Can doors sing? As a spatter of cold water cleared away the fog, I realized Jenny was pounding on the door. Sounding slightly worried she asked, “Zac! Are you okay?”
“What?” I asked, feeling like a butterfly in a tornado.
Letting out a sigh, either in frustration or relief she continued, “Are you okay? I heard something crash”.
She really did sound worried. For a minute I considered how to answer. Trying to be as optimistic as possible I replied, “Oh it was just me, nothing to worry about”.
Not satiated by my explanation, she bellowed like a mad elephant, “WHAT HAPPENED?”
“Jenny?” I sputtered.
“What?” she retorted, sounding slightly less irritated?
“I think I can do it!” I exclaimed, sounding like an overenthusiastic baby bird.
Hesitating for a second she asked, “Do what?”
Barely managing to hold my excitement at bay I replied, “I think I can stand!!!”
“Zac, you have always been able to stand. You can even walk” she scoffed.

CRACK

The blue track shimmered in the scorching heat. There were nine lanes, and nine competitors. Only eight of them would score points for their teams. None of them could make any mistakes. This had to be the best race of their young careers.
Sweat trickled off of my eyebrow and into my eye, leaving a salty sting in its wake. “On your marks” shouted the official. With a slight readjustment of my sweat soaked jersey, I mounted my blocks. Shoving everything else from my mind I focused on the hurdle in front of me.
Many of these athletes had expected to find themselves in this position. Through the whole season they had been preparing for this race, every one of them knew they would be here. They were all mentally prepared, as well as physically. Except for me. Nobody expected me to be in the state finals. Heck, I still couldn’t believe it.
At region I wasn’t expected to be a competitor. During the race one of the leaders tripped on a hurdle. Three of us passed him; only one of us went on to state. I beat both of them on the lean. Less than a second divided the three of us.
Two weeks later found me in the qualifying rounds at state. I didn’t even deserve to race on such a magnificent track. All I could hope for was a decent race, a race that wouldn’t completely embarrass me.
Yet again I lucked out. Or did I? With the speed and agility only the elite had, I found myself flying around the track. It was a miracle; not only did I run one of the best races in my hurdling career, but I made it into the state finals.
The next day my name was in the paper. All my life I have wanted recognition for my athletic prowess, finally I received it. After all my hard work, I was someone that could accomplish the ultimate goal. It was my first year running the 300 hurdles, and I was going to win state.
Usually I looked down on superstition. But somewhere along the line that had all changed. From eating the same breakfast to tying my shoes, everything was going to be the same as the day before. In the qualifying rounds I had one of the best races of my life. This race couldn’t get botched, it meant way too much. Everything had to be exactly the same.
“GET SET” came the call. With a loud bang, I surged from my blocks, careening down the scorching blue track. First one hurdle and then the next, I was really doing it, I was going to win.
“CRACK” my knee slammed into the third hurdle. Mentally refocusing, I forced the agonizing pain from my mind. Pushing my legs harder and faster than ever before, I surged to make up lost ground. They were not going to get away.
“CRACK” I crashed into the next hurdle. My timing was off! During those terrifying seconds of reality, I looked up and saw my coach yelling at me. “Come on Zac you can do it. Attack the hurdles.” Flinging myself at the next hurdle only worsened my plight. Another ear splitting crack filled the air. As the hurdle fell, so did my dreams.
Faster than I anticipated the other competitors pulled away leaving me in their dust. Already I could see their mocking smiles. Serves me right for pretending to be as good as they were. Someone else was going to win.
Finally I cleared a hurdle, breaking the heart-wrenching streak. Determined not to give up, I called on the core of my being. It was too late though, if only I hadn’t hit so many hurdles! With each passing second my amazing come-from-behind win slid through my fingers.
Stumbling through the finish line everything became a blur. The hours of practice the pain the frustration, all forsaken on a couple of hurdles. It didn’t matter that even having hit three hurdles I got the same exact time as the day before. None of it mattered. My team wouldn’t be getting any points from my efforts. The only medal I’d be taking home were the bruises on my legs.
The papers had overestimated my abilities; I had overestimated my abilities. Slowly my race faded from the minds of the onlookers. Along with the race fading, I faded. Nobody cared who I was anymore. I had come in last.

Kindling

There sat a tree.
Contemplating life.
Its branches weeping despondently
The bark peeled away leaving it small and gray

CAWWWWWWWWW! CAWWWWWWWW!
Screamed a crow