There was a time before this, what we have now. This separation of Church and State. At least, that's what I've heard. I don't know if I believe it, though. It's always been like this, with Church on the one side of me and State on the other. The line that I work, the only place where there is no Church and there is no State, is a place of absolute grey, The Line Between. A place of paperwork and red tape, of taking vows and rescinding them.
The State is a drab place, all black and brown and other colors of emotional repression and absolute unconditional black and white justice. In the State the laws are the laws of man, made without emotion, pure justice for all. Absolute law. A jury of your peers is always available to judge you for any matter, big or small, and the streets are curfewed diligently. Crime is low and murder is unheard of, mostly because nobody is allowed to talk about. Justice is a cruel mistress.
The Church is flamboyant, colored in blues and reds and yellows to hide the shame of a missed prayer or a wayward glance. Emotion and God preside and reside heavily in daily life. Prayers are offered, sheep are sacrificed, and bibles are continually thumped to the rhythm of The One True God's beating heart. There is no law save the law of God, which can be translated differently depending on the crime and who might have committed it. And God forbid anyone to commit a crime against religion, for God does not forgive, for The One True God is not a forgiving God, not as much as anyone would have you believe.
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
Blue Chapter 1 part 2
The first thing she noticed after her grand entrance into Swallin Realty was that the air conditioning was way, way too cold. She had instant goose bumps. Great, she thought, now I’m gonna have to shave my legs again, too, as she felt the goose bumps line her bare legs. She wasn’t sure that this day could get any worse.
And then when she saw who her father meant by ‘them’, her day got even worse. It was Dick Swallin, James’s son. He was not someone who she was expecting to see; rather he was someone she avoided at all costs. This wasn’t really a challenge, she hardly ever spoke to her father’s friend since she had moved out of the house a few years ago, considerably cutting down the amount of time she had to spend with Dick. Their parents usually threw them together in what she could only assume were attempts to make them friends, it was something that Lucy wanted nothing to do with.
First of all, Lucy had a hard time with anyone who wanted to call themselves Dick. His name was Richard, he could have picked Rick or Richie or Rich but, no, he wanted to go by Dick. He was the exact type of person who went by Dick as well, over confident and brash, pushy and strong willed. She did not get along well with people who always assumed they were the most important person in the room. By calling himself Dick she assumed he was trying to make people feel uncomfortable around him, giving himself the upper hand in any situation. He made her feel uncomfortable just by existing in the same room as her.
And then when she saw who her father meant by ‘them’, her day got even worse. It was Dick Swallin, James’s son. He was not someone who she was expecting to see; rather he was someone she avoided at all costs. This wasn’t really a challenge, she hardly ever spoke to her father’s friend since she had moved out of the house a few years ago, considerably cutting down the amount of time she had to spend with Dick. Their parents usually threw them together in what she could only assume were attempts to make them friends, it was something that Lucy wanted nothing to do with.
First of all, Lucy had a hard time with anyone who wanted to call themselves Dick. His name was Richard, he could have picked Rick or Richie or Rich but, no, he wanted to go by Dick. He was the exact type of person who went by Dick as well, over confident and brash, pushy and strong willed. She did not get along well with people who always assumed they were the most important person in the room. By calling himself Dick she assumed he was trying to make people feel uncomfortable around him, giving himself the upper hand in any situation. He made her feel uncomfortable just by existing in the same room as her.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Blue, Chapter 1 part 1
Some of you may have read this already, I decided to post the chapters of the story I've written so far on my blog for the next couple of posts. Hopefully you enjoy.
Chapter 1, Entrances
Lucy was late, lost and strangely enough, laughing. It was something she did, the laughing, when she was frustrated or upset. She figured that at least it beat crying, which was what she did when she was angry. She was hoping this whole situation would be incredibly funny to her later; her hysterical laughing was just a preamble. It really wasn’t funny, though, and try as she might she had a feeling that there would be nothing funny in the recall about this later, either.
She was looking for a door, one that she was incredibly late in finding. The door belonged to her father’s best friend and sometimes business associate, James Swallin. It was supposedly located as a side door of his business, Swallin and Assoc Realty Co, which Lucy was struggling to find.
Chapter 1, Entrances
Lucy was late, lost and strangely enough, laughing. It was something she did, the laughing, when she was frustrated or upset. She figured that at least it beat crying, which was what she did when she was angry. She was hoping this whole situation would be incredibly funny to her later; her hysterical laughing was just a preamble. It really wasn’t funny, though, and try as she might she had a feeling that there would be nothing funny in the recall about this later, either.
She was looking for a door, one that she was incredibly late in finding. The door belonged to her father’s best friend and sometimes business associate, James Swallin. It was supposedly located as a side door of his business, Swallin and Assoc Realty Co, which Lucy was struggling to find.
Friday, April 22, 2011
A folded note
A lonely girl wrote a question to god on a small white paper. She folded it three times and placed it in her pocket. Every now and then she would take it out and look at it when she thought no one else was looking. Peek at it in secluded places, waiting for an answer. The girl got older and the paper got older, the creases became permanent and the paper browned with dirt and with age. Still she kept the scrap of paper as she matured though she didn't look at it as often.
She kept to looking at it on important days only. She didn't want to rush god's response. She understood that when she was impulsive as a child she wasn't ready yet to have god's answer, now she was a patient woman. God would answer her question, she had absolute faith. It was the only one she had ever asked of god. She grew older and the paper grew older with her. She kept with her always and was always careful of it, treasuring it dearly. And then, one day, she woke and it was gone. She searched everywhere but could not find the question she asked god. She had read it so many times but she had actually forgotten what the question had been. Was this the answer? What did it mean? The woman sat down, still in her pajamas, and cried.
She felt the same when she was done crying, now only more snotty and with less breath. An emptiness she had filled with hope, with a small white folded piece of paper asking a question of god, was now empty and years of neglecting the hole hit her hard. The emptiness was full and complete and she was hollow and alone.
She kept to looking at it on important days only. She didn't want to rush god's response. She understood that when she was impulsive as a child she wasn't ready yet to have god's answer, now she was a patient woman. God would answer her question, she had absolute faith. It was the only one she had ever asked of god. She grew older and the paper grew older with her. She kept with her always and was always careful of it, treasuring it dearly. And then, one day, she woke and it was gone. She searched everywhere but could not find the question she asked god. She had read it so many times but she had actually forgotten what the question had been. Was this the answer? What did it mean? The woman sat down, still in her pajamas, and cried.
She felt the same when she was done crying, now only more snotty and with less breath. An emptiness she had filled with hope, with a small white folded piece of paper asking a question of god, was now empty and years of neglecting the hole hit her hard. The emptiness was full and complete and she was hollow and alone.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Let this be our little secret, no one needs to know we're feeling
So...I had like three things I wanted to write about and now I can only think of two of them.
The first is this...I got into a debate with a Canadian truck driver yesterday over the validity of the US government for the entire tenure of Obama's presidency. Basically, he's a Birther, isn't that what's it call when you want to personally hold Obama's birth certificate in your hands? He told me that Obama is going to have a hard time getting re-elected if he can't show proof. Personally, I don't see how it makes a difference at this point. It's been 3 years. For real. Even if he doesn't have one and did spring from the soil of Kenya a full blooded Muslim, well even then he has already been president for 3 years. What are we going to do about it now?
Well, the Canadian truck driver, I didn't get his name so we will just call him...Canada for short, he told me that if Obama didn't find his birth certificate for the next election it would prove that he is an evil Muslim Terrorist born in the dreaded hot desert sands of Kenya (they have lions) and he would go to jail. For imitating an American. How dare he. Really. Oh, and that they would repeal any and all legislation that has happened in the last 3 years. All of it. Cause it was all done by Obama personally. Cause that's how we roll in the good US of A.
I tried to argue the point that we are not a dictatorial or even monarchy style government and that the House and the Senate actually pass most of the legislation and that Obama is just part of it, not the whole or even the driving force behind much of the legislation that makes its way through congress. Also, the republicans hold the power right now anyway so they can deter Obama's zany madcap schemes all they want anyway. And it's just silly to repeal every law that was passed in the last 3 years. Just plain silly. You know, I just found out that if you mistype plain you can have palin. So I almost said it was just Palin silly, which also is appropriate. I think it synonymous or something, right?
He tried to argue my point but he just kept sounding crazier and I think he realized it, so then he said, don't you have some work to be doing so I can finish unloading this Sodium Hypochlorite or something?
I'm pretty sure that means I win. Right? I won? I never win so I have a hard time knowing when I do, it's such a foreign experience for me. It was a morning full of shock, because who would expect I would be debating American politics with a Birther Republican Canadian at 7:45 am on a Sunday morning. I honestly didn't even know that Birther Republican Canadians existed. And, now that I'm thinking on it, why does he even care? He's Canadian. Isn't it like a colder version of paradise up there or something?
The other thing I remember that I wanted to tell you is that the thunder this morning was crazy loud and long and rumbly. I thought Asher might wake up afraid but I was the only one up. Weird.
The first is this...I got into a debate with a Canadian truck driver yesterday over the validity of the US government for the entire tenure of Obama's presidency. Basically, he's a Birther, isn't that what's it call when you want to personally hold Obama's birth certificate in your hands? He told me that Obama is going to have a hard time getting re-elected if he can't show proof. Personally, I don't see how it makes a difference at this point. It's been 3 years. For real. Even if he doesn't have one and did spring from the soil of Kenya a full blooded Muslim, well even then he has already been president for 3 years. What are we going to do about it now?
Well, the Canadian truck driver, I didn't get his name so we will just call him...Canada for short, he told me that if Obama didn't find his birth certificate for the next election it would prove that he is an evil Muslim Terrorist born in the dreaded hot desert sands of Kenya (they have lions) and he would go to jail. For imitating an American. How dare he. Really. Oh, and that they would repeal any and all legislation that has happened in the last 3 years. All of it. Cause it was all done by Obama personally. Cause that's how we roll in the good US of A.
I tried to argue the point that we are not a dictatorial or even monarchy style government and that the House and the Senate actually pass most of the legislation and that Obama is just part of it, not the whole or even the driving force behind much of the legislation that makes its way through congress. Also, the republicans hold the power right now anyway so they can deter Obama's zany madcap schemes all they want anyway. And it's just silly to repeal every law that was passed in the last 3 years. Just plain silly. You know, I just found out that if you mistype plain you can have palin. So I almost said it was just Palin silly, which also is appropriate. I think it synonymous or something, right?
He tried to argue my point but he just kept sounding crazier and I think he realized it, so then he said, don't you have some work to be doing so I can finish unloading this Sodium Hypochlorite or something?
I'm pretty sure that means I win. Right? I won? I never win so I have a hard time knowing when I do, it's such a foreign experience for me. It was a morning full of shock, because who would expect I would be debating American politics with a Birther Republican Canadian at 7:45 am on a Sunday morning. I honestly didn't even know that Birther Republican Canadians existed. And, now that I'm thinking on it, why does he even care? He's Canadian. Isn't it like a colder version of paradise up there or something?
The other thing I remember that I wanted to tell you is that the thunder this morning was crazy loud and long and rumbly. I thought Asher might wake up afraid but I was the only one up. Weird.
Monday, February 21, 2011
We'll end up numb from playing video games
A post on my day off? I know, it's amazing. But I am getting paid for today, so I figured the least I could do was post a quick little blog for those of you still working or who really like to read the nonsense I write down everyday.
So, if you read my facebook you already know I dug through a bag filled with viscera yesterday. I blame the TV show Castle with Nathan Fillian and Stana Katic. I love it. We have been watching it after we put Bear to bed every night since Ryan is sick and doesn't want to do anything but lay on the couch, with how the weather has been I have no objections. But, you know, they see weird murders all the time, so...
Anyway, I'm driving down the road in the outskirts of Middlefield when I spot a garbage bag with ribs sticking out tucked back behind a pile of dead grass on property owned by my employers. So, I push it into reverse and turn around to check out this bag.
Normally I'm used to seeing dead deer carcasses from when the snow first flies to when the tulips are up (hunters just seem to think that public property is the best place to drop their left over trophy kills) but usually they are not skinned and tied up in a garbage bag, so I figured I'd better check it out. I try to scope it from the car after I scare all the crows away but...it just can't be done. I have to get out and check. So I get out and spot a nice stick for poking and tearing holes in the garbage bag and I grab it. Right out of a pile of horse manure I didn't see was there. Good start, right? I thought so.
So, taking the non-poopy end of the stick I start trying to tear through the garbage bag to see more than just slightly exposed skinned ribs. It's hard work to do with a poopy stick, the garbage bag is a really good quality one. Anyway.. eventually I uncover that this body is cut into all sorts of large pieces. There's the pelvic bone, there's some parts of ribs, there's some guts. It is very hard to tell what kind of animal it is when it's all cut apart like that. And then frozen together. In a large garbage bag ball shape. Oh, and it still stunk to high heavens, even though it was frozen. Thank goodness it wasn't warmer I guess.
Anyway, the crows were getting agitated that I stole their all you can eat buffet from them and I was kind of tired of poking random body parts with a stick so I decided I'd take one more go at looking for hooves or a skull or something that would symbolize it as 'non-human' so I could just leave and stop poking dead things with sticks.
Dave asked me if there were serial killers on the loose in Amish Country. I told him there were hundreds, if you are a deer. It sounds kind of dumb now that I'm repeating it but it seemed amusing to me when it happened. I guess you had to be there.
Monday, February 7, 2011
I never fight to see if coming clean would get to me
I'm thinking about sharing a story with you today. Something from my childhood. Might be boring, sorry if it is.
So, it was one of my dad's weekends to have us over. We were driving some piece of shit car, if I remember it correctly it was an old cop car, a Crown Victoria (when we got it it still had the wire between the front and back seats and the back doors didn't have door handles on the insides), and it overheated and barely made it to my Aunt's house in Cleveland. She lived in a pretty bad neighborhood at that time, I remember a vacant lot behind her house filled with trash, broken bottles and needles. It was awesome. Don't get me wrong, this is probably my favorite aunt we are talking about, she was just not in a great place at that time. Where she lives now is a pretty nice neighborhood.
Oh, and I should preface this and say that my brother was probably four years old so that would make me about ten years old.
Anyway, we get to my aunt's house and hang out for a bit. Then it's time for my dad to get us home to my mom's house before the visitation curfew. He had tried half-assedly to fix our car but it wouldn't start at all. So, my aunt's husband at the time let us borrow his old Lincoln Towncar. Oh, did I mention we had our half breed german shepard Bear with us at the time, too? Big old dog. So, yes, we borrow my Uncle's Lincoln Towncar with soft velvety seats and power windows. This was a time when power windows were a luxury. At first I was so excited.
I think I failied to mention so far here, too, that my dad had been drinking non-stop for pretty much years before this. At this point in my life my dad was very depressed an undiagnosed (like currently) and had pretty much replaced all food and water with Gennesse beer. So...yeah, just keep that in mind for the car ride home.
My dad gets on the highway and he decides that it's a great time for me to learn how to drive a car. I'm going to need to know how to do it one day, he reasons with me, why not start today?
Now, I've always been a goodie-goodie and I've always been afraid to break the rules. (this is after my early childhood foray into breaking into cars and stealing stuff out of them with the neighborhood gang and after getting kidnapped once and almost getting kidnapped a second more scary time). So, I adamently argue with my father and he is swerving all over the road. I decide that the floor of the back seat is the best place to hide from my dad and his horrible driving, sure we are all going to die in a horribly fire explosion style 85 mile per hour luxury version death machine. He yells at me for a good five minutes and then remembers my brother is in the car.
"Michael, you're a man, right? A bigger man than your sister?" my father taunted me with, "come here, daddy will teach you how to drive. Since you aren't tall enough I'll work the breaks and gas for you." My brother was too young to know the consequences. He thought it was great fun, and I'm sure it was for him. I was so scared and upset, curled into a ball on the floor mats in the back behind the passenger seat, that I thought I would throw up. It also didn't help that a four year old drives a car like a freaking pinball machine with a broken tilt sensor. I seriously thought I was going to die. I don't know how we didn't get pulled over.
Finally we get to Streetsboro and we go to McDonald's for dinner. Unfortunatly for us, the Cheech and Chong radio bit about going through the drive thru was just on 97.5, my dad's favorite radio station, and he thought it would be hilarious to pull the radio prank on the McDonald's Drivethru. You know the one. (I tried to find it on youtube but I suck and don't know what it's called specifically, I could only find inaccurate spoofs that weren't even funny.)
Anyway, my dad pretends that he can't understand what the guy in the speaker is saying (you can understand him fine but the point was he was doing the cheech and chong skit where the box is just fuzzy and they keep having to repeat the order, 'cheeseburger, onion rings, large orange drink' over and over again. Well, the kid at the drive thru eventually has enough and tells my dad to pull forward after arguing with him that McDonald's does not serve onion rings and that they don't have orange pop, will a Coke suffice or does he want sprite? We pull up to the window and the kid has given us 8 orders of everything, 8 cheeseburgers, 8 large fries and 8 large pops in various flavors. And my dad, the jackass he was, still pretends he can't understand what the kid is saying, hands him a $20 and drives off.
He throws a cheeseburger on the seat next to me, for good measure.
Yeah. This is one of the reasons I didn't even have a sip of alcohol until my wedding.
So, it was one of my dad's weekends to have us over. We were driving some piece of shit car, if I remember it correctly it was an old cop car, a Crown Victoria (when we got it it still had the wire between the front and back seats and the back doors didn't have door handles on the insides), and it overheated and barely made it to my Aunt's house in Cleveland. She lived in a pretty bad neighborhood at that time, I remember a vacant lot behind her house filled with trash, broken bottles and needles. It was awesome. Don't get me wrong, this is probably my favorite aunt we are talking about, she was just not in a great place at that time. Where she lives now is a pretty nice neighborhood.
Oh, and I should preface this and say that my brother was probably four years old so that would make me about ten years old.
Anyway, we get to my aunt's house and hang out for a bit. Then it's time for my dad to get us home to my mom's house before the visitation curfew. He had tried half-assedly to fix our car but it wouldn't start at all. So, my aunt's husband at the time let us borrow his old Lincoln Towncar. Oh, did I mention we had our half breed german shepard Bear with us at the time, too? Big old dog. So, yes, we borrow my Uncle's Lincoln Towncar with soft velvety seats and power windows. This was a time when power windows were a luxury. At first I was so excited.
I think I failied to mention so far here, too, that my dad had been drinking non-stop for pretty much years before this. At this point in my life my dad was very depressed an undiagnosed (like currently) and had pretty much replaced all food and water with Gennesse beer. So...yeah, just keep that in mind for the car ride home.
My dad gets on the highway and he decides that it's a great time for me to learn how to drive a car. I'm going to need to know how to do it one day, he reasons with me, why not start today?
Now, I've always been a goodie-goodie and I've always been afraid to break the rules. (this is after my early childhood foray into breaking into cars and stealing stuff out of them with the neighborhood gang and after getting kidnapped once and almost getting kidnapped a second more scary time). So, I adamently argue with my father and he is swerving all over the road. I decide that the floor of the back seat is the best place to hide from my dad and his horrible driving, sure we are all going to die in a horribly fire explosion style 85 mile per hour luxury version death machine. He yells at me for a good five minutes and then remembers my brother is in the car.
"Michael, you're a man, right? A bigger man than your sister?" my father taunted me with, "come here, daddy will teach you how to drive. Since you aren't tall enough I'll work the breaks and gas for you." My brother was too young to know the consequences. He thought it was great fun, and I'm sure it was for him. I was so scared and upset, curled into a ball on the floor mats in the back behind the passenger seat, that I thought I would throw up. It also didn't help that a four year old drives a car like a freaking pinball machine with a broken tilt sensor. I seriously thought I was going to die. I don't know how we didn't get pulled over.
Finally we get to Streetsboro and we go to McDonald's for dinner. Unfortunatly for us, the Cheech and Chong radio bit about going through the drive thru was just on 97.5, my dad's favorite radio station, and he thought it would be hilarious to pull the radio prank on the McDonald's Drivethru. You know the one. (I tried to find it on youtube but I suck and don't know what it's called specifically, I could only find inaccurate spoofs that weren't even funny.)
Anyway, my dad pretends that he can't understand what the guy in the speaker is saying (you can understand him fine but the point was he was doing the cheech and chong skit where the box is just fuzzy and they keep having to repeat the order, 'cheeseburger, onion rings, large orange drink' over and over again. Well, the kid at the drive thru eventually has enough and tells my dad to pull forward after arguing with him that McDonald's does not serve onion rings and that they don't have orange pop, will a Coke suffice or does he want sprite? We pull up to the window and the kid has given us 8 orders of everything, 8 cheeseburgers, 8 large fries and 8 large pops in various flavors. And my dad, the jackass he was, still pretends he can't understand what the kid is saying, hands him a $20 and drives off.
He throws a cheeseburger on the seat next to me, for good measure.
Yeah. This is one of the reasons I didn't even have a sip of alcohol until my wedding.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
At the tip of my tongue is the price you weren't willing to pay
Hmm...Asher woke up with a nightmare at like 4:45 am this morning and refused to go back to sleep. I'm pretty tired.
Fencing was fun. I think I've talked Ry into trying it, too. I found that I'm really really uncoordinated. I can do simple things no problem but when you combine moves...well, that's when I look like a lumbering idiot. Oh well. My class is me, my bro, the vic and three fifth graders. The one boy is soooo short, it feels like I'm picking on him. I mean, who else is allowed to hit other people's children with swords? Bullies. And me. The best is to see The Vic, who's probably the tallest person I know (if we were urkins he'd be in charge) paired up with this kid who's probably like 4 feet tall at the most. I kind of doubt he's even that tall, honestly.
How about a story today?
Hmm...something from my childhood? What are you in the mood to hear about? Good or bad?
Ah, I have a story for you now.
So, I was 16 years old which would make my brother 10 years old. In the summertime we would stay our days at my grandpa Pumpa's farm and work for him, weeding and planting and rototilling, braiding garlic and fun stuff like that. We were taking a break and I went to go into the house to get some drinks for us, a "medicine" (natty light) for Pumpa, Coke for The Shig and lemonade for me.
There are these old limestone blocks, probably 2 feet long, a foot wide and a foot tall that line the flowerbed next to the house on the way to the steps, three in a line to the steps to the house which at the time were also limestone slabs. A game I used to play was to jump up on one, down on the next, and then up again on the next one and then jump the steps onto the porch.
It hadn't been raining or anything, the rocks weren't wet, I really don't know what happened but I slipped on the first rock and fell hard. I hit my head under my chin on the limestone slab and fell immediately unconscious. A minute later I came to but I couldn't think straight and I couldn't get up. I tried to call for my brother (because Pumpa is pretty hard of hearing) and eventually he heard me and got my grandpa.
I really don't think either of them knew what to do. My grandpa made me go take a bath to wash off all the blood. I sat dazed in the bathtub, still unsure of what was going on. I remember finally understanding what it meant to see 'stars' or 'birdies' cause I saw them the entire bathtime. And I remember thinking that it was pretty funny at the time, too, that I saw stars. I remember trying to grab them because I wanted to keep them for later.
Then they called my mom. She came and picked me up, still covered in blood because I didn't have a change of clothes, and took me to the ER where they glued the holes in my lip together (I had completely bitten through the skin under my lip twice) and X-rayed my head. I wish I knew you could ask to keep those, I would love to have an xray of my head. But I didn't, and I wasn't really thinking straight then anyway.
Lucky me, no concusion.
Anyway, I guess that was a pretty boring story but it's mine and there you go. Maybe I'll write a better one tomorrow.
Fencing was fun. I think I've talked Ry into trying it, too. I found that I'm really really uncoordinated. I can do simple things no problem but when you combine moves...well, that's when I look like a lumbering idiot. Oh well. My class is me, my bro, the vic and three fifth graders. The one boy is soooo short, it feels like I'm picking on him. I mean, who else is allowed to hit other people's children with swords? Bullies. And me. The best is to see The Vic, who's probably the tallest person I know (if we were urkins he'd be in charge) paired up with this kid who's probably like 4 feet tall at the most. I kind of doubt he's even that tall, honestly.
How about a story today?
Hmm...something from my childhood? What are you in the mood to hear about? Good or bad?
Ah, I have a story for you now.
So, I was 16 years old which would make my brother 10 years old. In the summertime we would stay our days at my grandpa Pumpa's farm and work for him, weeding and planting and rototilling, braiding garlic and fun stuff like that. We were taking a break and I went to go into the house to get some drinks for us, a "medicine" (natty light) for Pumpa, Coke for The Shig and lemonade for me.
There are these old limestone blocks, probably 2 feet long, a foot wide and a foot tall that line the flowerbed next to the house on the way to the steps, three in a line to the steps to the house which at the time were also limestone slabs. A game I used to play was to jump up on one, down on the next, and then up again on the next one and then jump the steps onto the porch.
It hadn't been raining or anything, the rocks weren't wet, I really don't know what happened but I slipped on the first rock and fell hard. I hit my head under my chin on the limestone slab and fell immediately unconscious. A minute later I came to but I couldn't think straight and I couldn't get up. I tried to call for my brother (because Pumpa is pretty hard of hearing) and eventually he heard me and got my grandpa.
I really don't think either of them knew what to do. My grandpa made me go take a bath to wash off all the blood. I sat dazed in the bathtub, still unsure of what was going on. I remember finally understanding what it meant to see 'stars' or 'birdies' cause I saw them the entire bathtime. And I remember thinking that it was pretty funny at the time, too, that I saw stars. I remember trying to grab them because I wanted to keep them for later.
Then they called my mom. She came and picked me up, still covered in blood because I didn't have a change of clothes, and took me to the ER where they glued the holes in my lip together (I had completely bitten through the skin under my lip twice) and X-rayed my head. I wish I knew you could ask to keep those, I would love to have an xray of my head. But I didn't, and I wasn't really thinking straight then anyway.
Lucky me, no concusion.
Anyway, I guess that was a pretty boring story but it's mine and there you go. Maybe I'll write a better one tomorrow.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Dai kirai no boku ju kisai, dai kirai no kao ju kisai
I did hate myself at 19. I continue to hate myself at 29. Not much has changed. (translation from the title: I hate myself at 19, I hate my face at 19)
Hmm...more stories? I can give you another story from the sampling trip with B from the lab.
So, we were talking about his younger days (he is in his golden years now). He is a weird guy, and from what I garner, he has always been a weird guy. Anyway.
So, his parents were not entirely committed to raising a child much less children and he traveled around a lot a kid. He was in Boston, Hawaii, California, Ohio, Tennessee, and Kentuckty from what I've heard so far. Anyway, this little segment of his life is from when he was a teenager. His parents had sent him to military school in Kentucky, I guess the same place they trained foriegn insurgent children as well. In military school the rules are rigid. You get caught fighting, you go home. You steal, you go home, you cheat you go home, etc, etc, etc. You get the idea. Except if you were one of these foreign insurgents. Then you were encouraged to do all of the above and didn't get in trouble for it.
*a little caveat, I don't know how much B is making up and how much is true. I'm very gullible and I don't often know when people are really making shit up, this seems like it could have all happened to B, like I said, he's a weird guy. So, take this with a grain of salt.
Anyway, one of these guys steals from B and he tries to turn them in to the authorites. This is when he learns they have diplomatic immunity. So he does what any angry boy does, he fights them and gets kicked out of military school. One of his friends at home, his uncles are in some Polish Gestapo group (this is well after the war, B isn't that old) and so B, feeling that the establishment has screwed him and is corrupt, well, listens to what they have to say about facism. And he likes it.
So the obvious next course is to join the Junior Nazi Party. Obviously. He told me he wasn't all about the persecution and slaughter that was affiliated with the Nazi party and that that was just a faction of it not the founding principal. And besides, he says, it wasn't even the biggest holocaust of people but it is the most sensationalized. It has good PR. Which, I agree to a point, Stalin and Polpot did a good job of killing lots of people, too. They just weren't so proud about it that they made such a big deal about it. Like, 'hey, look over here, hey look! aren't you proud? Look at all this human suffering! Aren't I the most evilist? Yes I am!' You know.
I think he finally outgrew his Jr. Nazi Party desires as he got older but he doesn't regret it. He told me that the Nazi Party would have been accepted in the 70s but some skinheads messed it up. Stupid skinheads, they always ruin the fun, don't they?
Anyway, not a great story but an interesting insight to someone you don't know's life.
Video? Yes. Same video as the lyric in the title? Certianly.
Hmm...more stories? I can give you another story from the sampling trip with B from the lab.
So, we were talking about his younger days (he is in his golden years now). He is a weird guy, and from what I garner, he has always been a weird guy. Anyway.
So, his parents were not entirely committed to raising a child much less children and he traveled around a lot a kid. He was in Boston, Hawaii, California, Ohio, Tennessee, and Kentuckty from what I've heard so far. Anyway, this little segment of his life is from when he was a teenager. His parents had sent him to military school in Kentucky, I guess the same place they trained foriegn insurgent children as well. In military school the rules are rigid. You get caught fighting, you go home. You steal, you go home, you cheat you go home, etc, etc, etc. You get the idea. Except if you were one of these foreign insurgents. Then you were encouraged to do all of the above and didn't get in trouble for it.
*a little caveat, I don't know how much B is making up and how much is true. I'm very gullible and I don't often know when people are really making shit up, this seems like it could have all happened to B, like I said, he's a weird guy. So, take this with a grain of salt.
Anyway, one of these guys steals from B and he tries to turn them in to the authorites. This is when he learns they have diplomatic immunity. So he does what any angry boy does, he fights them and gets kicked out of military school. One of his friends at home, his uncles are in some Polish Gestapo group (this is well after the war, B isn't that old) and so B, feeling that the establishment has screwed him and is corrupt, well, listens to what they have to say about facism. And he likes it.
So the obvious next course is to join the Junior Nazi Party. Obviously. He told me he wasn't all about the persecution and slaughter that was affiliated with the Nazi party and that that was just a faction of it not the founding principal. And besides, he says, it wasn't even the biggest holocaust of people but it is the most sensationalized. It has good PR. Which, I agree to a point, Stalin and Polpot did a good job of killing lots of people, too. They just weren't so proud about it that they made such a big deal about it. Like, 'hey, look over here, hey look! aren't you proud? Look at all this human suffering! Aren't I the most evilist? Yes I am!' You know.
I think he finally outgrew his Jr. Nazi Party desires as he got older but he doesn't regret it. He told me that the Nazi Party would have been accepted in the 70s but some skinheads messed it up. Stupid skinheads, they always ruin the fun, don't they?
Anyway, not a great story but an interesting insight to someone you don't know's life.
Video? Yes. Same video as the lyric in the title? Certianly.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Creepy Haunted House of Burny Carnage
So, Basil bought a house in Southington, Ohio. It's pretty much the middle of nowhere. He got a really good deal on it, it was one of those Kiko Auction houses.
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| Creepy. Reminds me of the movie, The Ring. Can't you just see the little girls brushing their hair? |
I went sampling with Basil from the lab yesterday. We had lots of interesting conversation and I got to see his burned down house. Now I'm sharing with you.
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| The light fixtures really fascinated me for some reason |
So, Basil bought a house in Southington, Ohio. It's pretty much the middle of nowhere. He got a really good deal on it, it was one of those Kiko Auction houses. The woman who lost the house (I guess when you stop paying stuff you owe lots of money on then the bank gets to sell it for you and keep the money. Go figure...) was not happy about the whole proceedings. So, like any logical person finding themselves in this situation she moved out and went on with her life someplace else.
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| The kitchen. I really like how the walls are bleeding plastic goo above where the cabinets were. |
Oh, wait, I lied. She burned it down. I think she put the toaster in the sink, something like that. Now, mind you, I'm not sure if this was ever proven or not but she pretty much told Basil that if he didn't back out of the deal that she would burn the house down, and then the house burned down. Hmm...strange coincidence, that.
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| This is the parlor into the bathroom, I couldn't get the shower head to show up in the pic for some reason, lighting I suppose. |
Anyway. So, this last picture is pretty cool, I was trying to take a picture of the bathroom through the old parlor. There is no floor in the parlor, though, so I had to do it from the hallway so of course there wasn't enough light to get a good picture. If you look in this picture there is this copper wiring hanging in the way. The wire kept moving every time I tried to take the picture, it was pretty creepy now that I think about it. It wasn't swinging back and forth or anything like that, but when I went to snap the picture, it would move. Sway a little bit.
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| Do you see the crazy freaking zebras in this picture? |
I took about 28 pictures of this house and they are all on my facebook if you'd like to see them. I am pretty sure this house is haunted. There are weird spots on the pictures in some places. Now, if it was junk on my camera (it was raining/snowing that day) it would have stayed in the same place on the pictures, right? Well, the three balls move around on the pictures. These are not a good representation because the balls are not on all of these pictures. So, it's either ghosts, reflections from moisture in the air, crazy refraction from burny pieces in the house, magical disco balls, swamp gas, house spirits, or zebras. You be the judge.
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