Tuesday, April 26, 2011

I have decided to use labels on my posts whenever I sense a theme emerging.  So far there is one theme but I anticipate a veritable cornucopia of labels to follow.




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Ode to Gorilla Tape





strong reinforced backing
tough all-weather shell
double-thick adhesive
you fill the gaps
in rough, uneven surfaces
for super strong bite





Thursday, April 21, 2011

The order in which I hate the Baldwin brothers from least to most.

4.  Billy Baldwin

3.  Alec Baldwin

2.  Daniel Baldwin

1.  Stephen Baldwin



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Sunday, April 17, 2011

i never wanted water once.

A red-tailed hawk crash landed in my yard the other day.  The dogs went wild hurling themselves against the patio window, as if a red-tailed hawk couldn't swallow any of them in a single bite.  But only a healthy hawk.  Something was probably wrong with this one because red-tailed hawks don't normally land on the ground like that.  He sat awhile looking stunned, and I and four dogs stared at him waiting to see what he would do.  Eventually he seemed to recover and flew away leaving the garden littered with feathers.

This happened in the middle of the afternoon at a time when I would normally be at work.  But I had to take the day off, the whole day, to see my doctor.  The school district doesn't allow partial absences, so it's a whole day off to go to a ten minute appointment.  Not only that but this appointment wasn't even a real appointment.  I don't want to brag but my doctor must really like hanging out with me because he makes me come in, in person, to tell me nothing is wrong.


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This week T wrote to me and signed off with the word Peep; which stirred something but I do not know what.  It's one of those memories that is too vague to do more with than to say I know that it used to mean something important.  But whatever it once meant, it obviously doesn't mean that anymore, because I cannot retrieve it.

And strangely enough I also heard from Dave and Jason, who were two of my best friends when I was in high school.  We used to go to the airport or the university in the middle of the night because these were the only places that were open all hours.  And talk about ideas for the books we were going to write, and talk about books we had read.  (Teenagers gone wild.)

And I was perplexed by the fact I remember them better than I remember T, who should be the one I remember the most.  They are sharp and clear and T is a fuzzy lint ball.  Interesting.


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A counsellor at my school is sick and I have been asked to fill in for her until she recovers.  Now because I will be spending my days in an office talking not only with teenagers but also with parents and administrators, I am supposed to dress, and behave, like an adult.  (When I am spending my days in the dingy theatre no one expects much.)  This is unfortunate.

On Friday afternoon my principal appeared in the theatre to ask me if I would do this.  And while we were talking about it, a student showed up who had been on vacation and missed several weeks of my class.  I was hoping he would make me look good by appearing concerned about his grades, but instead he reached into his backpack and pulled out an array of barf bags he had collected from various airlines for me.  This started out years ago as a joke, kids bringing me barf bags, but it has become legendary.  Kids I don't even teach now bring me barf bags from around the world.  The walls of my office are wallpapered with them.  The principal looked a little like she wanted to use one of those bags.  I don't think this exchange instilled much confidence in my ability to be an adult for a little while.


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Saturday, April 09, 2011

like a simile I paint suggestive pictures of me and you

When I have too much coffee my chattering mind always takes me back to the Husky House where Jesse sits across the table from me in his thin t-shirt through which his shoulder blades are so plainly visible.  Soap-tasting coffee, and fluorescence, and spilled sugar.  I drag my finger through spilled sugar, trying to trace his outline.  The woman who refills our cups is named Tweety.  Her name tag says so.  We don't comment.  This is not the kind of time when you can make jokes.  I wonder why this night is so deeply burned into my psyche.  Her lipstick bleeds into the lines around her mouth.  

Jesse was here, back in my life again, for about four weeks this summer.  He is gone again.  He always leaves.  This time he was not so emaciated.  This time it was my sister who had died.  Jesse is not a fuck-buddy, he is a funeral buddy, and this has been the root of our intimacy.  Fucking was incidental.  (I sometimes wish I could still see it this way now.)  When I was twenty-four Jesse told me that being close to me was like trying to hug a fire.



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Wednesday, April 06, 2011

memories will rust and erode into lists

He asked if there was something to mark the ending and I said there was not.  No cake? he joked.  (He has not known me very long.)  I said nothing.  I mean I said the word nothing, not that I did not speak.

He said maybe a kite instead.  And this piqued my interest far more than cake.  But this time I said nothing, not the word nothing, just waited.  He said I'll tell you something about kites.  If you like.  He could not possibly have known that I already know a thing or two about kites.  I wanted to hear what he was going to say about kites but we were disconnected.  I did not call him back; he did not call me either.   I put down the phone and thought awhile about kites. And endings.  

It's different when things end and we know it.  Then there is the opportunity to mark the occasion.  Cake, funeral, kite.  But the important endings, the ones that you will look back on as significant milestones or significant losses are usually the ones you weren't even aware were happening until it was too late for that kind of acknowledgement. 


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Saturday, April 02, 2011


  • Luke T
    The world will miss you, Malcolm Jamal Warner.

       Yesterday at 7:36am via Mobile Web ·  
      •            Thomas C  He's not dead
        Yesterday at 3:11pm ·

      •            Luke T   Thomas, you ate half my jar of fucking         
                   peanut butter. You owe me a jar of organic 
                   spread.
        Yesterday at 3:58pm · 

      •            Thomas C  No I didn't, I made like one 
                   sandwich.
        Yesterday at 5:37pm