Wednesday, January 17, 2007

More Pictures of Home

Long ago, I was a teenager. This is where I spent four years of it. Pretty, no? It is lovely. Very art deco, certainly nicer than any of the other schools in town. Unfortunate that we are known as the Redskins. *sigh* There is even a terrible war dance/cheer that I will not describe.

Since my worst years were in middle school, I have fond memories of high school. It was not perfect, I was not Homecoming Queen (robbed!), and I certainly had a long list of adversities (wah wah wah, but that hasn't changed), but it was nice enough. And I've kept some lovely mementos from that time, like yearbooks, poems (funniest shite ever), and two gay boyfriends who I love like sunshine and kittens.

This is the tallest building in my hometown. Isn't it cute? Don't you want to dress it up and make it tea? So teeny and bitty.

Finally, my grandparents old place. Oh the drama. I lived here during the absolute worst year. There were yellow roses on the wall. I spent my time blasting Wham! or Queen's Night at the Opera (see? problems) and trying to think up new and convincing ailments that would keep me home and away from the Bad Place. This is where I learned that the thermometer against the lightbulb trick does not work. Thanks, Steven Speilberg, you poot.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Method Sleeping

I was doing my usual thing at 7:30 this morning, sitting in the corner of the subway car, eyes tight shut, and trying to let myself go to the happy place. The happy place is anything that keeps me from thinking "imonthetrainimonthetrainthepeoplethepeoplefuckfuckfuck" which is my new thing, also known as Stark Fucking Crazy. We could discuss it at length, but let's not. I managed to tuck myself into the safest place I know (my head is amazingly quiet and empty although I sometimes hear lost miners crying "echo!" because they are lost and because they are imaginary), and that is the most important thing: I just need to get to work, earn my living, and live in peace. The reasons for my unexpected diversion into Crazytown will simply have to wait.

What got me to the happy place also almost made me burst into tears (which would have been wonderful for the other subway patrons, especially since I appeared to be asleep), but I have to say that repeating the refrain on a loop (loony loop? crazytown? these are not my underwear? i know he's autistic - shut up. it still sounds crazy) did the trick. I was in a calm doze for the last half of the trip and that is what counts.

What got me there? First, let me just say that I have been down with ee cummings for EVER. Say what you want (hack, egomaniac, poet) but he's alright by me. I studied him, so I can't believe it would take a "chick flick" to highlight this one, and why it knocks me out and makes me cry is really for me to know. That's that. But here it is; it is the truth, and I mean every word:

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
ee cummings (1958)

Monday, January 08, 2007

Holy Ghost Claims: Oogie Boogie Boogie

I LOVE LOVE LOVE going home. There are too many reasons, but here are a few:
  1. That is where I keep my homies.
  2. I get to drive the truck.
  3. People are friendly for no reason at all.
  4. Jesus, whether he likes it or not, is In'a House, boyeee.

For instance, here is my favorite church in Wichita. There is another, prettier church for the Orthodox Catholics, but the church pictured here has been around before I was born. I used to be in awe of its majesty. Look at it! But it never occurred to me until this very trip to question the fact that the Holy Ghost is, in fact, an actual boogity ghost. Complete with white sheet and holes cut out for the eyes by Holy Ghost's working mom who was, apparently, too tired to sew a cat costume.

Now you are in awe, too.