words, words, words
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If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?
P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.
raisin@gmail.com
albums:
Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
songs:
Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork
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Tuesday, June 15, 2004
I told my dad I would play football on the way to church, an evening about three weeks before high school started. I convinced myself I would play through high school and college, that i would get an athletic scholarship, that this was the best choice. I felt sheepish telling him, giving in to him after such a long time - I didn't even get the $300 he had tried to bribe me with the year before. I told him from the back seat, where I couldn't see his face. He took care of the rest, and I started practice soon afterwards. Kirk, a guy I had known from seventh grade football, asked me why I was there. I had confided to him during the last year that I hated football and never wanted to play again. I looked at him and shrugged, too ashamed to tell him why I was there, too convinced by my dad to stand up for myself.
August in Oklahoma is hot. Sweat from the heat inside my helmet would roll down into my eyes, burn my contacts. Practice was bad enough; i still did my best to hide, stay in the back of the line, get out of the scrimages, just stand around and watch if I could. I would dread it all day though. From the time I woke up, I knew that practice was coming. Around 5th period, I would start to get nervous and quiet. Quiet. I was quiet about why I played to friends who looked at me and said you're a nice guy, you're not a football player. I tried to be hollow, so they couldn't see what was inside me. i just kept my mouth shut. i didn't have many friends anyway - i didn't trust anyone and mostly kept to myself. I never talked to the football guys, not really on the field or off the field. The first year was the hardest.
I can't tell the stories on the football field. full of hitting drills, and more hitting drills, hitting other guys, hitting the pads, hitting other guys. i don't want to relive the memories. I don't want to feel ashamed - I hated being the biggest, strongest guy out there (by the time I was 14, a freshman, I was the size I am today, 6'2" and 200 pounds) and not knowing what to do with it. i couldn't hit hard, I couldn't get myself to move past my fear and my reluctance. I knew that I should have been the best. And so did my coaches. But I could sprint. I loved it. I was faster than most of the guys on the team. As a defensive lineman, only a few guys on the team were faster at a 40 yard dash than I was. I loved to push myself in sprinting. It hurt my quads with that I'm so fast feeling. And sprints were at the end of the practice, so I knew no more hitting would follow.
I threw the shot-put on the track team in the off-season and lifted weights with my dad at Bally's. I hated the music they played there, songs like Can you Take me High Enough, etc. but I gained even more strength. At the end of my freshman year, I was back in the football lockerroom, moving our lockers, and had an encounter with a senior guy. He was insulting and pushing around a friend of mine, one of the only guys I liked on the football team. I'd like to say i beat the guy up or somehow caused some dramatic scene where I finally figured out what to do with my strength. But, i think I actually did something better. I told the senior to stop it and got in the way, offering myself up instead. the guy picked me up from behind and held me, like he wanted to crush me or something. Then he let go and walked away. Probably the only 'fight' I've ever been in. but i won, and nobody threw a punch.
2:21 PM
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