I am writing this post for two very unimportant reasons. One of which is to complain about my wrecked car in hopes that someone will have pity on me and come pick me up tomorrow afternoon and drive me to Ann Arbor (I'll pay for the gas) to Caitlin and Prizio's party, thus saving me from sitting at home crying in my room to bring in the new year.
The other reason for this post is to mention Hillsdale College. Hillsdale College is where I will be going back to in a couple weeks.

At the Heyman Christmas:

Ate deepfried turkey

Played much euchre

And heard many entertaining new stories, probably the best of which involed my grandfather on a plane with other ohio farmers, Bob Evans of the restaurant fame, and a couple priests, circling over the snow covered Amarillo Air Port, draining the plane's entire supply of alcohol.

Thoughts on Christmas

I just returned from midnight mass. I have decided to make it my family tradition.
My mother said that she went to midnight mass with dad when they were dating, and thought it was "totally awesome"and that the music was "heavenly", and had all kinds of questions afterward, like, "what's with the people in robes swinging the smokey thingies?" To which dad responded, "That's incense." and mom said, "but it smelled fine in here already." Or, "why did you do that before you went in the pew?" Response: "that's called genuflecting, it's what you are supposed to do."

The incarnation is not something to be "believed" or "thought" or understood. It is not some intellectual proposition to take pride in. That is, it is not something to be held in your cerebral cortex. It is something to feel, hold in your heart, something that brings tears, goosebumbs, cold sweat, weak knees, and penitence.

If I am ever alone on Christmas day, I plan to spend it weeping.


Merry Christmas

On Returning Home

I rolled into the driveway about 1pm yesterday, well, I guess technically the day before it. No one was home, and I didn't feel like carrying all my stuff all by myself, so I smoked a cigarette, and walked around the lightly powdered yard. I came across the boxelder tree, and the memories began to run into my head without warning, not unlike a low branch.

This was the first tree I had ever climbed, I saw the familiar coarse chunk of bark that was large enough to make a perfect first step at one time. The only big limb left on the tree is the same one that had held up the tire swing that swung about a foot off the ground except that time Levi and Ivan put me in it, and twisted the rope up until I was at least five feet from the ground, then let it go, and I swung so fast I couldn't bend my neck or my knees.

The same branch that held the tire swing held Levi until he jumped and broke his foot, cast shade on the teeter-totter, has grown around a rusty old dog chain that has held Fritz, Nellie, Inky, and Molly.

A quarter of the way around the trunk from this branch is a sort of pocket, I would guess about a ten gallon hole, though it is not water-proof, Andy and I tested it back in the day, and much to our youthful surprise and awe, the water ran out in several places all around the trunk.

This pocket was a favorite hiding place for unwanted trash, such as the wrappers from the Freeze-Pop's that we stole from the basement freezer, and about ten years later, cigarette butts, so I threw mine in, and went in the house to put on some coffee and begin carrying my things in.

I did that, took a shower, and read until about 4:30 when my mom pulls in the driveway, honking the horn on my parents new car (that's not actually it, but it is the same model and color, and is totally sweet with stuff like voice recognition, and 300 horsepower), so I grab my coffee cup and throw on my coat to go check out the new caddy.

I get one foot out the back door and mom yells, "The tree's on fire!!"

And sure enough eight foot flames.

I'll be leaving for home from Hillsdale in a few minutes. The snow has stopped for now, it should be a pleasant drive. Over break I plan to work on the farm and read a lot. I'm looking forward to sweating in the snow and reading in the parlor. And some time over break I plan to write a post on Dan's conversion. Everyone enjoy the holidays.

smoking outside the fifth third, opened the door for an old six legged man

half cigarette later

--Because you were so nice to me I'm gonna give you a tip.
--oh no, no, it's fine. both palms out.
--No. smile, I'm not going to give you any money, just a tip.
--oh
--I use' ta smoke two packs and a pipe, and them things damn near killed me. smile
--oh, unfinished cig back-flipping to the asphalt.
--thank you very much, he said.
--thank you

Finals

This semester has been like a mud bog. I am the truck.
By now the truck has given up the exaggerated back and forth rocking that produced hare-like movements. Has given it up in favor of a steady application of half throttle. The cab is filled with choking rubber smoke and steam. The drone of the engine is contrasted by the screeching wine of the tires that have found their way through the slop to the hard slick clay base underneath. Both axles are pushing growing glob-like mounds of mud that is spilling over in front of the tires. The tires are eating away at these excesses and tossing them on the crowd and the truck itself. The tortoise-like movement has lost all momentum, and slows exponentially, but there's only a couple feet left.

liquid theses leaves
and faeces worried
sidewalk splattered partnership

nightly windows
wire tied notes
holly tree monotony

spoked hearts
playing laughs
formed w/o the fire pillow

mourning noon knifed
mass encroachment
glow the oak the oxygen

shuffled shoes
delt the death
of hidden foiled diamonds

cracked vinyl
still unfaded
saying half the meaning

when does it end?
do we ever find it?
whatever it is, where is it?


Recently someone asked me what I was going to do when I "grew up." I told him/her "whatever I can do." I learned from my father (who has hated his job for as long as i can remember) to find what is important to you and do whatever it takes to do it. I decided about two years ago that that was not some job, some career. I also learned from my father that while jobs can be torture, while they can be something you dread everyday, you can still have something more important, that you can "work" toward, and then you can put up with anything.
Like my father, I have decided that to me the most important thing is not a job, but a family. And that is why I will do whatever I can do.
Am I wrong to think this? Am I just fooling myself?

oups-->


I have a vivid memory (I think I was four or five) of walking down the tar and chipped road. It was hot. I was popping the little tar bubbles with my velcro shoes, remembering how gramma told us papap would let her and her brothers chew on tar when they were little, when I saw orange spraypainted letters on the edge of the road. I stopped, turned at the base of the letters and sounded out the word. "O-U-P-S" with an arrow at the end. I thought maybe I'd learn what that meant when I was older, I still don't know.

Written on the Back of My Hand(for real this time)

Wonderful
windows
forgotten



broken longing.



want you w/out you


(and on my wrist): I'm sorry

Alone In the Cold

There aren't many things i enjoy more than being alone outside in the cold at night trying to remind myself how good my life really is(or convince myself how bad it really is). I just spent an hour in the arboretum using the soft cold to distract my mind. It was good, but i felt alone, so i came back.

Written on the back of my hand with my eyes closed

tonight in the night i went to the way of the dying darkness to be the only one alive sorta but the mean one in the grey was there and didn't like me more than the worrying ofnowrunningandtheniwascoldandwantingdyingbutitwasn'twhatweneverallthetimenorohboringthesmokeicethecakeofmorningforthedeadallweevernevernightanddeathtobelonginnowherebutican'tcry

Today I walked into the women's bathroom on accident. Everything that is normally blue was yellow; I would've expected pink.

less than an hour ago the thought of celibacy blew into my mind and for a split second just a split of a second for the first time in twenty years (that's forever for me) i entertained it

the only thing that i was absolutely sure of that i had never questioned was that i wanted/was going to get married. even as a little kid when all of my peers swore they wouldn't be joined to "one of them" (forever) ever, i would risk what was my prepubescent masculinity just to disagree w/ them.

the times when i lose all my desires, my desire for marriage/meaning/companionship/love/whatever you wanna call it was always the last one to go and the first one to come back. those times didn't affect me like it did today, b/c i always attributed the lack of that desire to the slough (of despond that i was in at the time) But today was different
and
scary

...oh well it was only for a split second, no big

Possibly the Best Birthday Ever

Besides the fact that I found out that 30% of my history grade is due the day after tomorrow instead of a week from the day after tomorrow, I had a very nice birthday. I haven't really celebrated my Birthday in 3 or 4 years, and it has always seemed like not a big deal, and my birthday always comes right after Thanksgiving break, so the word usually doesn't get out. Niki asked me when it was like a month ago, and she remembered, and, I guess, told a ton of people. So anyway, Thanks, Dan, Niki, George, Mary, Bridget, Lee, John, Prosp3ct, Racheal, Will, Crystal, Mike, and everyone else.