last night
i need to change. toughen up, care less, be productive, get addicted. i have a love of doing things people hate me for. cutting, smoking, talking about buying that stupid motorcycle. i love it. every good kid wants to play the badass sometime.
strangest thing happened yesterday. my family was shopping on the waterfront in morehead so i was either walking behind them or sitting on a bench outside waiting for them to leave some frilly shop. the first place we stopped was actually my favorite. a small bookstore with a whale on the front. i love bookstores almost as much as libraries and just walked around looking at all that had to offer, making mental notes to check out certain titles and trying to change the advertisement-box music to something besides instrumental versions of disco songs. we were just leaving, my dad motioned to me from the door and as i was setting a book down and walking out, a couple walked in. some curly-haired boy with a short blonde girl. she tugged him upstairs and i caught but the slightest glance of them. i had the feeling i had seen them before but i couldn't figure it out until i was outside walking away. looking back, i'm almost certain it was a friend of mine from high school and her fiance, the wedding which i would love to go to later this summer but absolutely can't, the rsvp i had just written last week when they were supposedly in honduras building houses or something. i swear it was them. i don't know if she recognized me or not.
i'm sitting in the dark watching the last of an espn classic instant replay of the mexico/argentina cup game from last week. it's already in the 104th minute, and already over, as maxi rodriguez got his amazing volley goal about six minutes ago. fun dream last night. i was playing hockey for the canes on this 1/4 size rink with the format of an indoor soccer field. this is to say the goal was six feet high, eight or so feet wide, and built into the wall. there were no fans, just the bench and the ice and a couple players. i never really played much but the coach sent me out there and as there was a scrum in front of the goal i would hang back until the puck squirted out from the corner and i would swoop in from the side and backhand it past the keeper. i freaked, of course. once, i think, i had a wide open net, wide fucking open, and shot and it hit the boards beside the goal and shot again and it hit above, and shot again and missed again and again and i kept chasing it down and slapping at the puck {even in the dream i couldn't wield a stick worth a shit}. i knew people were chasing me down and it was so fucking scared because i was supposed to score with this wide open net but i couldn't, although i finally finessed it in. the coach reminded me that i wasn't particularly playing my position but i managed to cut back and find another loose puck on the left side and slip it in backhand too, at which point the coach figured out why i was doing so well. apparently, there was no skate on my boots and i was just running around, giving me {supposedly} easier motion. i hadn't even realized. after the team left for the locker rooms, and in order to look like one of the most determined players the coach had ever seen, i stayed behind and skated the short rink in figure eight's over and over while the assistant coach stood watching. every time i would take the curve at the end i would take it as sharp as i could and lean over as far as i could, testing how much my skate would bite into the ice, as if i were leaning a motorcycle into the apex of a hairpin.
there was also a dream about a house party with many good friends from high school and college which mostly involved the roof of the house and jumping off at one particular point. apparently, everyone did it but i was fucking scared because it really looked like i was going to break my leg if i tried but i might have anyway. in another a deceased dog of mine {who i guess came back to life for the dream} escaped from our backyard and ran away up into the cow field behind the house, leading my family and i to go search the field at night for her doggie coat. in another, there was some kind of restaurant in winston, italian, supposedly five-star but not really. i may or may not have been helping the owner set it up and testing the food or coming with my friends when it wasn't busy or not. i don't really remember much about that one. one of those travelling dreams, really, where i move around a lot and only have little vignettes with each locale.
there's still a good ten minutes left in the game. i wish i was lionel messi, must be fun to be talented like that. watching all this football, i get delusional. i miss playing although i still doubt, even if i practiced, that i could handle the ball like that, shoot like that, play like that. although i convince myself that if i bought a ball that held air and practiced footwork in my backyard until i got it right and drove to the park to shoot on goal over and over and ran a couple miles every morning so i wouldn't die if i played a game... that i might even be good enough to play club ball at school. high school was something i will never forget and always miss but college ball seems so much tougher. but, i guess, doing those things is what makes everyone great. i just doubt, knowing myself, that i will ever actually do anything, considering all the other shit that goes on.
but i have to be up in under nine hours to drive home.
strangest thing happened yesterday. my family was shopping on the waterfront in morehead so i was either walking behind them or sitting on a bench outside waiting for them to leave some frilly shop. the first place we stopped was actually my favorite. a small bookstore with a whale on the front. i love bookstores almost as much as libraries and just walked around looking at all that had to offer, making mental notes to check out certain titles and trying to change the advertisement-box music to something besides instrumental versions of disco songs. we were just leaving, my dad motioned to me from the door and as i was setting a book down and walking out, a couple walked in. some curly-haired boy with a short blonde girl. she tugged him upstairs and i caught but the slightest glance of them. i had the feeling i had seen them before but i couldn't figure it out until i was outside walking away. looking back, i'm almost certain it was a friend of mine from high school and her fiance, the wedding which i would love to go to later this summer but absolutely can't, the rsvp i had just written last week when they were supposedly in honduras building houses or something. i swear it was them. i don't know if she recognized me or not.
i'm sitting in the dark watching the last of an espn classic instant replay of the mexico/argentina cup game from last week. it's already in the 104th minute, and already over, as maxi rodriguez got his amazing volley goal about six minutes ago. fun dream last night. i was playing hockey for the canes on this 1/4 size rink with the format of an indoor soccer field. this is to say the goal was six feet high, eight or so feet wide, and built into the wall. there were no fans, just the bench and the ice and a couple players. i never really played much but the coach sent me out there and as there was a scrum in front of the goal i would hang back until the puck squirted out from the corner and i would swoop in from the side and backhand it past the keeper. i freaked, of course. once, i think, i had a wide open net, wide fucking open, and shot and it hit the boards beside the goal and shot again and it hit above, and shot again and missed again and again and i kept chasing it down and slapping at the puck {even in the dream i couldn't wield a stick worth a shit}. i knew people were chasing me down and it was so fucking scared because i was supposed to score with this wide open net but i couldn't, although i finally finessed it in. the coach reminded me that i wasn't particularly playing my position but i managed to cut back and find another loose puck on the left side and slip it in backhand too, at which point the coach figured out why i was doing so well. apparently, there was no skate on my boots and i was just running around, giving me {supposedly} easier motion. i hadn't even realized. after the team left for the locker rooms, and in order to look like one of the most determined players the coach had ever seen, i stayed behind and skated the short rink in figure eight's over and over while the assistant coach stood watching. every time i would take the curve at the end i would take it as sharp as i could and lean over as far as i could, testing how much my skate would bite into the ice, as if i were leaning a motorcycle into the apex of a hairpin.
there was also a dream about a house party with many good friends from high school and college which mostly involved the roof of the house and jumping off at one particular point. apparently, everyone did it but i was fucking scared because it really looked like i was going to break my leg if i tried but i might have anyway. in another a deceased dog of mine {who i guess came back to life for the dream} escaped from our backyard and ran away up into the cow field behind the house, leading my family and i to go search the field at night for her doggie coat. in another, there was some kind of restaurant in winston, italian, supposedly five-star but not really. i may or may not have been helping the owner set it up and testing the food or coming with my friends when it wasn't busy or not. i don't really remember much about that one. one of those travelling dreams, really, where i move around a lot and only have little vignettes with each locale.
there's still a good ten minutes left in the game. i wish i was lionel messi, must be fun to be talented like that. watching all this football, i get delusional. i miss playing although i still doubt, even if i practiced, that i could handle the ball like that, shoot like that, play like that. although i convince myself that if i bought a ball that held air and practiced footwork in my backyard until i got it right and drove to the park to shoot on goal over and over and ran a couple miles every morning so i wouldn't die if i played a game... that i might even be good enough to play club ball at school. high school was something i will never forget and always miss but college ball seems so much tougher. but, i guess, doing those things is what makes everyone great. i just doubt, knowing myself, that i will ever actually do anything, considering all the other shit that goes on.
but i have to be up in under nine hours to drive home.
posted by sunshine at 11:58 PM
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