Saturday, December 14, 2002

The rare afternoon nap. Don't usually take them, sleep-deprived me. Still all groggy and dreamy and out of it. I had a funny dream Wednesday morning that I saw our old Chevy Caprice parked in front of a convenience store. It was looking better with white-colored patched of bondo over the rust spots. I followed the driver over to my cousin Jerry's garage and then ended up bawling Jerry out for misleading me. "You said the transmission was shot!" I yelled before going ballistic and smashing everything in sight. So what is the significance of the berserker dream. I have a conscious fantasy of destruction involving chandeliers that was recently revived during a tour of the Illinois State Capital. Both House and Senate chambers are illimunated by lead crystal chandeliers. What a sound their shattering would make, the flying shrapnel in all random directions. I'd love to break into a yuppie home and smash the chandelier. Take no booty, leave no evidence, just cut the threads supporting the chandelier and watch it fall. Of course, in my destructive fury I'd surely smash more. Hulk bad!

A few weeks ago I lamented that my menacing appearance always made people wary of me. This has also served me. I know I'm a badass looking cuss and walk fearless and proud down any dark alley and into any new situations. I have not any muggings, rapes or any other personal crimes waged on me. The wanton criminal element shies from my personage. I thought of this last night when I watched World Wrestling Entertainment (i.e. soap opera for the teenage boy set) at Ron Heinscher's place. Thought it would be cool to develop a WWE character based on a nerdy, intellectual, Shakespeare quoting archetype. This character would spout lines like, "I laugh at your base and simpering aggression. Any comic book wielding cretin can see through your ruse, fool! Begone, post-haste, minion."

On Fridays I have two kindergarten classes and a first grade class. And in these three classes I do not let them play with toys. Instead, we play follow the leader, orchestrate simple dance routines, duck duck goose, foot races, hop like a frog, etc. My first group of kindergartners ganged up on me and gave a group hug. It was so endearing. One little girl took a sticker of a star on her cheek and handed it too me all solemn and honorific. The simple love and adoration expressed in the hug, the energy of all those little heartbeats so close, young, coltish soapy smell of them, made my day.

No significant plans this weekend, other than to write and have finished my first draft for the short story about the pig farmer living on top of Big Bald in North Carolina. I want to continue and finish my collection of Appalachian Trail short stories. Short term goal: Have six finished and collected in a chapbook to distribute at Trail Days next year, either give away or for sale. Something to inspire the interest of a prospective publisher.

I'd also like to clip my nails, drink until I'm pleasantly buzzed, watch a movie or two, twiddle my thumbs, stare aimlessly off into space and daydream, take a hike in the country, get some Christmas shopping done.

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