Friday, August 21, 2009

Two bits

I’m sitting in a barber’s chair on the sidewalk of a busy city street. Swarms of people stream past at an intersection. An older Hispanic woman starts cutting my hair. She’s talking the whole time, but I don’t pay attention to what she is saying. Then she draws on my perfectly white sneaker with a red marker. She draws a crude rocket ship on the top of the foot and two squiggly lines down the sides. Before I think to say anything, Mom and Dad walk up and ask if my hair should be shorter. Then Mom asks her to trim my eyebrows.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Wanderer

On a suburban street, I follow two teenage girls through the front door of a house. We talk for a minute or two, then one of them asks me leave. I walk out the down and down the sidewalk to the house next door. I walk in and wander down a hallway. It leads into the same house I just left. Knowing I’m not supposed to be there, I walk back down the front door of the first house. Right as I’m stepping on the porch steps, the dad of one of the girls comes up the steps. I say to him, “The girls are inside” and he gets really upset. I keep walking down to the sidewalk. The dad follows me, but instead of yelling at me for being in his house, he talks to a neighbor on the sidewalk. He wails something like, “how could they do this to me?”

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Cops on the beat

Two city detectives are talking about a case involving a human heart stolen for transplant. They are asking if any of the donor recipients on a list show elevated levels of testosterone.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

In the wild

I live in an Alaskan village.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Modern warfare and our founding fathers

I’m sitting on the wheel well of a huge military transport vehicle. I have an assault rifle slung across my lap and can feel the tire vibrate below me. We patrol a base, riding past several giant helicopters and planes with massive gun turrets. A gun battle breaks out but I can’t see the enemy shooting at us. I run into a brownstone style house that has been converted into military offices. The firefight intensifies inside with bullets flying down hallways and a winding staircase. Someone yells to get them out. And I push Benjamin Franklin and George Washington down the hall to safety.

Friday, July 31, 2009

I'll never ride Star Tours again

Walking along a lake in Disney World after a show. I wander backstage and into a warehouse. Inside, I see row upon row of animatronic storm troopers lined up like a military battalion. They are missing their helmets. And seeing gears and wires where faces should be makes them look evil and menacing.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Break apart

A museum is supposed to destroy an artist’s work after his death. The pieces are wooden igloos shaped like wavy jellybeans sitting on the museum’s lush green lawn. Instead of honoring their word, the museum puts them up for sale.

My Dad is helping Aunt Linda move and asks for my help with her bed. We step into an empty second floor bedroom and the bed is already disassembled on the floor. There are words beautifully hand painted on the wood in 60s style lettering.

A housewife is smoking from a one hitter in her front lawn. I’m sitting on the grass between the house and where she is standing. I ask her for a hit. She hands it to me; I inhale deeply and then walk off through the subdivision.

Monday, July 6, 2009

More than meets the eye

Elton John is selling Polaroids two for a dollar. He sits at a folding card table set up on a city sidewalk and keeps holding up a Polaroid of a black and white dog – in the background of the photo is a kid sitting on a tricycle with only the wheels and boy’s feet in the frame of the shot. Several construction workers watch Elton John as he calls out to people passing by what a great deal he is offering. He seems genuinely excited about taking people’s pictures for such a low price, but no one is interested.

Holding a beer can in my hand, reading the label. It has a German name printed above an eagle logo done in an art deco design. Below the logo, it says “Bad can of beer - bitter beer.” I think that the can isn’t ugly at all, but that it should read, “The bad can full of bitter beer.”

Walking through a school, I realize that I’m not wearing any deodorant. A stick materializes in my hand. I pull up my shirt to put it on, but the green deodorant in the plastic case crumbles off in big chunks. Todd comes up, he wants to hang out or spend the night at my place. I joke with him in front of a few other guys. Then Todd sticks a flash drive into a computer and hurriedly downloads something. Todd’s file opens and a video begins. It plays on a screen sitting on a school table. The screen is big and looks too nice for a school. The video is cartoon of two boys at a dumpster. They find a giant laser gun and point the barrel out of the dumpster into the sky. But when they fire it, a porn DVD pops out of both sides of the base of the barrel. They scream “Porn Gun, Porn Gun” while pulling the trigger again and again. The gun starts to grow larger and twist at odd angles until it comes to life like a transformer.

Monday, June 29, 2009

All in

There is a poker table set up on a grassy hilltop in a large park. I am playing with a group of guys I know. We are using chips with real money on the line. An old woman comes up to talk to me. She palms a few of my chips and walks off. I get up and chase after her. I catch up to her a few steps away and gently tell her that I need those back. I take her hand and open her closed fist. She is holding five or six blue, plastic poker chips. I take them back but leave her one or two of them. I feel bad for her and realize that she is my grandmother (my Dad’s Mom, who passed away when I was in college.) I walk with her through the park.
A man joins us as we walk. It is the actor Andy Griffith. He looks old, but a bit younger than he did on Matlock. I ask him about my Grandma, how she is doing day to day. It seems they are dating. As we walk her home, I tell him that she is having a bit of dementia. We reach the sidewalk in front of a suburban ranch house. I don’t recognize it, but it is where she is living.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Bunker down

Hiding underground in a post-apocalyptic world, I look up at a manhole cover or grate. I’m ducking inside a manmade cave with rough walls of dry, light brown dirt. I use the barrel of a gun to poke up the grate just a crack. The gun I hold is some kind of rifle and machine gun hybrid. Through the crack of sunlight above, I see the barrels of several other guns and the side of a black boot.
A little robot on three wheels rolls up behind me. I assume it has a mounted camera, even though I don’t see it. At first, I pick it up like a remote control car, but then smash it with the butt of my gun.

Someone has left the keys in the ignition of a nascar racecar. I climb in and give a girl a ride to her house. We park at the top of her steep driveway, then the car slide forward down the lawn through several flowers. I try to steer back onto the driveway, but the engine is not running. I get out of the car and step into the middle of the cul-de-sac. A mob of real estate agents in black suits fill the street. Some have clipboards and all are shouting out offers on the house. My parents walk out of a house on the other side of the cul-de-sac and announce that they are putting their house up for sale also. The entire group of agents swarms towards them.

Riding a ten speed bike down a black top country road. I’m holding an open umbrella above my head and as a car in the other lane comes towards me, the umbrella flies out of my hand. I start to pull over onto the side of the road to pick it up, but see behind me that the umbrella has snapped off of its pole. The umbrella sits in the middle of the road like a small, black tent as the handle bounces across the asphalt. I pedal hard to keep riding since it is not raining.
I ride onto a dirt road in a park or field shaded by large trees. I take the handlebars off the bike to fix something. A teenage kid comes up and starts giving me advice on how to fix them. I am the same age as him and we are friends, even though I don’t recognize him. He starts banging on the post that the handlebars attach to with a pair of vice grips. He is denting the metal pipe and I know it won’t fix anything, but feel powerless to stop him. I say something, but he replies that before they could only go on one way. It’s as if the handlebars used to fit into a groove on the stem and he is trying to make it fit on any direction.

The same kid and I are in a carpeted basement listening to music. He holds up a CD made of cardboard. The word “panthers” is written on it in black marker. I’m trying to tell him that a band is good because a guy named Paul recommended them and said that millions of people like their song, so don't you think you might be wrong? The kid still thinks that they suck.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Searching

Leaning over the edge of a cliff or rooftop trying to watch where my golf shot is going. Almost straight below is a swampy area, and then the ground gets solid further away. I see my orange golf ball bounce right at the edge of the water and land on the back of a crocodile. It rolls down his body towards his tail and then back up till it comes to rest next to his eye. Suddenly, a blue golf ball lands in the muck near it. I assume it was hit by someone I am with and that we are in a contest to see who can get their ball closest to the hole.

Sleeping on the top bunk of bunk beds and a woman that looks like Julie crawls in with me to fool around.

I see Bob walking through Disney World and run to catch up to him. He’s surprised that I’m wearing slacks and a long sleeve, button down shirt.

My guys from Jersey are staying in a hotel to go to a college football game. We’ve already been to one game the day before and are getting ready for another. I can’t find my phone anywhere. Paul and Fred are talking about making dinner reservations and realize that by the time we get a table anywhere for 20 people, we’ll miss the game.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Flying carpet

A rug shop is having a Going Out Of Business Sale. It’s a shabby basement store with welcome mats and kitchen rugs leaning against white metal shelves. I see a hot air balloon rug and wonder if Mom and Dad already have it. But before I can take a closer look, two women beat me to it. I see another one just like it two piles over. I pull it out and lay it on the floor to take a picture to send them. But instead of using my phone an emailing the pic right away, I try to take it with a digital camera. But I can barely see anything on the screen. So I try holding the camera up to my eye, but can’t see through the lens. I decide to just hold the camera out and guess to line up the shot. As I am angling the camera, an old woman comes up and starts vacuuming the rug with a small vacuum cleaner. I say, “Excuse me, I’m trying to take a picture of that.” And she says OK, but keeps on vacuuming. The suction is pulling up bunches of long fibers from the rug and ruining the pattern. When she is done, she puts the rug away despite my protests. And then I can’t find it again.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Rock on

On stage in a nightclub playing with The Beatles. But Dave is on drums, so it must just be Lennon and McCartney playing with us. They are both younger versions of themselves. Suddenly John storms off the stage. The others stop playing and after a pause follow him. I lean into the mike stand and apologize to the audience. I think John is upset that Dave’s playing was bad. I go backstage and find them in a big room with autographed band pictures on the wall. There are beat up tables, chairs and a couch at one end and an empty bar at the other. The guys are leaning against it looking dejected. John still looks upset and says to me, “It really hurt my feelings when you criticized my fashion before the show.”

Dave and I are at a Jimmy Buffett concert, hanging out with a group of senior citizens. Someone is taking pictures of us. When I turn around to find Dave, he sitting on top of a picnic table with the waist of his khaki pants pulled up past his navel.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

More reward points

I walk into a kitchen I don’t recognize and on the counter I see a wide bowl full of plastic bottle caps from cokes and other containers. On the kitchen island, there is a wicker bowl also full of plastic bottle caps and lids. Brooke’s aunt has saved them for me.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Displacement

My Jersey buddies make plans to play poker the next day. We’re staying in a hotel and before the sun is completely up, Paul busts into my room to wake me up. I’m in bed with Brooke and try to get oriented to the lack of light as Paul tells me to get moving. She doesn’t wake up and I’m even more confused because the guys aren’t going to play cards, they’re ready to leave for someplace else.

I’m moving to a new desk in a strange office and it is covered in a mess of old papers and cables. A small boom box on a pile of binders is playing bad music. I sit down and see another radio sitting on the shelf above the desk. I try to turn off the boom box right as Clarkin sits down at the desk next to me. We start to talk, but Sue, the HR person at my job comes up and says to Clarkin, “what are you doing here?” and then to me, “he doesn’t even work here!”
Next, I’m walking into a dull apartment. Clarkin and I have just moved into it for the new job. I realize that I don’t even know what city it is in and wonder why I even took a job away from Brooke and wonder how she is. My thoughts stop when I see a black metal shelf next to the front door. It holds bottles of laundry detergent and other random household stuff. Most of the rest of the apartment is bare and I think that we have to decorate better because we don’t live in a frat anymore.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Shopping is a pain

In a funky neighborhood in NYC or a foreign city, I walk into a t-shirt shop looking for a cool, graphic tee. All of the racks and walls are full of rugbys and polos in preppy patterns. A black guy about my age comes out from the back and pulls a few shirts out to show me. I tell him I could buy something like that back in Ohio.

Walking through a country fair with row upon row of booths selling local crafts. I enter a booth that is larger than the rest where they are selling ice cream out of big metal troughs like the newer ones that hold water for cattle and horses on farms.
An attractive girl catches my eye as I decide what to order. When I step up to the counter, I accidentally bump into her. Her boyfriend starts yelling at me. I ignore him, until he says, “you people always wait to pay.” I suddenly get upset, turn to him and tell him how uncalled for that was and that he didn’t have to go there. He looks confused, so I say, “oh come on, like you didn’t know I’m Jewish.”

Monday, June 1, 2009

Blame the drummer

A British manager talking to his band about improving the act.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

I don't know where you live

Flirting with a girl in a bar. I think she wants me to take her home.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

What am I searching for?

Running along a country road, there are house every so often set far back from the road. A guy jogging comes up from behind me. He says something as he approaches. But instead of passing, he matches my pace beside me and keeps talking. And talking and talking. I speed up a bit, but he matches my pace. I run faster and pull ahead. I can still hear him babbling behind me, so I keep going faster until I’m running faster than possible. It’s like I’m flying on the ground, then I’m running on all fours like a leopard.
I slow down when I come up to the outskirts of a town. I walk behind a convenient store and steal a 10 speed bike that leaning against the railing of the ramp leading up to the back door between the dumpster and the loading dock.

I’m working at Disney World, but instead of one of the parks, I’m in a huge warehouse. I walk past rows of dusty bicycles leaning against one another. And start to sort through a pile of stacked golf bags. They’re the same style my Dad and Grandfather had in the late seventies and early eighties. I don’t see anything that interests me, so I walk on coming up to rows and rows of old pool tables jammed up against each other. I see old billiard balls covered in dust on a few tables and consider sticking a few in my pockets. But I walk on without grabbing any. I pass more pool tables and they start getting less old. I see lights ahead, which turn out to be glowing neon beer signs as I get closer. The pool tables are newer and spread out more. I’m now walking through a pool hall that seems to be located in the far end of the warehouse. A group of friends calls out to me from a corner table. They’re drinking beer and as I walk over, a tall black guy I don’t recognize greets me like an old friend. He knows me, but I can’t place him.

At a hotel with a group of friend about to go out. It is a mix of girls and guys we know. As we leave the casino, one of the girls starts flirting with me at the end of the night. She wants to make plans to meet, but I’m staying at a different place the next night.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Sarandon swims

I see Susan Sarandon walking through a beach resort and decide to go reintroduce myself. As I approach her, I see that she is talking on her cell phone. I walk along the same brick path she is on, but feel self-conscious following her. So I pretend to talk to on my iPhone and walk past her. When I sense that she is no longer on the phone, I slow down to let her pass. As she walks next me, I wrap up my imaginary phone conversation. But before I can say anything to her, she runs ahead onto the beach. She runs into the surf and just before she dives into the water, she turns and says, “Brian, Brian” as if mock-scolding me. I chase after her and dive into the water. As soon as my body goes under, I realize that I am still wearing a robe and that it was foolish of me to dive in after her. But I am surprised and pleased that she remembered me. Next thing I know, she is rubbing my feet.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Pardon me

Ray opens the door to the bathroom while I'm sitting on the toilet.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Don't count your chickens

I’m putting groceries away in the fridge, but Brooke has bought several cartons of eggs. I try to stack the cartons but they are all different shapes. One has three rows of eggs across and several rows deep. One is only two across but about 16 deep. Fitting them into the fridge is like doing a puzzle.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Slides

I’m walk into a crowded movie theatre as a movie is playing. Robin Williams is on screen in what seems to be a serious story set in a foreign country. There are two screens one on each of two walls that meet at a 90-degree angle. There are rows of seats facing each screen. The screen to the side is smaller. I sit down in an empty aisle a few rows from that screen. A man is sitting near me and starts talking to me nonstop. I try to ignore him, then get up and move to the front row of the other screen. I try to find a seat and see Craig Humphrey and perhaps a few other people from high school sitting in the aisle. Tim Funke is a few seats down and waves at me. They start sliding back and forth across the row as if on a conveyor belt that keeps changing direction. The result is that I cannot sit in the constantly filled empty seat I intended to.

Then I am walking down a city street and see a party going on in a loft. It is some kind of dorm building and the party is packed elbow to elbow with people having an amazing time.

Then I am looking into another building. It is a giant window of what looks like a gleaming modern storefront. But it is labeled as The Portfolio Center. The walls to each side are covered in student ads from top to bottom. The wall facing the window has huge posters of student ads hanging from small chains from the ceiling or hung on the wall by glass held in place by large steel screws. The work is amazingly good and one of the pieces is a tequila ad and is labeled with Karl Backus’ name. There is an old pick-up truck (like an old ford with rounded wheel wells.) on display on the floor right in front of the window. It is painted bright crazy colors like an art exhibit or maybe it is an ad. The sidewalk starts sliding and feels like a moving walkway at the airport. But it quickly changes direction and starts swinging back and forth in a long fluid glide. I look down and realize that it is actually the building that is sliding back and forth in front of me like a giant amusement park funhouse.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Run, McKenzie, run

I am racing Jeff down a street. He runs on the sidewalk across the street from me. I jump into the road and run down the center yellow line. Cars whiz past but I don’t notice or fear them. I am taking giant, super-human strides, it feels like I am flying I am running so swift and light. But Jeff is always right there even with me. The road is now deserted of traffic and runs downhill and winds around. The road narrows and runs through a small town. It reminds me of Old Shelbyville Road in Louisville. I realize I don’t know where we are racing to and look around trying to recognize something. We approach a subdivision and pass a row of houses. I see Jeff slightly ahead turning into the subdivision. I cut through a field before the turn and catch up to Jeff as we run down a hill in the field around a house. I wonder if we are racing to the house on the hill over the river.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

We all move on some day

I am hiding in a strange house. I crouch down and peek out a front window to watch a few people (a family?) get into a car in the driveway. I am waiting for them to leave. I turn around and Grandma is standing in the round. I try talking to her and cry because I am so happy to see her. Then I notice she is talking with a slight New York accent. So it sounds like she is yelling at Grandpa. She is telling him what to do as she is holding a blouse on a plastic hanger. We are planning to take everything out of the house.