Rise all loyal cougars

28 September 2009

Melanie and I bonded over pizza and cougar football. Whitehouse were all at the stadium, but they had a TV that worked, and a big living room where Melanie could pace back and forth and jump up and down while yelling advice at the football players on screen. There was free picnic food across the street, but we wanted pizza-- enough to pull out the yellow pages and find the closest 5 buck pizza. Turns out they don't deliver for orders under $7, so we ordered two pizzas, for the two of us, and paid the extra 2 bucks to sit in front of the TV and have our food brought to us.

I wish I had a picture of the two of us: Indian-style on the couch, each with our own pizza boxes in our laps, stuffing our faces and trying not to spit as we yelled at the TV, "Defense! Defense! Defense!"

We won, by the way. 42-23

The morning cometh

12 September 2009

Today rose early, as I slept-- before my deep night's slumber had even thinned to a twilight torpor.

His entourage marched solemnly ahead in long royal robes of velvet shadows.
The canyon winds, who had held their breath so reverently in the midnight anticipation,
began, quietly at first, to whisper amongst themselves--
and then applauding through the aspens, they welcomed the first glow.
For trumpeters, the birdsong cried his coming!

Fresh faced, he glowed with the pale pink, sun-kissed promise of a summer day.
Over the cusp of the road to the east, he peered, then stepped, and then danced
into the receding night.

There were those waiting that saw him,
that leaned out of windows thrown wide,
that felt his new glow on their expectant faces,
That saw Today come.

But I slept, my shades drawn, dreaming about a fishing boat that doubled as a circus clown--
a meaningless phantom that sailed always away into my dim unconscious.

An unexpected complement

10 September 2009

"You know what you are?" he said, "You're a Wendy-bird, and we are your lost boys."

I smiled. He is not generally one for giving complements especially in front of his posse of friends, so I struggled to understand the smack in his words. But it was lost on me-- I liked the way that sounded: me, their Wendy-bird.

I feared my smile, or my loss for words would give away my delight as such a complement. I flippantly changed the subject, but kept the smile, savoring that moment sitting amongst my lost boys.

An unexpected incident

04 September 2009

An explosion in a fascinating thing to consider. Of course, the first law of thermodynamics creates an interesting puzzle of potential and kinetic and unstable energy. How could such an apparent imbalance be a reality?

But there it is, all the same: A nearly minute quantity of potential-packed matter instantaneously becomes an extraordinarily large and beautifully violent living bouquet of saffron and magma,

And then ash.

Can you imagine what it is to be that pregnant bomb sitting still, containing quietly a supernova in miniature?

Concerning vampires

02 September 2009

We started chatting, Sam and I, about the usual: Howwassummer? How'sschool? Whatareyoustudyingagain?

We dabbled in ward gossip, and swapped post-graduation plans (distant dreams in my case). And then somehow, the conversation wound around, like some circuitous and serpentine creek (that suddenly thunders over the edge of a waterfall) to Stephanie Meyer's Twilight.

I have not read Meyer's romances, except for the last page of the last book which I read solely, I think, to spite the general masses of vampire-worshiping Meyerites.

But. Sam (who, may I point out, is not of the aforementioned Cult of Meyer) spoke with such eloquence on the symbolism and archetypal overtones of this substantial modern work of mythology, that I was thoroughly convinced of Twilight's literary merit.

Whether or not I will every read this saga, is still unsure, but I will certainly from now consider it in a different light-- perhaps even an academic light.

As we finally wound down our chat, I thanked him from the enlightening conversation and apologized for having so little to add to the conversation-- just my opinion, nothing of real import.

"Oh no," Sam replied, "Your opinion is of infinite value to me, because I could never have your thoughts."

Perhaps that attitude is the secret to his appreciation of Meyer's great body of work.