Static Electricity

I turn on the computer in the cold morning air.  The radio is playing Everlong by Foo Fighters.  A static buzz lingers from last night's Art Bell interview about crop circles, Atlantis, the possibility that we are the offspring of an extraterrestrial species planted here long ago.

The computer files are all lined up in a row, orderly, sequential, a predictable matrix.  Some say the human mind is like a computer, performing operations according to logical rules, with memory files that need to be defragmented every morning during sleep.  But the computer does not have the ability to dream.  It cannot make connections between distant memory-files the way we can when we're dreaming.  The computer will always be at a disadvantage, due to the constraints of its logic gates.  The synapse adds an extra dimension to our processing, a dimension that breathes creativity, innovation, intuition.  

I pick up Eyes of the Dragon to read, my first Stephen King book.  A supernatural start to this Thanksgiving weekend.  After I finish the book, my transformation will be complete.  I will become less robotic and more human.

Contact

Trent slept over last weekend.  We watched Contact, the Jodi Foster movie about first contact with aliens.  Trent hated it; he was begging for it to end.  I thought much of it was boring as well, except for one part: when she traveled through the wormhole to a distant planet.  She landed on an island with the most beautiful beach I've ever seen.  The sand was pure white, the water a clear blue, and the night sky was cast in a velvety purple.  It looked like the coastline of a painting by this artist who does tropical seascapes.  I don't know his name [Christian Lassen], but I wish I did.

This beach inspired me to draw an island for one of my fantasies, called Sandwich Island.  This island is surrounded by a sea of coral.  It has a tourist town called Encinitas; the Corcos jungle, where many apes live; an Andean-looking peak called Maccu Piccu, based on the real place in Peru; and Half Moon Bay, where my perfect beach exists on a limestone coast.  The fantasy involves Lauren, my latest crush at school.  Denise and Amy are in it too.  Basically, I save them from a volcano just before it erupts.  We survive the eruption and end up living in a jungle mansion on the beach for the rest of our lives.

Frequently I dream up fantasies like these.  I like how they draw me out of the real world so I don't have to deal with it.  The prospect of talking to any of these girls in real life is too frightening for me to seriously consider.  Casanova would be ashamed.

From Las Vegas to Seattle in a Mobile Home

My second visit to Las Vegas was rainless and scorching, unlike the first.  We flew into 110-degree heat, the hottest I have ever been in.  Mom and Mike took me, but Jason didn't come because it was his dad's turn to spend the weekend with him.

This is where Ruby and Hal Reasby now live, my old neighbors from Maltby, who used to babysit us in the summer.  They'd recently moved to Vegas just after introducing mom to Mike.  What used to be a beautiful, cozy, well-kept yellow house in the suburbs has been lost for them.  Like us, they were cast out of this utopia.  Now they live in a city apartment, probably the result of financial trouble.  They let us stay with them for the night, despite the lack of space.  Hal said I look sexy in my new jacket, but I hate it.  Then when he saw my bare feet, he commented that I had runner's ankles- good for long distance running.  I don't think he even knew I'd been running track.

Ruby was a saint when she used to babysit me.  We'd always cuddle up on the couch, watching daytime soaps and talk shows, looking at maps or picture books.  She taught me about the places she's traveled to, like Provo, Utah.  For some reason that place stands out in my mind.  They had two weiner dogs, Max and Minnie, who always got excited when me and Jason came over.  The best part of their house was their backyard, where a thick forest invited my friends and I to go exploring whenever the Reasbys would let us.  Jason's favorite place was the garage, where he'd watch cartoons on a mini-TV, drinking grape pop among all the stacks of National Geographic magazines.  I don't think I ever recognized how much of an affect the Reasbys had on my geographical interests until now.

We went to a few casinos in Vegas.  The most memorable was the Luxor, a pyramid-shaped hotel with a sphinx entrance hall.  Mike asked me if I'd ever seen so many beautiful women.  Heavens no, they were everywhere.  Tall women, graceful women, scantily clad women.  They drew the eyes like a hunter to a deer.  It felt like I had entered some exotic paradise in the Luxor, drawn by skin and neon, the flashing of all the gambling machines.  Jackpots, joysticks, jelly-glazed dresses glinting under the Egyptian lights, all bathed in a sandy yellow.  I'll never forget that moment, just waiting for them in the casino, watching all the women.

Next morning, we left the city in an old, beat-up mobile home.  That was our main reason for going there, to transfer Mike's home from Vegas to Seattle.  We didn't get very far before the decrepit thing broke down in the middle of the desert, right in a ghost town.  Mom freaked out and they had a skirmish.  I wasn't happy either.  But to be honest, I wouldn't want to get stuck with anyone other than Mike.  I feel safe around him, and I think mom does too.  He's the bravest person I know, and he'd do anything to protect us.

Once he got the engine running, the desert whizzed by quicker than we thought it would.  Relief mixed with fatigue settled in, that calming sensation you feel after a threatening situation, or after a long day on the road.  I thought about Art Bell while looking for Area 51, and whether aliens had really been brought to this part of the country.  His radio show wasn't far from here either, and I found myself looking for some sign of that too.  For all I knew, it could have been just around the corner.  But like the forbidden facility, nothing was in sight.  I also browsed through this strange book called Wizard and Glass, by Stephen King.  Mike likes to read this "master of horror" writer.  He talks about him all the time, and how crazy his characters are.  Trashcan Man, Flagg, Roland... He talks about Roland in a reverent way that reveals his idolization of the fictional character.  I've not read any Stephen King books, but now I'm interested.

We came off the high desert into the sprawl of Carson City-Reno.  A Long December played on the radio, by the Counting Crows- a great song, and totally Mike.  I just watched the open road ahead as he tiredly drove us down into the valley in front of a rusty sunset.  Another song played, called I'm Getting Closer to My Home, perfectly appropriate for us.  I'm not sure who wrote that song [Grand Funk Railroad], but I like it.

Next day we drove through northern California and Oregon.  Mike went speeding off the pass of Lassen Volcano, scaring the crap out of mom again.  I thought it was fun.  We spent that night on a deserted Oregon beach, ready for the final push home on the morrow.

Coast to Coast AM

    I found this crazy talk show on the radio called Coast to Coast AM.  The host Art Bell invites people on who like to talk about the search for aliens, ghost sightings, conspiracy theories, etc.  He also has what's called an Antichrist line, where people call in claiming to be the Antichrist.  One guy called in the other night who gave me goosebumps- he was very convincing, claiming the economy will implode in 2006. 

    And all these callers claiming to have been abducted by aliens are freaking me out.  I believe in aliens, I just didn't know these abductions were so common.  X-files is one of the best TV shows ever.  It isn't real, but this radio show makes it sound like non-fiction.  It has a way of opening your mind to other possibilities, making you wonder what's really out there.  The skies are limitless, the stars mysterious, the radio waves broadcast out from the high desert reaching every corner of the galaxy. 

Hells Canyon Road Trip

    My aunt and her friend drove me out to Hell's Canyon last weekend, but the freaking road was closed.  So, we didn't get to see the deepest canyon in the country.  Many people think the Grand Canyon is the deepest, but that is simply not so.  While being much wider than Hell's Canyon, it's 3,000 feet lower at its deepest point.

    Even though we didn't get to see it, it was nice to spend some time with Julie and Laura.  The highlight of the trip was listening to Delerium's Semantic Spaces while going over the Blue Mountains.  The chants and rhythm of that strange music echoed the atmosphere of those mountains perfectly.  Gothic is how my aunt describes it.

    On the way back, we got stuck in some horrible traffic.  I commented that someone in another car looked like a "fat chink".  My aunt informed me that chink is a disparaging word for a Chinese person, which I didn't know.  I felt bad for saying it.  There was a long, uncomfortable silence after that.  Which one of my dumb friends didn’t mention it was a slur? 

School Africa Project

    At school we had a massive presentation about African countries.  Each student from our wing got split into groups, not according to the classes we're in, but randomly.  I was chosen by my group to create the landscape platform represented by our country, Botswana.  It was pretty fun to create all the biomes on it in science class, where all the other students chosen to make the landscapes for their countries were.

    During our presentation, one in which the whole wing (four whole classes) was packed into a two-room space, I got to show my landscape to half the seventh grade.  The English teacher asked me to twirl in front of everybody after I'd done it to open my part of the presentation.  She just thought it was cute, I guess.  Everyone laughed at me, but not in a cruel way. 

    My English teacher is pretty for an older teacher.  She has beach blonde hair and likes to wear tight clothes.  In English she teaches us about root words- how collections of our words in English originated from Greek or Latin ones.  Many of our words are combined from different roots, like photography (photos + graphos, or something like that).  There's a girl I used to sit by in this class.  I was always amazed at how fast she could read.  I always tried to keep up with her during reading time, but never could.

    My favorite class is Social Studies.  The teacher is funny and the subjects we learn about are the most interesting to me.  When he had us take a pretest on African countries, I correctly located 53 out of the possible 55 countries on the map.  He couldn't believe it, so he asked me to bring the map over to him.  In front of everyone, he sarcastically said after looking over it:  "Ok, now for the rest of us humans..."

Nintendo 64

The Nintendo 64 is rocksome and I have new favorite game: Mario Kart 64.  It’s the most fun-filled, shell-smashin’, banana-bashin’, speed-racin’, spin-out-swirlin’, 3-dimensionally majorly exceptionally incredibly fantastically glamorously giddy game in the history of mankind.  From the sunny shores of Koopa Troopa Beach to the deadly Toad’s Turnpike, from the choppy Cocoa Mountain to the chaos of Bowser’s Castle, and from the labyrinthine Yoshi’s Valley to the dazzling Rainbow Road, you’ll get shell-shocked into one shell of a time.

My two favorite courses are Luigi’s Raceway and Bowser’s Castle.  Now you’re thinkin’ Luigi’s Raceway? It’s the most boring, generic course ever.  But I beg to differ, my friend. Try going backwards for 50 laps using Bowser and demolishing everything in your path with stars and lightning bolts.   The destruction is wild, rampant, recalcitrant!  Knowing this, need I really explain why I love the Bowser Castle in this game?   I purposefully get 5th place or worse over and over just to play it again.  As the course weaves its way through the castle, a dark estrangement welcomes you to that evil myopia of moving objects and dastardly fire-holes.

One time I was Donkey Kong and I got a star and right before Luigi got thwomped I blasted Toad all the way to the moon.  With him screaming Aaaaaaaaaaah! and my Donkey Kong bursting through the thwomp over Luigi who was howling in pain over and over, the hysterical laughter that sprung from my mouth is a priceless moment in the history of my gaming.  Add all this to the funny sound effects, the glorious music, and the diversity of the levels... This game is making me go bananas!

Segue to the hippin’ and hoppin’ NBA Hang Time, a quirky game that does 2-on-2 NBA basketball in street-game format, where no fouls are called and anything goes.  This game makes me laugh just as much as Mario Kart; you can push players down, dunk flamboyantly, and jump higher than a fuckin’ puma cat, while all through the game there’s an animated announcer spouting calls like, He’s unconscious! or That shot could have killed somebody!

I can’t forget about the first N-64 game, simply known as Mario 64.   I think it’s better than all the platform games combined.  What you do is jump into castle paintings and you’re transported to the worlds inside the paintings and you have find these stars hidden inside them.  This game has a special place in my heart because the last few levels really blow me away.  On the third floor of the castle, you have to climb inside this giant clock tower with over-sized gizmos, and there’s a couple of heavenly rainbow worlds where you get to fly on magic carpets and hop over obstacles suspended in the air.   With spellbinding music, the best graphics ever, and a vast enemy ensemble, I predict this game will be one of the all-time greats for many years to come.

The Track Comeback

In my first ever official track race I ran a 6:15 mile.  Mom talked me into joining the school team because she thought it would be good for me.  I was put on the junior varsity squad because I'm only a seventh grader and can't really compete with the bigger, faster ninth graders.

The greatest thing about my first race is that I came from behind on the final lap to barely beat out this kid from the other school.   It was a battle of wills down to the wire.  For once in my life, I triumphed.  Everyone was watching me dig in deep, give it my all, mustering a hidden strength they didn't know I possessed.  They'd been screaming at me to pass him the whole time, so I did, with every ounce of effort that I had.  I'd been about five feet behind him for most of the race.  On that final lap, the coach got right up in my face as I passed him, injecting me with the extra encouragement I needed to catch him.

Several people congratulated me after I beat him, but not my friend Will.  He just shrugged it off like it was nothing.  And why should he?  I finished behind him and got third in the JV race.  I should have been the one congratulating him.