09.03.09
Khuk Khak, Thailand - Now see, in an instance like that, the title is the idea. Then somehow write a story that...sort of...weaves its way into making sense of the title.
If I had listened to Manny, I coulda...
I coulda been a speechwrit...I AM a speechwriter.* I coulda been a
traveling salesman.
All that material on shit falling from the sky? Some of you responded. Maybe it was too much, but some of the story, much of the story, in fact, was true. In-depth reporting. I just wanted to give Rick Larsen the exposure he so desperately needed, and for you to hear him refer to a spy satellite as a 'spook bird'.
Been trying to keep this writing thing going full-time, along with the stand-up act, English lessons, and landscaping, and just last week, the first two patients in two years requiring the assistance of the emergency roadside medical outpatient service.
They got clipped by a truck, two guys on a motorbike, one guy kissed the pavement, the other got banged up. All those people standing around, nobody had a bottle of water, a towel, or a t-shirt.
Back's not broken, neck's not broken, first thing, get 'em to the side of the road, right? No. First thing, stop the fucking traffic. Move 'em, stop the bleeding. Now, some of you may say, don't move 'em, and yesssss, generally, yeah, don't move 'em...go get a stretcher board. But in this case, it was a spontaneous on-the-spot call.
Anyway, those guys, dazed and bleeding, seemed appreciative of the care, while a crowd of about fifty JUST STOOD THERE.
Now, think for a minute, if that was you laying there in the road, which would you prefer; looking up at a cluster of people watching you bleed to death? Orrrrrr, having someone rush up with the apparent intention of coming to your aid, kneel down and compassionately tell you you're bleeding to death?
BIGGGGG difference, right?
Yeah, well anyway, I got asked to serve in the capacity of a priest, not by those two guys, but someone else, and I thought, 'What?', and this person wanted advice and to make a confession, and since they asked, I said, 'You want me to do whaat?'
So, there's another first-in-life experiences, asked to be a priest. Cool, huh?
So when I return to S. Dakota, or people ask, which of course, I will be itching for them to do, I can tell them I was a priest. About three maybe four minutes, five tops, I was a priest.
Job interview, resume'; 'I worked as a priest once.'
I can tell Father Paul this summer! Oh Christ, that will SURELY bait the old man. I can take off with that, bullshit and be vague, and just tease the hell out of him. I can see his eyes, now, behind those thick, hazy lenses.
Father Paul is one of our oldest dancers, hunka brother to Beatrice Weasel Bear, our matriarch, to keep it short.
Well ok. Hunka (Hoon-kah) is taking a person ceremonially and publicly as your relative, to keep it short.
I coulda been a priest, but I got in with the 'bad crowd' and didn't listen to Manny.
Ok, so let's talk about you for awhile. You do that life timeline? Don't lie. Not yet? Ok. It's worthwhile, at least for me it was, and I did it only after suggesting it to you. It's interesting to look at when you lay it out, the peaks and valleys, the significant people in your life. Go head, Diane. Do it.
I see many of you have loads of friends on Facebook. That's cool. What I noticed after connecting with people I haven't heard from for a long time, is there is a reason you haven't heard from them.
Things kind of drift back to...what would you call it?...homeostasis.
'Well...drop by if you're ever in the area.'
Apart from all that, just writing to try to strike a chord or nerve or funnybone with you, or connect with you on some kind of topic to get you to respond or let me know you're out there on the other end of what otherwise is a one-way conversation. Sometimes I'm talking to the walls, sometimes I'm talking to you.
-end
*I wrote Uncle Joe's speech. And I helped bro Tom with some bold talking points...and no, it wasn't a disaster. I don't know what you heard. It was a convincing argument, a convincing case. The PEOPLE just weren't ready for it yet, a timing thing. I don't know what you heard. It didn't make us look bad. I thought it was good.
But when he finished, all them Indians were just sitting there, looking HARD, evaluative, like, 'Did I just hear what I just heard?'
ps - Oh, yes. Sorry about your names in the 'to:' field, as opposed to bcc, as some of you may prefer. What can I say? Slipped.
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