novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- i'll light the match and the flames will attack there is much to be said for sorting through everything in order to get to the real core. i know lots of people that need this done to their lives, preferrably by themselves and not some shrink. i'm trying. but what about the people who suckerpunch and then run away? what about the people who suckerpunch themselves? i'm trying not to. saturday while standing in line to recieve my diploma, my grand-uncle bob, grandpa jack and my father waddled up to me and handed me a beer. "you look like you could use this." they smiled and nudged each other like little boys. dad heckled the girls around me, poking at their tattoos. on each man's lapel was a three-inch pin with a picture of my head. i look uncomfortable in the photograph, i thought, as i took a swig of my uncle's beer. "hey elka, how do you get a nun pregnant?" i don't know, bob. how? "you dress her up as an altar boy!" this from a devout catholic farmer who flew in from a wisconsin town his father helped found. his voice is deep and raspy. he quit smoking in sixty-five when cigarettes were thirty-five cents a pack. 5:25 pm - 05.12.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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