23 April 2012


I hope the nights keep this level of excitement for then there is no way i cannot keep up with this... it started when my neighbor gave me a dream diary when i left for the Pacific NW... then i met a girl named Althea who reads old books like "Dream Telepathy" and dances to old Paul Simon records in nothing but her pink Chucks. Then i took the red pill. Here goes! Hope you like reading it as much as I liked experiencing it.

Chapter 1:

... ducking my head as to not hit the splintered ceiling, i walk down to the basement with little trust. She's new to my world but i'm crazy about how she makes time disappear when we're together. i find her on the couch, alone, smoking. Everytime i kiss her its more of a laughter-filled romp with bites and some kind of mark left on one of us. We met at the refuge. The band we put together had the lead singer of Coheed & Cambria on the drums. Lest I say we werent that good. She's the most gorgeous thing i have ever seen. i cannot trust the other men in the house around her at all, regardless of their respect for me. She's cooked up love and they're dying for some. She's starting to stand her ground now its been two weeks and they respect me when i'm around because i dont say anything. But they hear us loud and clear. I never use force to keep anyone near, so this exercise is by far the greatest. Too bad i cannot be here more often... as Time creeps back in, he tears us apart from one another. We fit together as if we were super glued... our skin rips and splits and we scream and moan, clawing until the void eats us up. 
When I wake, i am clutching on for dear life. i am the only one without a lifejacket! Slowly does this warship plod along this river. I'm surprised that not one of the Upper Brass is saying i'm in the wrong. As cunning as these soldiers might be, they're not so quick without their technology. As i get my berthing all set, i venture up to my new Ship's Store. Its much larger than the Ogden's. I see 'ol boy, as he walks up to me he warns, "watch out for Technical Chief. He's around." I give him the "say what?" look... "Technical"? there's no such thing as a "technical" Chief... well, lo and behold, who comes walking onto the messdecks not more than a second later? Technical Chief. He's about 6'5" 300 with skin like armour. He's quite nice though, even after I call him just "Chief" to see what his reaction would be... he quickly corrects me without anger and i repeat in kind and carry on as if nothing happened. He is on the ropes now. He needs me there and its fun being the only one wearing Navy coveralls. This is my first ship that is fully co-ed... am i sure this is the US military? Wow, things have changed as we lay in the double sunlight making the non-skid our lounge. And before i know it, i'm cropping a digital picture in the sky of what i'm looking at, of where i am now, actuallly,... I'm in Southport Park! But this is not how i remember it. And the people talk like they're from another ... yup, its the 1920's and not only that but my soccer mates are French. That means lots of cigarettes. The Park is majestic! I can now see it in all of its glory! There are people everywhere, cars in every stall, trees abundant and the water is crystal clear. This summer day is not too humid, but of course, its on the Lake, so I expect it... we play until dusk breaks and i find myself smoking WHILE playing. Geez louise... and then i witness the most perfect save from across the whole length of the field. The save turns into one desperate kick that lands perfectly on me mates' head which soars directly towards me. All i do is move my foot an inch and it slams into my toes and into the goal past a diving goalie. It happened in less than 4 seconds and blew everyone's mind for it was as if the ball was finding us. We stopped the game after that. You cannot keep playing after perfection reveals itself as so. 
As we stumble back to the cars as if we'd been drinking all night, i wonder who are these people? My great grandparents and their friends? complete strangers? actual soccer players from that time? The soccer ball is a huge lemon, half-peeled as if it were ragged from being kicked relentlessly... used and loved with fervor. The group starts to dissolve before my eyes as everything around me crumbles. The laughter fades and the smoke dissipates... except now there is my girl, who is anxiously puffing and waiting for me by our tug boat which is sitting in a stall reserved for me as if it were dropped onto the concrete from the heavens. It felt like I think we floated home, but then again all i smelt was amber waves of her lost lipstick.

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