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April 23, 2008

Last entry for class

I had hoped to have two more posts before the end of the term but the last post that I wanted to do required the aid of people whom I could not get into contact with tonight. Hopefully, they will be up soon. So this is my last post for the class. Kennedy is some type of aspiring author and likes to try and expand himself by writing about what happens to him. In this case he has tried to do some type of stream of consciousness experiment with the events that followed the return of the group back to the church. Calvin has come back with them and at some point, Mrs. Waterson and Calvin both are unable to be found. Here is what he felt.

Sitting here watching church. engaging God? i hope i touch heaven at somepoint today otherwise this whole thing would be a bit pointless. He is somuchmore present in almost anyplace but here. here i search for Him like a fishergod with my line under 8 ft of invisibling water. ha when i’ma fisherfish i find God, rarely trout. here, there are big banners and people waving them with tears and shouts and Godsightings and words and words and praises and thus saieths. i’m happy for them and i’ve been them before. what days. david impersonation dances are the best ones. i’m bored though and sleepy. headdownonpewHolyNap. Tap.Tap. Hey, Ryan why is your face down like that, with heavy sighs and darting eyes? “I saw your mom in the back a few minutes ago with Calvin and now no one knows where either of them are. I’ve been trying to find them but I can’t. Come help me look through the warehouse and we’ll meet in the kitchen.” Great. my mother missing + ((addicted + homeless + coming down) man) + scary warehouse + unarmed me. when did i enter this horror movie? my feet shout into the warehouse where sounds jumps on walls and shake imposing racks full of goodwill clothes and canned foods. we’re right here they say. i could be shot in the dark cool meat of my back while i stood in the dark cool back of this meat locker. i hear rustlings that never happen, hear phantoms glide behind my head. there’s still worship in the adjacent sanctuary. why didn’t we stop it? microphone tap tap. ahem. amen. yes, we are going to need stop praising the LORD, my mother is missing with a fellow that i don’t trust fully. oh, well. i can’t stop now, i’ve got troubles on my mind. (and that last line, taken from a Keane song plays on repeat from now until the point when i do eventually find my mother. occasionally venturing into afew other lyrics.) i dance around rows and columns and climb the supermegaultra-agrocrag or garbage bags stuffed with clothes that mostly rich white people think are fashionable enough now for the poor black people they see on the streets to wear. fully expecting to throw my foot through a bag and see my mom’s face like when Darth Vader’s mask explodes in Empire after Luke has the vision in the cave. i’m in my own cave. this is a moment of initiation. entering masculinity. defending helplessness. the force moves through you. Obi Wan has joined those phantoms in this warehouse. he’s a good phantom though. here it is, here’s kitchen. and here’s mom. and here’s calvin and that pizza. mother dear, may i have a moment in the hallway? “Yea, whatsup Ken?” oh, no grand problem, just have had my heart breaking my ribcage forfear for last 2o mins. maybe we don’t run off with random unknown factors in the future? “Oh, Ken don’t be silly. Calvin wouldn’t hurt a fly. I trust him and I knew that I was safe. I always had someone within shouting distance.” that may be the case but it wasn’t me you could shout to. not me.