RACECAR's New Writeups

Playing for keeps (idea)

2013-04-22T06:02:49Z

I Hope the exit is joyful, and I hope never to returnâ

Frida Kahloâs last words.

I live in a box of potential and the walls sing a song of promise. They promise security in a world of uncertainty. Uncertain of choice, uncertain of faith, uncertain of all the choices we never took.

I once believed in a world of progress, I did progress. I became a person of value, of fame. In the meantime, I maintained a wondrous indifference to the world. I embraced that apathy and ran as far as I could, away.

Guatemalan Worry Dolls (essay)

2012-10-04T06:17:41Z

Back in the 1990âs, I was busy playing guppy with all the girls and wide eyed with lots of fake promises to myself about the future. I barely knew where I was at the time, and could only imagine where I might go. I read lots of books that peddled to inquisitive natures like, âThe Tao of Pooh, âThe Doors of Perceptionâ, âWhereâs Waldo?â. Stuff I could talk to girls about. Wide ideas and a narrow experience. I knew I was lost, but I wanted to be there. I thought Ben Wa Balls were something to spin in your hand for meditation for crissake

I was young and alone and the only thing I had going for me was I was a boisterous extrovert. Fast to make friends and shake hands. I was absurd and small and obnoxious. I would strip my clothes off on a whim. I slapped people in the face. It was an awful part of my life that was only a manifestation of the loneliness of wanting to be alone. When I was alone, I worried. I tried…

How to be a Better Person (idea)

2012-03-21T05:36:18Z

Moments pass. Over and over as I roll through each day. It isnât much different than before, except I awake earlier and two young toddler people mandate I care for them. Some days, I mix oatmeal with bananas or raisins, other days I soak bread in a mixture of egg, milk, cinnamon and sugar and fry it in butter. Some days, I wish it was another day.

I am so lonely, yet my only wish is to spend some time alone. Two other halves of me are always in my context. I love them, but they tire me.

When things get rough, I go for a drive. I pack the kiddos and the mongrel dog up in the minivan and I just drive. I listen to songs on the radio and cry my eyes out. I have a lot of grief I never dealt with. I let it all out inside the songs, the road I drive on, the trees overhead and the occasional train track we roll over. Tears stream down my face and I hope no one sees me through my…

Like A Leaf Furrowing Into The Ground (person)

2010-12-08T06:27:20Z

Before, I would whittle away meantime with a semblance of discovering something important. The whole I felt of ideas were a reflection of the person I thought inside me. My snail soul. My feelings were just young, misrepresent, lost in an abyss of selfish apathy buried in a want. A want for love, for knowledge, acceptance, pride, all of the wants. Most of all, the important.

I would try desperately to understand and to seek approval from pretty girls and guppy love. I strung words in necklaces that became ornate doilies on thrift store shelves, unwanted, brittle and yellow. Weak. When someone is cold or afraid, they might be described as,

âShaking like a leafâ. Leafs are fragile, they are subject to wind. They blow away.

I have shook like a leaf before. Once, atop a waterfall in Laos, stepping stone over a slippery slope with a Polish girl who was afraid and pushed into…

On hearing your voice cracked with tears (person)

2009-04-16T05:42:18Z

Waste time. Itâs worth it until you get to the meaning.

I remember hearing my own voice as a child on the reel to reel tape recorder my mother used to send my father messages to in Vietnam. My voice sounded, weird. In my head, my voice sounded different and I came to a profound epiphany that my voice and also how I felt wasnât communicated to others the way I thought.

Thinking will get you just to more thinking.

Just. Then more.

I always wanted to write. To string my words to woo girls in study hall or to just let go of all the awful and wonderful thoughts that made my being grow too big for my body. I figured that words would set me free, disperse the pain and happiness I felt into other people or into the abyss of the unknown world I only imagined. I was right.

My words dispersed, left and went to places I never…

March 12, 2009 (thing)

2009-03-12T06:02:55Z

Gob Bless You

I have my Dictionary next to me just in case.

Gosh. I didnât think it would be this difficult hitting the right keys.

Flashing curser.

Perhaps I should go walk around the apartment to get myself together.

Maybe listen to the radio or something.

When I was a kid, my dad would wake me up to go get groceries on Saturday morning. Weâd hit all the usual spots, getting fresh ground Italian Sausage, fresh kneaded pizza dough, squeezed out of a panty hose from some old Italian Lady, mozzarella cheese. A case of beer.

Some penny candy where we bought the case of beer.

Those were the days. Know what I mean?

These days, Iâm just a guy ready to turn 35 years of age. A week from now or less. March 17th. St Patrickâs day. It has been my birthday every year of my life. It is a splendid holiday. People dress in the color green and wave four leaf clovers at one another.…