five pieces
Early this week Jennie! did a meme and tagged everybody at the end, and then Kat! picked it up, and I guess I am too largely because I haven’t been able to think of anything else to write about. I’m almost sure I did it wrong, though, because I don’t do memes very often and also I can barely read or write.
One:
I sat as still as I could in what little shade was offered next to my car there in the parking lot, a lifetime of instinct telling me that all I needed to beat the oven-like heat of midsummer was to be still and wait for the breeze from the sea to wash over me. It didn’t work, of course, not here in this tiny Oregon town so far from the ocean and everyone and everything that I’d grown up with. What did you expect? I thought, never one to refrain from kicking myself when I was down. You went through quite a bit of effort to fuck up your own life. Is it any wonder you’re here, working this lousy job, living with these backwards, small-minded people?
I’d come here fleeing the mess I’d gotten myself into in California, banking on spending no more than six months living with my family to get back on my feet before moving back home, or maybe somewhere in the Bay Area or even Palm Springs. I’d had offers from friends to live in either place. Yet nearly a year later here I was, still piecing together my next move, and selling groceries to the residents of a farming town that didn’t know quite what to make of me. Between my dark eyes and brown skin and a name apparently so foreign most couldn’t bring themselves to attempt it and, paradoxically, the ability to speak perfect English, no one here seemed to know what to make of me. I wish I were joking about that last one: on several occasions I was treated to the open-mouthed astonishment of someone who had slowly and carefully asked me a question only to have me interrupt with a well-formed sentence in reply. “My God!” they’d exclaim, “where did you learn to speak our language so well?”
“Well, I think the public school I attended in San Diego was probably better than the one you have here.”
“How did you wind up there?”
“It’s where I was born. And raised. Your turn.”
“Are your parents from America?”
“My mom was born about six blocks from here in Silverton Hospital. My dad is from Mexico City. Hey, maybe we can talk about your family now!”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m not surprised. Here’s your receipt! Have a great day!”
I grudgingly stood up and began walking back towards the store, my break over. On the way back in I walked around a truck that had just pulled up; the mud-splattered doors opened to reveal the mud-splattered occupants. Maybe they were staring at me; maybe they weren’t. I decided I didn’t care anymore. In ten years these people will still be here, burning their trash piles and throwing beer cans in the river. I will have moved on, and my time spent here will be no more than a footnote in the story of my life.
Two:
Seeing my distant expression, she asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“My to-do list,” I said, still staring at the horizon. “Not counting work, I had five things I came up with to do today.”
“And what are those?”
“Well. Cut out of work early. Hop on my bike. Eat ice cream with a pretty girl in a sun dress. Watch the sun set over the city.”
She took another lick of her ice cream before saying, “That’s only four.”
“I know,” I said, grinning. “The day’s not over yet!” I stood up and turned back towards the bench, holding my hand out. “There is one more thing. Come on.”
She took my hand and let me pull her to her feet. “What are we doing now?”
“You’ll see.”
Three:
“There is,” I began, and then thought better of speaking with my mouth full of chicken. After chewing and swallowing I started again: “There is nothing better than an all-you-can-eat buffet after spending the whole day in the ocean.”
Niels grunted his agreement while he finished devouring a slice of pizza. “Except for maybe that drive-through barbecue restaurant in Seaside.”
“Oh man, I forgot about that place. If we go surfing next weekend let’s hit Arcadia Beach so we can swing by there afterwards.”
“Sweet,” he said. We stacked our empty plates at the edge of the table before standing up. “Round two!”
Four:
I shooed away my pet kangaroo and picked up another handful of grapes before using the intercom to ring the commander for a status report. On one of the monitors I watched him tense up and sigh before delivering his line: “The shield generators are almost in range, my lord. You’ll be able to begin landing your troops soon.”
I reflected that he was probably getting a little tired of me asking him this question. This was the third time I’d ordered a reenactment of the Battle for Hoth this week, and no doubt he was wishing I would move on to some other form of entertainment soon. Tough, I thought. I didn’t sink millions of dollars of my vast fortune into building full sized working AT-ATs to just have them sit around and NOT blow the bejeezus out of the countryside.
Maybe, I thought, stroking the thin John Waters-esque mustache I’d adopted recently, if the Godzilla and King Kong robots I set my engineers to creating are delivered on schedule, I can march my AT-ATs into New York City for a giant sized Battle Royale. Now THAT would entertaining.
At this moment my manservant entered to refresh the tobacco in my gold-plated hookah. “Standish,” I said, addressing him, “do you know what the only bad part is about being a billionaire?”
He tensed up and sighed before asking, “What is that, sir?”
“Nothing! HA HA HA HA HA!”
Come to think of it, he was probably getting tired of me asking him that question, too.
Five:
As the jet pulled up and away from SFO, I pressed my face against the window, watching not just the ground recede but also watching all the places I’d lived in the last few months receding in my mind’s eye, fluttering away in the wind and falling behind me as we accelerated. I saw houses in San Diego and Palm Springs and San Mateo slipping away into the past. I saw the beach and the local pier as I had seen on so many summer days after school; I saw it at night, when I’d gone there to stand with my bare feet in the sand two days before I left. Staring out at the breakers, I realized that wasn’t reflected moonlight I was seeing: as each wave rose up, luminescent plankton would light up all along its length, each crest glowing blue for a second before the wave broke. It was the first time I had ever seen such a thing.
The plane banked, pointing its nose north towards Oregon, where I’d no doubt add a few more houses to the list of places I had lived. I finally pulled my eyes away from the cities racing away and, settling back in my seat, looked forward. I’d avoided doing so for far too long already.
Silverton? Really? Well, that explains THAT paragraph. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to live there, for you. Eesh. (On the other side of the coin, no one would give you a second glance here in Mac, even though it’s still kind-of backwards, compared to Portland.)
I don’t understand this meme, though…I need the rules. Must go check out Jennie’s blog. But, even tho’ I didn’t understand the premise, it was entertaining!
See, I told you I sucked at memes. And McMinville is far and away cooler: it has the Spruce Goose! What other city can say that?
Well, no cities, unless Howard Hughes had a copycat somewhere. You don’t suck at memes…I checked Jennie’s site, and now I TOTALLY understand your answers!
Way more creative than just answering normally.
As far as number one is concerned…
My brother’s wife is Mexican (well, born and raised in Washington, but…) Anyhow…my niece and nephew on that side are all dark haired, dark eyed, very much “foreign” looking…but, they all have very Irish sounding names. It’s hysterical to see people’s reactions to THAT!
“Wait. Bailey?? What? I…I don’t understand…”
memes make it easy, and this is why i love them.
and for the record, this is executed the opposite of poorly.
adena, sweet! We should all get together for corned beef and frijoles sometime!
kat, I will accept just about any writing prompt at this point — in fact if you want to toss another one my way I’ll gladly accept.
I suppose I should put the rules for the meme here, for those who aren’t clicking through or are otherwise unfamiliar with it:
1. What were you doing 10 years ago?
2. What 5 things are on your to-do list today?
3. Snacks I enjoy
4. Things I would do if I were a billionaire
5. Places I have lived
When I read your meme yesterday, I was like “uh what the fuck are the rules?” but didn’t seem to care after getting sucked into your talented imagery. Now that I know what the rules are, I am so doing this….and with your specfic twist, or a twist of my own :).
PS - Number two was my favorite, mostly because I’m a romantic like that.
I really enjoyed this, and not knowing the rules for it as I read gave it a nice sense of mystery.
Hilly, you are welcome to dream up the fifth item on the to-do list for yours.
claire, thanks! I was trying to give it a bit of a different feel.
Dude. If this is you with writer’s block, we can’t be friends if you stop having The Block. Don’t worry though, you’re not alone. Kat! can out-write me with both hands tied behind her back and The Block sitting on her forehead, too.
This was excellent.
shari, you take that back because I’ll quit this blog before I’ll lose you as a friend. also it’s my aspiration to write as well as kat! someday.
This: “because I don’t do memes very often and also I can barely read or write” made me giggle.
Also, I wish I had a pet kangaroo.
If you had a billion dollars you totally could! Also I think you were a lot more altruistic with your money, I just built giant Star Wars machines.
I’m going to be honest here, I don’t give a shit about most memes.
However I found your usage of AT-AT’s faaaaar too appealing.
Well played, sire.
I loved this.
Also, how did I get a picture when I comment?
[...] Okay maybe *you’re* not, but I sure am. So thanks to the beautiful way that kat! and Vahid handled this meme, I too have spun it in my own direction. Each question is answered with a third [...]
I was pointed over here by Hilly’s link … this meme rocks! Or at least you guys are rocking it.
And since I am a total meme whore (I blame my love of list-making), I must do this one myself. With my own twist, of course.
P.S. Your NYC pic I loved so much? Printed it, framed it and hung it. You’ve gotten many more compliments.
Dustin, I have to admit if I were that rich I’d also sponsor research for turning chimpanzees into Ewoks.
Abigail, thank you! Also: Gravatars!
SJ, glad you liked it! (the post and the photo)
Wow… I am suitably impressed! That was probably the most well-done meme I’ve ever read!
Are you sure you don’t do them very often?
Over here from Hilly’s site. I’m now adding you to my favorites; hope ya don’t mind :).
Please do, and welcome! And yeah, I don’t do them very often. As you will soon realize I am almost completely illiterate.
There, I finally did my version of it:
http://tinyurl.com/5doaau
[...] Vahid [...]