Thursday, March 14, 2013

It is logistically impossible to fight animals smaller than your feet


Anna and puppy are standing outside the church when I arrive. Borracho is asleep on the steps. She points. I walk over. Wake him up. Mi hermano, no es permiso a dormirse aqui duriente el dia. He looks up at me. Me siento mucho, pero se ncesita irse immediamente. Anna nods. Better make sure he’s not holding for someone, she says. I’ve got to go to a meeting. I’m going for coffee, keep an eye on him, OK? 

Jeremy comes in. We need to get  a new external hard drive so that he can transfer Zeljko’s raw interviews for our records. 

Stephen digging deeper into the organ issue, spreading his contacts wider.

Leila is here to start to set up for Friday night’s art opening.


When I arrive at the church, Danielle has been desperately calling me. The crazy gray bearded man with  a cowboy hat is playing the piano in the sanctuary. Sunglasses on. Has just scolded some of Martin’s dancers for smoking outside the church.

I walk into the sanctuary. So, what’s up? 
Ah, pastor, I have come to see you...what follows is one of the most amazing unbroken seven minutes raps I have ever heard. It includes international apocalyptic conspiracies, health tips, organic food recipes, a strategy including first warthogs and then pigs released into Syria, snakes, blood, blood in the air too heavy for airplane windshield wipers, references to the pilot of the universe, our role as children of the greater Israel...
Danielle’s favorite line: It is logistically impossible to fight insects smaller than your feet. 

Every sentence is complete and grammatically correct but every one stranger than the next, randomly collated, paranoid and grandiose. I am stupefied and unsure how to get him to stop.
..Pastor, your church is noted for being on the side of the just. You knew me before I came in here. I am watching out for you. I just kicked two smoke offenders out of here for you....

Wait, I have to tell you, that’s not your job, that’s our job, you can’t be doing that.

He smiles, winks. But you know, right? I was here before you knew it and you know it. This is a job of utmost importance. The stakes are very high. It’s no time for rabbits. In their holes. And alligators? It’s pigs into Syria, I tell you. We can supply the farmers. The Holy One of Israel, the Pilot, is not happy with us, let me tell you. It all goes back to when  we let the pyramids crumble. They must be rebuilt. We’ve got to let President Obama know.... 

I can tell you are on a mission of utmost importance. I say. You  have no time to lose. You have to get this word out.....immediately.

He looks at me. Smiles. I can see you’ve got the point. I need to be on my way. If we wore cowboy hats, we’d tap into that great American spirit.  ( I wish RL were here..)I see I’ve got two new believers.  New members of my army. With you two, we can begin to reclaim, repopulate the earth. And he looks at Danielle and I. But I don’t need to spell that out.

The world needs to hear this, I say. You must be on your way...

So I walk out with him. Martin and two flamenceras outside, smoking. The only thing you should smoke is Mother Nature, he yells at them. You are being poisoned, duped. You are tools. Field strip those soldiers and swallow the butts, you’ll never smoke em again. Then he tips his hat and is on his way. 

Martin looks at me. So do you know that guy? I look at him. I thought maybe he was a new tenant. And I look again. Then Martin and I trade lines from Peter Graves in the movie Airplane:
 Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit drinking. 
 Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit smoking. 
 Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue. 
Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit amphetamines 

The day must go on.

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