Saturday, October 26, 2013

Wes Anderson Futura

(Girls hiding under Aunt Christi's table before an epic game of Duck Duck Goose) 

I am not a fantastic Mr. Fox.  Indie film crews are not at my beck and call.
 (Rebekah's American Journal-  "We drove to Oak's park and ate swirl ice cream.  Then we played in the fountains of Hammerlee Park.  At home, we prepared to sleep in the tent outside.")

My suicidal brother has never heard of Bjorn Borg, and there are no boy geniuses in raspberry berets at my Rushmore.
 (Rebekah's American Journal-  "This morning we woke up and the field behind the home was covered in mist and we walked out into the tall grass, picked flowers, took pictures and saw a hawk swoop down to catch a mouse.")

Eli Cash never crashed my birthday party high on coke, and I have no German masochist Klaus at my disposal to “Break” the comedic tension. And if I did… he wasn’t wearing a red stocking cap and old school Adidas.  
 (Rebekah's American Journal-  "Today we were busy.  We went to church and cleaned the house, vacuumed the car and pitched the tent and climbed on the roof and threw the baseball and skyped mommy.")

Speaking of which, no one ever fitted me for an aquatic Speedo nor do I own a red track suit.  My Chief Steward aboard the Darjeeling Limited refuses to rock the Nehru too.
 (Rebekah's American Journal-  "We went to a movie theater to see 'The Croods.'  It was a funny, scary, sad movie and I really liked it.")

Charlie Brown is demanding I stop playing his Christmas song,  and Gwyneth Paltrow is apparently disregarding my “suggested notes” on eye liner.
 (Rebekah's American Journal-  "We went to Aunt Lisa's house for dinner.  She has a goat, chickens, sheep, a goose, turkeys, and a black lab named Lokie who loves to lick me.")

Pagoda is not cooking my eggs the way I like and my Portuguese guitarist is only covering Peter Frampton.  

 (Xian's American Journal-  "This morning we woke up and decided to go out and explore the field and forest in the mist.  While we were in the field, we picked flowers and took pictures int he tall grass.  While I was taking a picture of a flower, I saw a hawk swoosh down to catch a mouse.  Luckily, it wasn't Kiny (Kinu) and it was a really fun day.")

Bill Murray is not returning my Trans-Atlantic phone calls.
(Rebekah's American Journal-  "We played in the Colton House and made a patch to give to the birds.")

Despite this… I feel alright.  I’ve got Cowboys and Indians in war paint under the wood deck and drum parades with empty Cola bottles and oatmeal tins in the front gravel yard.  I’ve got a magnifying glass tied around my neck to checkout butterfly species at a moment’s notice and a map of Antarctica taped to my bedroom wall just in case.  I’ve read the Bible, the Qur’an, the Kabbalah, the I-Ching, The Tao, and the Tibetan Book of the Dead and my head didn’t explode.  When I wake up, I’m hungry.   When I go to sleep, I dream in very vivid color.  Big solid words flashing in my head.  They Say… EVERYTHING!

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