Jess. Its been a while since I slept more than three hours at a time. I am up unto all hours of the night working on... something. What could it be you ask? What could your old friend Caleb be doing so long into the night? Why does he go to sleeps and reawaken with a thick shimmer of dull gray smeared across the underside of his right hand? Why does his own good friend's face ripple all around his head wether he is sleeping- or not? Why can he recall with absolute perfection every line and facet of her face? What is he doing you may wonder? And why would he spend four hours a night doing it for nearly a week now? Jess you may soon see... ^_^ Its been quite an undertaking, and I've gone through several so far, I figure there will be at least seven before the last one is finally finished. At least- to where I'm satisfied with the result. Or at least that's what it's looking like so far...
Rest assured, when its done- you'll recieve another package in the mail. And it will either blow your mind, or just freak you out. Eesh... I ache all over! I need to get some sleep. Well heck- its first hour and the teacher is away so we have a substitute. I'm going for a nap... :)

Part 1:

It didn’t seem to make much sense
To cross the field and jump the fence
Of hopeless, lifeless, drudgery
Without one last activity.

That’s what they said, and quite a lot.
They all together claimed I ought
To go to one last final prom
Just join the fun, and play along.

No not a chance, I told each one.
I’ve been to prom and had no fun.
And this year I will not attend.
There is too much I must amend

For students in my school are not
The kindest kind of mentioned lot
They hate me guys, so now you know
The reason that I cannot go.

A certain friend by name of Jess
Protested my uncanny quest
To stay away from prom that night
But we’re good friends, and didn’t fight

She merely wanted me to know
That were it her she’d surely go
She’d do it too, that is to say
If she’d not lived so far away

Three thousand miles and last best guess
And still protests my freakish quest
On continents so far away
“Just go to prom!” She’d often say.

But no, I told her I could not.
I would not even grant the thought
That showing up that fateful night
Would generate any delight

Poor Jess though still so far from me
I’d take her if I could you see
Which may not be, I could soon
Exactly what she had in mind.

Where she lives there are no such things
As proms and other sufferings.
She doesn’t get to turn it down!
And thus resulting in a frown.

Although Australia's quite a place
They haven't developed the taste
That yet creates that kind of dance
Around which adolescents prance

A good thing to, Jess- I informed.
There are things that can't be ignored.
The nature of a prom these days
is all about between the legs.

Its sad I know but its the truth
And dancing normal is no use.
These modern moves and pouding beats
The rythms that direct their feet

Just rubbing, rubbing up and down
They'll even take it to the ground
And continue the action there.
Although, it doesn't matter where.

Unlike most students that I know
I don't want to mate through my clothes.
While dancing to a quaking step
With some girl that I've just now met.

Perhaps abnormal, for a guy
But I'm not quite the common kind.
Thus I declare in poetry.
Those things just don't appeal to me.

Without a reason to attend,
Without obligation to send
myself into a world unknown-
I sat contentedly, at home.

Sort of...

Its 9pm and long past dark.
Still sitting here a world apart
From everyone I ever knew.
Alone a home, nothing to do.

Four hours ago I'd been elsewhere
Helping a friend of mine prepare
For his prom at another school
Heck, if he wants to go that's cool.

Amazingly, what a surprise,
Four hours later my poor eyes
were drooping at a rapid rate
With no way here to recreate.

I shrug my shoulders, grab the phone
So I don't want to be alone-
Big deal, I'll just dial up my friend...
Oh, his cell phone's off again.

No matter, I can drive you know.
I just stop by and say hello.
The boy is at his prom tonight
To him I'd be a welcome sight.

I'm wearing nice clothes at a glance.
A sky blue shirt and khaki pants
So technically I look alright
For going to a prom that night

I parked a bit across the street
And the hotel at which they'd meet
When prom was over- at midnight
Across the street and then: Sleep tight!
Tsk tsk, at highschool prom? Yeah right!

I jogged a bit across the way
Intent on only a short stay.
Just to pop in and say hello.
A word or two and then I'd go.

The problem though with walking in
to proms for schools I don't attend
is it takes tickets to be there
And I had not yet paid my fare.
But still somehow, I didn't care

I snuck around the entryway
with stealth unrivaled to this day
And four policemen guard the door
That would lead to the prom dance floor

Inside the door there's clearly labeled
The prom's official ticket table
"Hey I'll get that door for you."
"Well thank you sir, how do you do?"

I pulled the door, was thanked again,
And followed the two students in
I guess now in truth I can say
Chivalry still goes a long way.

I let the door click shut behind me
The ticket table loomed unkindly
I formed a smile and merely walked.
The ticket-takers merely gawked.

I passed as if nothing was wrong
And sure enough, before too long
they shrugged their shoulders uselessly
And not one of them bothered me.

Just three steps later, there I was
And feeling kind of lost because
There was no orgy present there
In fact, no orgy anywhere!

Which pleased me greatly all too soon
Turns out I'm just in the wrong room.
I found the orgy soon enough
I never have enjoyed this stuff.

I'm looking quickly for my friend-
I haven't much time to expend.
A fifteen-minute stay I planned.
Because the prom is out of hand.

After a while, my friend walked in.
He saw my face and frowned and then
I smiled, though again all too soon.
“Caleb you’re in the wrong room!”

I followed him back through the halls
The music thundered through the walls
He knows my preference, always has.
And thus we found the room of jazz.

Screwerize it Jess! This poem is took long! We’re breaking it into sections. I’ll post the remainder when I get it finished! Happy Rhymetacular day! Bouncy bouncy bouncy…

I’ll just bet this comes as a surprise doesn’t it? You want the whole story? All of it? Every last detail? Well just sit back, Jess. Relax. And enjoy the ride.

3:15pm - Southeast Joplin
It was blistering outside, which is hardly anything unusual nowadays. Being that we’re still in the longest and most severe drought this area has seen since the 1950’s, the presence of mass amounts of dry heat wasn’t surprising to me, nor was it to my good friend Arby.
I was parked ever so precariously between the fenders of two trucks in the parking lot of the only five star hotel within fifty miles, the Joplin Holiday Inn. I was standing at a decent distance, facing away from the hotel’s imposing structure, gazing through a black pair of sunglasses at a far different world below. Just across the street and over a broad grassy ditch was the Hammon’s Trade Center, a community building used for nearly anything that requires a great amount of space and all the regular indoor essentials like running water and electricity. The last time I had even been near this place was when Frank Peretti, a well known author in these parts, passed through on tour and spoke about Darwinism vs. Creationism. I spoke personally with Mr. Peretti that day. I happened to have read every single book he’d ever published, and by the end of the week, he had read one of mine. All of that, naturally has nothing to do with anything currently relevant and was a total waste of time reading on your part. I apologize.
The Hammon’s Trade Center was a buzz with activity, there was a big event scheduled for that night. A very big event indeed. And it was somehow the prospect of that event that had brought me here, standing alone in the parking lot of the Holiday Inn many meters away watching with some curiosity as the scene unfolded below me. There were about twelve people so far running two and fro across the parking lot with all manner of particle board and tapestry and light and sound equipment, preparing of course, for the night, and attendance of what was expected to be at least 600 people.
Arby walked out of the Holiday Inn, squinting in the sun. “Well, I’m in.”
“Excellent.” I returned.
“Uh…” He said looking around. “Where’s your car?”

When I pointed towards my car a mere five meters away, still sitting exactly where I had left it still clamped between the two trucks Arby began towards it and I followed briskly. I didn’t ask how much the room cost, I didn’t think to do so at the time, but it was nice. Compact, livable, adorned with nearly every appliance my good friend needed (which only means that the coffee maker was operational and the coffee beans were in good supply).
I had done the favor of driving my good friend to the hotel and aiding his moving into it for the single night he intended to make it his home. It was a joy just to watch his mind work. Mostly because I’ve always enjoyed watching the gears in his head rotate and clank around their numerous possibilities, but tonight it was more about the fact that his poor parents thought he was staying at a friends house, and here he was purchasing a hotel room for the night. (shrug)
Once all the stuff was unloaded, I glanced out the window at the rising excitement two stories below in the HTC parking lot. They’d started the music a while ago. I had to laugh.

4:30pm – Northern Joplin
The thing is, and I don’t know if you quite caught this, Arby and I do not attend the same school. We’re brothers regardless, but we do not both go to the same building for our educations. The reason for this is simple: He lives in Joplin. I live in Webb City. So he naturally attends the hellhole known as Joplin High School. And I attend the slightly less hostile hellhole known as Webb City High School. And all of the siblings also attend Webb City. April 22nd had been long ago scheduled by countless limo rental services and random eateries around the two cities as a night of absolute indulgence on the part of economic profit. April 22nd, both schools, Joplin High, and Webb City, were having prom.
Two cities.
Two proms.
Two hundred degrees weather.
Two million dollars in limo services, tuxedo rentals, and fine dining.
One absolutely insane night.
I was currently driving home to shower and change clothes. My dad wanted to take some senior photos today and I wasn’t exactly wearing anything classier than a t-shirt and torn jeans. That, and it was two hundred degrees outside, anything worn for more than an hour outside will be drenched. Like a law of nature. Just… one of the laws we don’t appreciate as much as the others and are more content to merely grumble about when they exact themselves upon our lives.
So I get home, pop open my door and I see my sister standing in the hallway draped in golden folds. My mother shuffles past with a camera. Wow… Prom starts in four hours and you’re… dressed and taking pictures… now? Sure enough. There are plenty of stops on this route. She had to take pictures here, at her boyfriend’s house, at my dad’s house, at school, at our grandparent’s house, at his grandparent’s house. Suffice it to say she had quite a docket ahead of her, and it was going to take some time. I smiled remembering in anti-nostalgic bliss. I remembered.
“What are you doing here?” My mother nettled.
“Hello to you too.” A reply.

5:45pm – His grandparent’s house.
My dad figured he’d kill two birds with one stone, which in this case meant he’d shoot two children with one camera. The moral ramifications of this act were actually nearer to that of killing two birds with a large rock due if nothing else to the fact that he wanted to take the pictures outside and poor Natalie’s boyfriend was in a tuxedo.
A word concerning Tuxedos. Tuxedos are acclaimed the world over for being the second most restrictive and cumbersome outfits a human being is capable of wearing without strangling himself. The first of course being a straight jacket. The nature of these suits directly limits the movement of the arms to only about thirty degrees from the waist. This, we can only assume, is because the tuxedo is also particularly good at trapping heat within its many layers of itchy, disrespectful fabrics, and to raise the arms any higher than that after any considerable period of time would effectively create a lethal biohazard no matter what amount of antiperspirant the wearer has applied. Having said that, James Bond is a phony, its hard enough to drive with any stability in one of these suits much less fight karate and shoot henchmen with one hand while holding some girl with which he is only slightly acquainted in the other while trapeze flying from one exploding skyscraper to the next.
Moving along.
He took a dozen random photos, made frequent reference to The Matrix whenever I felt the need to wear my ‘shades’ to prevent the blistering sun from burning my eyes out of their sockets, and told me often to stop picking my nose when I really don’t hoping that it would make me laugh so he could snap a photo where my face wasn’t contorted into an expression of either pure distress at the heat of the day or sheer futility while asking him to stop asking me to stop picking my nose.
Then I went home.

8:36pm – (my father’s house)
I did him the favor of uploading the digital photos to the computer for him because well… he asked me to. They were all atrocious.
That was two hours ago. For the two hours following I had sat in a chair in front of a computer screen just… farting around in my nice clothes used for the photos and drew pictures using an 3D architectural program called Sketchup. I crafted a futuristic Semi-Truck. It looks phenomenal. Took me two hours and then I sat back and gazed in wonder at my work, decided that I had completely wasted two hours of my life, shrugged, and continued texturing the vehicle.
I checked the clock. Both proms had started thirty-six minutes ago. I smiled. Arby was either having the time of his life, or, as I was more inclined to believe, was wandering around trying to figure out why he can’t raise his arms above his navel. I smiled…
I walked over to the phone and dialed his number. It directed me clean through to his voicemail, which meant that he had turned his cell phone off, and the rarity of that occurrence pushed the odds of him actually having the time of his life closer to equality with the bit about the navel. I hung up, assuming (correctly it turns out) that he was somewhere accomplishing both at once and walked back to the computer. I closed the truck, laughed aloud at how richly pathetic my existence is, and then… I don’t know why I did it. I got in the car- and drove.

9:03pm – Joplin Holiday Inn.
I parked carefully; there were quite a few cars about as it was, and I didn’t have any intention of banging into one of them. I got out and gazed across the broad ditch and street. The Center was pounding with music and all manner of freakish lights flickered and flashed from within the building. I bit my bottom lip.
And then I began to walk. Step by step, one in front of the other, across the bridge that spanned the two lots. My feet hit fresh pavement.
They were now one hour and five minutes into their prom. I didn’t attend this school; I really had no business being there. I was a foreigner. And no one there really knew me. I walked all the way across the lot to the far side of the building, the farthest side from the hotel. Then I circled back, and followed a couple up to the doorway, past the row of four police officers standing and chatting amusedly amongst themselves when they should have been paying attention to security, which was the reason they were there. I bounded ahead and kindly opened the door for the couple, they thanked me, I nodded appreciatively, and followed them in.
Prom’s are big events, needless to say. They have a tendency of being particularly exclusive. Tickets are not normally inexpensive. And to purchase a ticket you have to present your school ID a few days before the prom while in school and reserve your existence. Now as I mentioned, I don’t attend this school. Obviously I’m not going to have a school ID, which means ultimately that I’m not going to have a ticket to get into this Prom. Which is exactly why I blithely walked right through a crowd of people, past behind the ticket table, smiled at the ticketers who obviously didn’t know what to make of me and just smiled back, and walked into the main room.
I was the only male there not wearing one of the fancy straight jackets. And that fact alone was enough for me to enjoy the moment. I intended just to be there not over fifteen minutes. My intention was to find Ryan, make fun of his suit, see how he was taking the experience, and leave.
Something happened.
The Prom was unusually considerate to the various tastes present in various people who attend the school. There were three immense rooms. The first room I entered was dead center, and was ever-so-appropriately dubbed- “The Phantom of the Opera Room.” On the large projector screen at the far end of the room the movie, Phantom of the Opera, was playing silently. In the center on the room, atop a platform, was a quartet of two violinists and some other instruments playing happily. All around the room were tables with candles and random guys pacing about with trays of little… cheesy cucumber things passing people asking- “Hors duerve? Hors duerve?”
I ate an hors duerve. ^_^
There weren’t many people there, and Arby was not among the few, so I followed the loudest sound present in the compound. Whereupon I found myself standing in the collective orgy I mentioned in the last relevant article.

PAUSE:
SWEET JESUS! ITS RAINING BUCKETS OUTSIDE! HOLY CRAP IT’S A MIRACLE! Wow! Jess its nineteen minutes into Monday and there is a downpour unprecedented breaking across the city. Holy crap… The drought has been broken. There is thunder and lightning and wind… Oh so much wind. And the RAIN!!! YEAH!!!!! Oh this is good ne WOAH!
Hold on let me save this real quick. Okay. Lightning just blew open a tree in the field beyond our house. I can see it though the window. It sparked a bit and almost started burning but there’s just too much water in the air! It’s awesome! It just… came up out of nowhere in the darkness! Wow… good news indeed.
Back to our story then- UNPAUSE.

The majority of the orgy was situated in the center of the room; a DJ was controlling music from a platform with a shimmering backdrop composed of flashing images taken from the film Moulin Rouge.
I watched in awe for a few moments, and then Ryan walked in the door. “Caleb!?”
“Oh hi Ryan!”
“Caleb I’m in the jazz room. Why would I be here?”
I shrugged. “There’s a jazz room?”
“Yeah, how could you come looking for me in the orgy room? You’re stupid Caleb.”
I smiled. “Enjoying yourself?”
“I lost Stephanie. But so far so good.”

Wow. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so much rain… oh holy crap! My car windows are all open!!! ACK! I’ll be right back!
Okay… I’m all wet now. But if I’m lucky the interior of my car will be dry in the morning. It isn’t dry now, its soaking. One excellent reason to invest in a garage. I flew out the door in nothing but a pair of khaki pants and I would have hit a tree and added a new scar to the already bountiful assortment on my head if a streak of lightning hadn’t just blown across the sky as if to say- “HEY! LOOK OUT!” just before I nearly plowed into it. I got to my car and yanked the door open. Grabbed my car key and fumbled it quickly towards the ignition switch so I can start the power. There is a river flowing down the interior of my door, I’m not exactly staying high and dry either. I find the key slot and instantly- drop my key in the dark. I hear it ping against something and drop to grope around in the darkness of my floorboard for it. Like… twenty seconds later, my finger hits it, it flies up, into the ignition switch, car on, windows rolling up… up… good! Okay! Key comes back out, door flies open I bounce out, close the door behind me, go bounding across the lawn, smack my head into a thin branch belonging to the very same tree and all the rain in its leaves is suddenly upset, water explodes all over me, I reach my house door throw it open, lurch inside and close it behind me… I am soaked wet… so much for these pants I guess… But at least my car has the potential of being dry. Yay!

I follow Ryan to the Jazz Room, which is amazing. Jazz or course, is flowing gently through the air, the atmosphere has been crafted to resemble what appeared to be a combination of 1920’s New York and 1950’s France. The effect was great. Arby introduced me to a number of people I had met before and we all shook hands and joked about nonsense and they all laughed at me for just… walking into their prom and all.
I went and got a drink from their tables, had it direct served to me this fancy little thing with a mini straw. I ate some more hors duerves, voted for a member of the prom royalty, don’t know who they heck they were but I figured that as long as I was there I might as well… Ryan toddled off in search of Sir. Stephanie again and that left me standing peacefully in the middle of the Jazz Room sipping my drink and listening to a very good song.
As soon as the song ended I decided it was probably about time to move along. I walked of the Jazz Room and into the walkway between the multiple rooms where a number of suits and dresses were congregating. I was even nearly out the door when I heard a familiar voice.
“Caleb!”
I turned around and there was Bimal Patel, a coworker of mine, originally born in India, and a absolute nutter. “Hey Bimal, how are ya?”
We struck up light conversation, he introduced me to his date, I said hello, she says hello, yes, no, thank you, how are you? Doing fine, you? I’m good. Good. Yeah it is. Can you believe this weather? I know. Say Caleb. Yes Bimal, do you go to school here? Uh, no. Oh… Your date goes here then…
Uh no, not exactly that either.
He paused, perplexed. “Then how the heck are you here?”
“The same way you are, I walked in.”
“But-”
“Hold on,” I stopped him. I had just noticed how close we were to the ticket table. A conversation like this overheard by the wrong people would not bode well. Through a roundabout way, I ended up following Bimal back to the orgy room and explaining the entire ordeal. He about had a coronary.
People started asking what all the laughing was about, and soon enough I was explaining myself to everyone in the entire district! Every student that is. And they all thought it was hilarious. More people came over, turns out I knew some of them. Some were old friends I hadn’t seen in… well in ages, six years at least. And here we were now, graduating and… well it was interesting. I ended up standing in that room conversing with everyone I had forgotten I ever knew and just… talking. Someone else that I knew from work told me to come join the dance; I politely informed her that I am unable to dance and would not force the crowd to endure witnessing my attempt.
So anyway somehow I ended up kinda… dancing. And that was all right as long as there was no one rubbing up against me like tires on asphalt. And there wasn’t… so… ^_^ it was strange. Here I was, somehow, accidentally, or not accidentally, at a prom for another school, and knew more people here than I did at my own school’s prom, and… I’m dancing? I don’t dance… I don’t… do I?

11:36pm – Hammons Trade Center
I looked at my watch.
“Holy Crap! I’m sorry guys, I have to go! I can’t believe I’ve even been here this long!”
There was a cacophony of goodbyes, and I fled the room. On my way out I passed the Principal of the school, Principal Hueller. He saw me, in his school’s prom, not exactly wearing a tuxedo, and called out to me.
“Hey Caleb!”
“Oh hi, Dan!”
“Well how are ya?” Came the cheerful voice.
“I’m good. You?”
“Doing great, enjoying the Prom?”
“It’s a great prom.”
“Uh huh.” He smiled. “So how’d your dad doing?”
“He’s good. Actually he’s doing really well.”
“Well good!” Answered the absurdly happy man. “You tell him I said hey okay?”
“We’ll do.”
“See ya Caleb.”
“Goodbye Dan!”

I was gone, it took two minutes for my feet to carry me the third of a mile from the exit to my car. All the way thanking God in heaven that I knew the Dan Hueller on a first name basis. That of course was because he used to work for my dad when my dad was a principal in another school. Ancient history now of course, but the connections it leaves behind certainly are useful sometimes.

11:58pm – My Dad’s House
I stumbled in the door after shutting off my car and made my way to the kitchen for a drink. My dad was asleep at this hour, a fact for which I was grateful at the moment because I had told him I only intended to stay for about 15 minutes, not three hours. I had told the truth of course… but I don’t own a cell phone, and my return home time didn’t exactly shine with innocence. Everyone else was awake. My little brother and youngest sister were downstairs watching Terminator 2, the classic battle between nearly invincible robot and some other nearly invincible robot and plenty of random barrels of fuel just… laying around waiting to be nudged by a light tap so for no explainable reason they can blow completely apart in slow motion and allow both nearly invincible robots an awesome backdrop as they tear the inorganic crap out of each other.
Natalie and Joe were somewhere outside having fun with each other. I trust Joe immensely because I’ve known him for a while. He’s a quality guy. I also trust him because he nearly had a nervous breakdown when Natalie insisted they go somewhere without my dad’s permission. It’s amazing.
I watched a little bit of the robot movie for a while. Then I stumbled upstairs and went to bed.

And that, my dear Jessica, is how April the 22nd, ended for one tired old soul who had no intention of going to prom. ^_^

P.S: It was great talking to you the other day! Again sometime soon perhaps!
P.P.S: I finished the fine tuning and texturing of the truck I drew the next morning when I woke up! It actually looks cooler than I thought it would! And I can crash it into things! It’s awesome!
P.P.P.S: Tonight (Monday) is the Awards Ceremony and Banquet for Speech and Debate! I get free stuff! YEAH!
P.P.P.P.S: I am crafting a rather lengthy poem about this very experience. Stay tuned. For it will be posted the moment it is finished (given of course adequate access to the internet.)

I acknowledge and understand that the work I’m using as the title of this letter is not actually a real word. I don’t care. :P I find too that after reading Thunderbroom that I am also bouncing in and rhyme schemes and rhythm. Even for having written the thing. You and I both are suddenly in rhyme mode. Which only means that you have an effective grasp on the English language and that both our brains patter on a similar rhythmic octameter.
Allow me to condense that into one sentence. You’re rhyming now too means we think alike! That, or the rhyming is infectious, contagious, and catchy. Yay! We’ve both got the poem bug. Hooray for Calico Cat! (you’ll see what I mean soon enough. ;)
Like I wrote yesterday. I sent two humongous emails to you and my email account server up and deleted both of them. The emails were really merely simple things. I sang immense praises of your poetry because it really was very good. And I spoke of my interview with the hospital and the blood drive, and about… (ahem) Prom.
All of these things were merely normal happenings I’m afraid. I will attempt to reiterate them here. I read each of your emails (blog comments?) with increasing excitement, when I finally got to your poem- I read it and was like- YEAH! This is awesome! Jess you rock at poetry!
And you were like- “Yeah I know it sucks so anyway whatever its crap yadda yadda yadda my poem is dumb blah blah blah it was the best I could.”
I laughed out loud.
HAHAHA! Jessica Bond! Ah! You’re so silly! And instantly began to type my reply. The big one, the one that committed suicide two seconds before I sent it.
There was a blood drive at school yesterday. I gave blood! YEAH! I saved three lives apparently. Well… up to three lives. If someone really REALLY needs blood than I’ll probably only save theirs. (shrugs happily) It took place at the school, during the school day! So I got to get out of class! Oh it was great. I just… up and left. I walk into the gym and there’s about thirty people swarming all over the floor carrying tubes and needles and filling out paperwork and all sorts of medical stuff. I show up and am like- I’m ready to give blood!
“OKAY!” Says the nurse more cheerful than a kid in a free lollipop store.
They have to run all kinds of tests on me to make sure I don’t have something nasty. They went ahead and asked me if I slept with men about three separate times and if I’ve ever been to Africa. Really creepy stuff. Then they took a sample. (Apparently I have really good blood. Nice.) When they get their tests back and it turns out that I don’t have AIDS (because I’m such a sexmonger you know. *rolls eyes) they take me over to the big chair I’m supposed to sit in for the duration of the donation. (Oh hey. Another rhyme!) I’m comfy and calm and sated and then they pull out his 16 gauge needle. (about 2.5mm across) The nurse was more shaky about putting it in than I was. She tells me not to look and pop slip bang there it goes.
Normally it takes about a half an hour to fill up the little bag thingy. So I’m happy here I get to sit here and lounge for a half an hour while all the poor cretins who didn’t think to donate are still sitting in class melting their brains.
“Wow, you’re pumping pretty fast there aren’t ya?” The nurse declares.
“Say what?”
“You’re already half full here.” She hold up the bag. Sure enough, I was. Wow…
Turns out my stupid heart is pumping powerfully enough at a constant rate that ends up filling the entire bag in thirteen minutes. Which sucks.
But it wasn’t quite over. They gave me a sticker and a t-shirt for my contribution. Following the donation I had to go sit down at a table in the gym and I got to just… fart around for a while with a bunch of other students just farting around because they were done donating as well. They make you stay and sit for a while and eat snacks and stuff because sucking all this blood out of your body is supposed to make you lightheaded. I felt great. But there was no way I was telling them that. I think they figured it out though when I asked for a pack of oreos and they tossed them to me. I reached up and snagged the things right out of the air with my right hand. The arm that they’d taken the blood from.
“You’re fine, go to class.”
Dang it. There were some of them in there that were near the edge of fainting… lucky ducks. I’d much rather faint then go back to class.
There was more but I’m in school and the bell is about to ring and send me on my way. So I figure I’d better post this. I’ll whittle out some more tomorrow I expect. Until then, have a lovely day. Its just thirty seconds after midnight there according to my watch. So… good luck with Friday. TGIF right? Whew… I’ll talk to you soon Jess. I’ll have another poem for ya before too long.
(Careful though, telling people that some guy in another country that you met on the internet is writing you poetry tends to raise some eyebrows…) J

-Caleb

I arrived at the post office after school. Actually, it wasn’t even immediately after school. It was after school, after my interview, after my trip back to Carl Junction looking for the infamous Terri Ristau without luck, and then to the post office. Apparently, I am not nearly as well informed as I imagined I would be, that is, concerning laws about what you can and cannot send in an envelope beyond the borders of this highly glamorized continent. Which is only to say that it came as a bit of a shock when I was informed that sending coins or any sort of currency out of America is prohibited. This means that at that time, I was unable to send any coins, as had been the original intent, though I sent a few things extra. Even so they said it will take about 47 days. 47 days? WoW! Holy Crap! That’s a long time… At the time means that I will have to begin sneaking coins into other things that I mail you. Perhaps one at a time even. Because considering the cost of sending what I sent- I imagine I may be sending you stuff all the time! In fact I’ll probably have another one sent before the first one arrives. :P
It cost less than half a gallon of gasoline. Speaking of which. America’s fuel prices are soaring, they’ve jumped thirty cents in the past TWO DAYS. No reason has been cited, its just… going up. And sending you messages via airmail is about to become the least of my financial concerns. (That is… my fuel tank is running a bit low.)
I would have killed to be there Jess, killed to be there. You and those friends of yours, Boy Band Blitz! Wow… you are so weird. ^_^ I love it. Your friends wouldn’t mind too much if you sent me photos would they? You are all nutters you are. Each one of you. Arby and I will have to try that. Get a banana and form a heavy metal rock band. Not because it’s the type of music we both prefer, but to maximize the hilarity. I’d send you pictures…
Hey! Its officially a million degrees out here! I do imagine your weather is due to get a bit cooler. Ours has been absolutely baking these last few days. You can fry an egg on asphalt when its mid afternoon! Utterly unbearable. Advice following such temperatures involves
1. Staying inside and sit around like a hobo all day long
2. Drink twice your weight in water
3. Stay in shaded areas, under trees or buildings and watch out for bird poo.
4. If your car has been sitting out under the blazing sun all day, don’t breathe in too quickly once you get inside the vehicle. This will extend the life of your nosehairs by not scorching them out of your nostrils.
5. Go swimming whenever possible. And splash everyone who happens by to keep them cool as well.
6. Carry an arsenal of water cannons and pistols whenever possible, water balloons as well where possible. Feel free to cool of your neighbors with a good squirt. The more generous your contribution, the more appreciative they should be. (surprise them with your generosity, sneak up and deposit your charity while they aren’t looking, fun, and healthy!)
Apparently our city is on a water shortage and they may have to begin rationing. We’re turning into a desert or something. It’s amazing. The city’s primary fresh water resource is a river that runs through a reservoir and is processed and sent out through all the pipelines. The word is that normally at this time of year, the water is supposed to be flowing at around four hundred feet per second. It hasn’t rained out here for long enough that the river is only flowing at around 56 fps. And there hasn’t been a cloud in the sky. Much more of this and soon enough everyone will just have to stop taking showers and never bathe and never brush their teeth! HahA! A joke… (hopefully! Eek!)
I’ll post this when I am able Jess. It now takes three computers for me to print now you know? On account of the floppy disk getting jammed in the disk drive and becoming irretrievable I am no longer able to carry files by any means whatsoever. Ergo- printing a document (as I have no printer) means writing the document on this computer, at home, then placing it on my zip disk using my stationary zip drive (the mobile one is broken!), carrying the zip disk to the library and using their special drive to upload the file to the internet, then waiting until the next day to go to school and download the file, open it up, and print it from there.
All that for ONE document! Oy it’s a nightmare. I get it done though. I printed my resume off this morning and went to the interview a few hours following. Its insane. Oh hey the pizza’s almost done. I can… mmm… smell it. ^_^ I also have an essay to write… I’ll have to print that too. I’m going to do homework and eat pizza so I will write again later, heck, before you know it you could be receiving letters from abroad on a weekly basis! Because at least THAT way is a heck of a lot more convenient than using three computers and twelve driving miles, and waiting two days to be able to post… Sooner or later I’m going to up and move down there and speak to you in person. That will be a laugh… I’ll bring a video camera and film it. That way I won’t have to ask for pictures of all the interesting things you and your nutter friends do. Oh! The pizza’s done! Gotta go Jess. Talk to you soon-

-Caleb