Yesterday Scott, the guy that has been living on the bunk across from me, said he is leaving in a week. Said he has a job lined up at a furniture factory, so I told him about a desk idea I have. We discussed it for a while and I drew up the design and gave it to him. As I handed it to him, I looked him in the eyes and said, "Make jobs with this." You see, I have so many ideas, I just have no idea on how to get them further than just a thought. If anyone can do good with them, it's better than them just dying with me.
I just noticed yesterday that you can see Soldier filed, home of the Chicago Bears from my bunk. Ok, it's just a part of that new upper section that looks like a silver UFO, between two buildings, about a mile away... it's still cool. 25 years ago I was at both playoff games before they went to the Superbowl. Extremely cold, I was so drunk and stoned, that is about all I can remember of it, that it was extremely cold. I never thought I would be living so close back then.
At a noon stage today I saw a guy sleeping in his seat in the auditorium. I had to look twice as it looked like he had a knife sticking out of his head and that he was falling over dead. Turns out it was just a hair pick, lol, and he was nodding off. One of the overnight guests has dirty, matted dred locks that he keeps three combs in for some reason. None of us can figure out why, there is no way he can't possibly comb it. Then there is the tall dude. He tends to slump in his seat so he doesn't tower over the other guys, but you can see how long his arms and legs are. One time he dropped a pen on the ground and all he did was reach down to pick it up without leaning over at all! I've seen guys sleeping all kinds of ways... some pull their shirt necks right up over their heads while others let their heads loll back and forth in what must be a very fitful sleep.
Before our service on Saturday-night all the guys gather in their best suits in the classroom across the hall from the auditorium. There is never a pastor in there, but we all know what to do. At first the guys all talk and laugh, but then as if on cue, they settle down and begin to pray one by one. Truth be told, some can be a bit over the top, but everybody has their own style of praise. Guys take turns praying out loud, giving thanks and relating things learned. Some guys have been here a while and pray with confidence, others start slowly and quietly, at times stumbling. Then you have the prayer warriors, well rehearsed and smoothly building to crescendos. The ones not praying will sound off in support with loud claps of ahmens and thank you Jesus! That actually threw me off the first time I prayed corporeally in there. I'm still kind of the stumbling style right now, but I hope to get better.
Hmmm, tomorrow is 9/11, maybe I should write something... maybe not. I've noticed one of the biggest hurdles to writing is how long it can take. I've timed myself a few times and it takes about 10 to 15 minuets a page to write them down. (As I sit here at my laptop in 2014, it takes at least an hour to two hours per bit). I get lots of ideas during the day that drift off in the hours before I can grab paper and pen. Many of the other stories are ones I have related before verbally, but telling a tale and committing it to paper, simply does not flow as easy.
Little Ed is a peacock, clothes are his life. He struts around saying things like 'I'm Lil pimp", or calling guys "my n*****" or telling everyone he is "representing Englewood". Sometimes he has trouble speaking and just says "IIeah". All his clothes have to be perfectly ironed, and his many shoes polished and clean. Like a guy with a fancy car, he will hang his suit up on a bunk, stand back, put his hand on his chin and admire them. he can be annoying as hell, repeating himself a lot, talking about things that no one cares about loudly... but he is trying.
I was out on the deck at 6am to pray and grab some 'fresh' air. Looking to the east at the 60 story condos and admiring what man has built, I saw a cloud about 3 fingers above the horizon. It started somewhere over lake Michigan and stretched deep into southern Illinois. I figured that at that distance it had to be at least 200 miles long. If man had built it with an elevator from one end to the other, it would take an hour at 200 mph to get across! How puny is man eh? Our best efforts are just one glop of sand on another at the beach.