mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What life is like in Picayune, Mississippi You know how they say you can't ever go back home? Good lord, is that ever true. I feel like what I assume the Viet Nam guys felt when they came back home from a hard year of killin'. Walking around in small town America, knowing a different reality than any of the people that stayed behind, trying to think back to how it was when you didn't know any other way of life and faking it, and doing a really shitty job. I feel like going nuts! Maybe its just staying for a week and a half with the folks. Dad isn't that bad, but Mom is Mom. Don't me wrong, I love my mom. But after 3 years of living alone, it's hard as hell to come back and live with Mom for a week and a half. I'm probably gonna go to hell for saying that. Lookee here. I'm already back to thinking I'm going to hell. Jeez, that was quick. Picayune people have a way of making you think that. See, growing up, I was VERY goody-goody Christian boy. I wanted to be a Baptist youth minister. And everyone and anyone who wasn't Baptist was going to hell. That was that. "You're a Methodist preacher? Sorry, dude. Yer gonna fry." "Episcopalian? Damn, hoss. You're probably already feeling the heat." And they kick people out of the church down here. For stupid shit, like teachers having sex with their students. "You did what with little Johnnie, Mrs. Tate?" "..." "Yer goin' to hay-ell. G'BYE!" And they would be what the church folk call "excommunicated." Which was what I was when I switched majors in college. (y'see... I was a communications major....) They call this place the Bible Belt. But it's just a culture centered around satan and hell. Really. It's just plain ole' fucked up. I bumped into an old teacher who I swore hated me. I said, "Hey! Didn't I have you for something, you grey-haired, wrinkley-assed bitch?" She said, "Yes. English." Great, I said, as I am now majoring in English (after switching a major a few Now, you would think this would piss me off to no ends. I mean, someone doesn't like me. In fact, she probably thinks back at the year I gave her complete hell and wish she could spit on my grave. (sorry, bitch. You real old. I real young.) But it kind of put an end to the many years of doubt I had about whether she really hated me that much. She really, really does. Now I know. And I am happy, because she was such a crappy teacher that I couldn't even remember what she taught. Now Bill Sanders. He was the fat-assed, narcoleptic biology teacher from the gods. His sleeping ass rawked. I ran into an old girlfriend. She's still hottt. Brown hair, bright blue eyes. And damn. I forgot a lot of things about the South in the past three years:
One last thing: I went on a canoe trip today. I flipped over on a rather large rapid. Daisy did well. She didn't drown when the canoe flipped. Which is always good. I'm tired. 11:24 p.m. - 2001-08-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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