I'm back from my trip to the mitten. What a time. Not fully recovered from jetlag or firefly separation anxiety. Working backwards, my most favorite moment was seeing the Dymaxion House at the Henry Ford Museum.

Dymaxion House Henry Ford Museum from kayekilla on Vimeo.



Surround sound isn't that great in a regular family living/tv room. It's just startling actually and it does not make "Godfather III" any better of a movie.

I took a long walk with my madre today. She wanted to show me the new walking track around the old community park. I love that park because it's where the town hosts the Fourth of July fireworks and it reminds me of being dazzled as a kid and drugged as a teenager. I saw my first swear words carved into a wooden slide at that park. The tennis courts remind me of my dad leaving me and my brother in our tan VW Rabbit. My brother burning his hand on the cigarette lighter while he played. The courts are cracked and full of weeds now but my mom showed me the new ones near the high school. Not to worry. This town has moved on from black top courts. We walked past a t-ball game. The kids playing were so little - their little melons swimming under black brain buckets. One kid crouched in the infield drawing who knows what in the dirt. His head not big enough to pay attention or fit in a helmet. I thought of the little helmets that frozen yogurt comes in at Dodger games and I miss home. My other home. The slide full of vandalism and cuss words is gone now. It doesn't matter that I carved my name and some good swears in the slide either. They took it out. Took it out and let the courts crack up and they paved a whole walking path so you can see it all at a distance.


Sumo wrestler applying deodorant while waiting for the first pitch at Dodger Stadium.


This is what I see on TV: Paul Pierce is on a stationary bike in what looks like the middle of the court-side fan seats and there seems to be a lot of ridiculous Cubs fans at Dodger Stadium but you can't really tell because it's all blue anyway. Fans, rivals, team colors, teammates all blending together like peanuts and caramel over popcorn in crackerjack.

I feel bad that I just sent my mother an email about the end of my short lived middle school teaching career. She has dedicated her life to teaching and I just had to mention that the only benefit gleaned from my recent experience was a confirmation of my belief that most schools are dream-crushing factories for future wage-slaves.