December 6, 1996 Friday
Remember my story, “The Tale of the Two Deaths?” I took it to Mr. Beres today to read it over. After I correct it (I’m bad about typos), he is going to look into a way of getting it into a writing contest, or a young authors magazine. So I am excited about this possibility. It would be great to be published anywhere, or at least cited a bit for something at which I try so hard.
Tomorrow, like I’ve also already said, is a Scholastic Bowl meet, and Mrs. Crumrine will be Mr. Mavetz’s replacement coach for the day. The big guy is off hunting somewhere.
Yesterday after school I drove over with Mom to Galesburg to pick up my senior pictures. They look pretty good.
I sit and write this entry at an unlikely place, at a table covered with a cigarette-burned maroon tablecloth: the Hub. As stated earlier, Hoke and I work tonight. Tonight’s band is running through the umpteenth rendition of “Watermelon Crawl” before probably again belting “Third Rock from the Sun.” It’s become a joke between Hoke, Ainsley, and Holly Andrews, the seemingly ten songs that get played ad nauseam. But the dancers hit the floors with the same gusto and boot-scootin’ as ever. Hopefully we will be back in Elmwood, but it might take an extra booming run-through of AC/DC Live! and Metallica’s Load as Hoke and I will drive south-west home soon to Elmwood, through the dark, Illinois plains. It’s funny, I’m not a metal-head at all (the truth is–which is in its own way embarrassing–but there’s probably a Phil Collins or Paul Simon CD in my bedroom player as we speak). But those hard bands have an amazingly rejuvenating effect late in the night, as “Back in Black” or “Hero of the Day” blasts from the Thunderbird’s speakers, and Hoke and I will try to drain ourselves once again of country music.
Well, better go bring up some ice or something,