On Not Flying to Hawaii
I could be the waitress
in the airport restaurant
full of tired cigarette smoke and unseeing tourists.
I could turn into the never-noticed landscape
hanging identically in all the booths
or the customer behind the Chronicle
who has been giving advice
about stock portfolios for forty years. I could be his mortal weariness,
his discarded sports section, his smoldering ashtray.
I could be the 70-year-old woman who has never seen Hawaii,
touching her red lipstick and sprayed hair.
I could enter the linen dress
that poofs around her body like a bridesmaid,
or become her gay son
sitting opposite her, stirring another sugar
into his coffee for lack of something true to say.
I could be the reincarnated soul of the composer
of the Muzak that plays relentlessly overhead,
or the factory worker who wove this fake Oriental carpet,
or the hushed shoes of the busboy.
But I don't want to be the life of anything in this pitstop.
I want to go to Hawaii, the wet, hot
impossible place in my heart that knows just what it desires.
I want money, I want candy.
I want sweet ukelele music and birds who drop from the sky.
I want to be the volcano who lavishes
her boiling rock soup love on everyone,
and I want to be the lover
of volcanos, who loves best what burns her as it flows.
Alison Luterman
in the airport restaurant
full of tired cigarette smoke and unseeing tourists.
I could turn into the never-noticed landscape
hanging identically in all the booths
or the customer behind the Chronicle
who has been giving advice
about stock portfolios for forty years. I could be his mortal weariness,
his discarded sports section, his smoldering ashtray.
I could be the 70-year-old woman who has never seen Hawaii,
touching her red lipstick and sprayed hair.
I could enter the linen dress
that poofs around her body like a bridesmaid,
or become her gay son
sitting opposite her, stirring another sugar
into his coffee for lack of something true to say.
I could be the reincarnated soul of the composer
of the Muzak that plays relentlessly overhead,
or the factory worker who wove this fake Oriental carpet,
or the hushed shoes of the busboy.
But I don't want to be the life of anything in this pitstop.
I want to go to Hawaii, the wet, hot
impossible place in my heart that knows just what it desires.
I want money, I want candy.
I want sweet ukelele music and birds who drop from the sky.
I want to be the volcano who lavishes
her boiling rock soup love on everyone,
and I want to be the lover
of volcanos, who loves best what burns her as it flows.
Alison Luterman
13.11.10
11.11.10
Polo at the Point
Every year, Point Clear holds the annual polo event. On one side, tickets are sold to polo enthusiasts and socialites looking for an event to show case their new hats. While I've never been to the "polo enthusiast" side, the other side is reserved for the "polo tailgaiters", and two years ago I attended with friends from the rugby team. This year, the rugby team was invited to play during the halftime. This was a big deal for the team because they are constantly looking for more exposure to the public. Too many people in this area don't even know that we have a rugby team.While we were going to be on the "tailgating" side, I was still excited about finding a dress to wear. I found a beautiful grey dress with a fitted waist and a ruffled neck line. It is one of those dresses that you know you look good in! Too bad that soon after buying it I found out that my friends were all planning on wearing jeans. JEANS!! Ugh, so I resorted to an old sundress. Oh well.
The day proved to be beautiful; it was sunny outside, but not so hot that it was miserable. We set up under our tent and put out an amazing spread of food. The rugby team played their game at halftime and whooped up on Springhill. It was an exceptionally rough game as well. All and all it proved to be a good day.
Dauphin Street
Recently, I was lucky to be able to join a friend at his friend's downtown loft apartment. I had heard him talk about it before, but I really didn't know what I was missing out on. It is the coolest place to hang out and an absolutely beautiful space. The balcony looks out over Dauphin Street downtown. We were able to sit outside and drink a beer while we watched everyone walking by on their way to and from bars. We made up our own game of seeing who would respond to "hey guh" or "hey boi". I think one or two times I laughed until I cried. I love simple nights like these with good friends and easy entertainment.
Volleyball
After eight years of coaching, I finally saw my time and effort pay off. This season in volleyball was by far the best we've ever had. After years of horrible attitudes, crazy abusive parents, girls quitting, being called a racist because I didn't play the right person, etc, I finally had a season to be proud of. I had six seniors on my team this year. The majority of these girls I had coached for all four years, and I love them. They are such sweet and dedicated young ladies. I already miss hanging out with them and all the fun we had at practice. I've always had three goals for my team: have a winning season, win a tournament, make it to Regionals. This year, for the first time, we accomplished all three goals, having never accomplsihed even one before!! I am so proud of my team, and am starting to feel like coaching might be over for me. While it's fun to coach, the politics and fundraising that goes into making a team work has become tedioius and overwhelming. I wish it was just about winning a game.
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