T for Tom

Drunk in a Cabin Room

Posted in poem by johnsontoms on January 10, 2018

31 DEC 17

 

I see these things that are becoming possible and I remind myself it isn’t that bad

And yet

I know that driving across the country is a whole waste of resources

And yet

I know there are few other ways to get there

And yet

I know I don’t have to

And yet

I don’t want to stand still

And yet

What am I proving by trying to keep moving? 

And yet

How am I to live?

Reconciling this world with its past and its future.

 

drunkinacabinroom

 

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From the Table of Peculiar Rocks

Posted in poem by johnsontoms on January 10, 2018

31 DEC 17

 

There are no problems to be here

Such as we know

Only shade and finding room in the shadows

Crawling darkness to darkness until nighttime we grow

Hand in hand backward in time

Where all men are created equal

And equally able to die

 

Alone here in the desert

Only the ocotillo to watch

And the Sotol Valley to rot

Just another ripple in time

 

In sands, in the shadows that roll on lines of the ridge

Out with the day and in with the night

Or rotting away in the dead dead quiet.

 

fromthetableofpeculiarrocks

From the Chimneys

Posted in poem by johnsontoms on January 10, 2018

30 DEC 17

 

To places no one goes

To see friends no one knows

It’s Puff, the Magic Mountain.

 

Up where no clouds fly

Reaching highest heights

Our Puff, the Magic Mountain.

 

There in the center valley

A line of common allies

With Puff, the Magic Mountain

 

Some things just aren’t meant to make sense

There on the top

Of Puff, the Magic Mountain.

fromthechimneys

On the Chimneys Trail, looking back toward Mule Ears.

In Darkness Without Speaking in the Czech Republic

Posted in Europe, Prose, Remember to Remember by johnsontoms on January 8, 2018

Somewhere down from the mountain and past the first village on the road back to Prague, as the woods hastened the darkness that grew over the road and filled the car, only the light of a cigarette and headlights on the road, we drifted slowly back into bliss. Where the intersections were still just stop signs and only a home here or a shed there to pockmark the way home. The breeze was getting warmer as we descended further from the top, the windows open as we hit the highway. An hour or more on the road and we hadn’t a thing to say, out of peace, out of understanding. Soon, a highway opened up and the car began to gain speed there in the night, the passing of yellow stripes accelerating by in the corners of our vision. Our hair whipped more in the wind and we breathed in, deeply. We were going home later than we planned, but it felt like we had only just begun moving. It felt like we would never stop.

It felt like I would never stop sliding down those mountain slopes, and it felt like I was still standing there on the top. It felt like I was heading home, and it felt like I could never go back. What started simply as the first time I’d go snowboarding ended as a whirlwind trip of just a couple days, the final keystone of a month I had spent abroad, in Latvia, Estonia, Russia, Austria, and now again the Czech Republic and onto the mountains bordering Poland. I had been invited on a Tuesday and by Friday was in Prague on my way. I was there to see my friends that I hadn’t seen since before year of the war, but when it was over, it wasn’t so much a reunion as a baptism. I left with the feeling that I had been led to a gateway, a new way of seeing.

I would be gone three days and two nights, but my time on the mountain was shortened to a single overnight at Spindleruv Mlyn. Petra had an exam early Saturday morning. I spent the morning walking around Praha 14 alone, nowhere to go and nowhere to be, in solitude. I discovered a beautiful playground gateway with Rudyard Kipling’s “If” etched into a gate, but mostly I stared at the soviet apartment complexes that lined these roads on the outskirts. We picked up Dan after her exam and made our way north by afternoon. They spoke natively to each other while I drove, the GPS guiding my turns.

That Kipling gate, though I don’t remember exactly where we were.

I had never been snowboarding, and I had never so often just gone with it. I only learned what came next as each turn approached. I was invited snowboarding for the first time in my life, and so I drove to Prague. A day later I was told we needed to pick up Dan and I did. After we were all together I was told to drive north and I did. Each thing only came as it was needed. I had grown comfortable enough to just let it happen.

The European night always came early and we arrived at the mountain in darkness. We bought lift passes for the night slope, which they could best translate to me as “not for first time.” I said let’s go, and they were happy to see my excitement. Petra smiled, Dan gave a laugh. I picked it up after only a few attempts and we spent the whole evening on the slope, together and alone. I went at my pace, seeing only their peace sign gestures as they barreled down the hill past me, smiling as they went. Eventually we met at the bottom, exhausted. They told me we would be staying with their friends who worked on the resort and we drove a block or so to the home.

It was the kind of resort lodge you’d expect, but turned into a hostel for workers. We threw our bags on the floor of a room that had four bunkbeds, a wall full of extreme sports posters, and a small tube television playing skiing videos in silence. The windows were fogged over from the heat indoors. We sat there for a few hours passing a bottle of moonshine, slivovitz. They passed joints and laughed. Petra told me “we may talk only in Czech, too drunk to translate” but I waved it off. They each took turns to smile in my direction as I downed another slug of slivovitz, and their gestures were enough. My movement was unbroken.

We kept passing the moonshine in that cabin room until it was gone, and made our way to a bar somewhere down the road. I remember being in a dark, red-lit room with loud music, and then waking up in the snow of a driveway across the street while it was still nighttime and then walking, soaked, in a straight line hoping I’d find the cabin. I was lucky enough, opened the door and fell asleep on the floor.

In the morning I was told we’d be taking a bus to a different slope and followed Petra’s gestures as she spoke in Czech to Dan, rushing to board the bus. It stopped at a resort up high on a different peak, and we started walking with our boards for what seemed like a mile in soft-pack snow, surrounded by nothing but trees. The sun had never shone so bright. Eventually we reached their friends at a small cabin and off in the distance I could see a new slope. They went to their friends and I started making my way down the mountain on my own. I spent the afternoon alone again, in turns snowboarding and catching my breath, and, unable to mount the single lift to ride back up, walking three miles back to the top. I was so exhausted there in the snow that I took all my clothing off just to cool down. Amongst the slopes, still no one cared. No one was even really nearby. Eventually Petra found me in the middle and we all paused to catch our breath. We stared east at the mountains and said nothing. After a few minutes Petra told me that the last bus back would be leaving soon. We slid down the slope as quickly as possible, boarded the bus, grabbed our bags, and loaded the car to drive back to Prague. Snow was falling as we started to leave.

The back of Dan’s helmet reflecting the second slope.

I was so excited to go snowboarding for the first time that I didn’t really think of my friends the whole time, friends I hadn’t seen in nearly a year. I was so excited to drive north with my friends from across the earth, that I hadn’t really thought that I didn’t have snow tires on the car. I was so overwhelmed by the isolation of the peaks that I didn’t really care to speak to anyone. I was so in tune with the rush of adrenaline and the beauty of the mountains that I didn’t feel like coming down.

We drove off in darkness without speaking. We let the wind speak to us. We spent three days together without saying more than a smile, but said everything we needed to say. I had been by myself but I was never alone. It felt like I had found out how to keep moving. The darkness at night on the way back had never felt so wonderful. A new day was on the other side.