3-30-11

The clock winked at me as if it were saying hello to a friend. This house has forever been filled with mischief and unexplainable. Years have passed by as if they were a blur, and all that holds them together is the strange occurrences that i have witnessed throughout them. I began noticing that all was not right the night i moved in. My life in the city was over as far as i could tell. I needed to get away and spend time to work on myself as a whole. Living alone in the wilderness was an option that i had considered for as long as i can remember. As a child i had loved the time i spent camping and fishing but i never had the chance to experience life out in a small community.
I merged right off of the interstate baring northbound towards Silow a farming community of around seven hundred. As we passed through the half mile span which was the town folks glared at us as if we had been on the most wanted list for years. The moving truck was piloted by two Latinos whom didn't want to help us unpack. They dropped our belongings off a the edge of the driveway and took off not even bothering to collect.
That night after i had managed to move all into the garage we sat in the spacious living space. Our dinner was the luxurious peanut butter sandwich's we had been able to scrap together. I looked out the window picturing a hot summer day with kids running around but this was interrupted by the reality of a figure making its way across the front yard. 
To be continued....

3-3-11 Villanelle

People scatter, as the sirens blare. They run for cover, as the streets are bare
Hidden from the clouds of the British sky, the Luftwaffe's bomb bays open as they pass the shorlines by
Leaving behind a path of destruction, their has left a massive concussion

Waves, and waves of bombers enter the city, their payload will certainly not be pretty.
Destruction is their main objective, you cannot view this from any other perspective
Fear strictens the small island as it shake, the bombs make each person quake.

Citizens cram against one another, the shelters feal like sandwich meat being smothered
Loved ones hold eachother closely, their hands are shaking fratically
They try to think of a happy time, but they are interupted by the sound of a woman's cry

A shriek breaks the silence, as the worst seems to have passed
Suddenly the sirens begin to blast
Another wave is closing in, the peril begins to seep back in

The roar of engines fills the sky, with their goal many will die
Houses around are burning to the ground, the fire is used as a target newly found
Led and dynamite fill the air, as seconds pass as their descendence blares

Hours pass and it is finally over, one night is gone, but they war is certainly not over
For those who survive live in fear, that one day they bomb will find them and end them
Lives devastated by the thundering death, houses destroyed peoples lives are a wreck
It would be years before it finally ends, and when it does the streets will be filled with cheer.

Etheree

wait
listen
to the waves
how relaxing
they sound as they hit
the pale, rocky shoreline
they splash upon arrival
a single drop lands on my foot
slowly it trickles down to my toes
the tide submerges my foot in water.
Mitchell Deinhammer

Daily Journal 3-17-11

I once dreamed about a time in the future. A time where my seemed at its peak. It was the spring of 2014 and we had just landed in Boston. Now I doubt that the draft is going to be at Boston in 2014 but thats where it was in my dream. Like all draftees i was nervous. As we left the boarding area pacing towards the baggage drop off two men in black suits intersepted us. "Your luggage will be sent to your hotel. It should arrive shortly after you do. Follow us, we will be your security for the remainder of your trip."
My mom looked over at me in disbelief. She was never informed that we would have security; we knew it was a big deal going high in the top ten but we never thought it would be of this magnitude. They led us outside to a black suburban with government plates. I dont understand why they would waste man power keeping us safe. As we pulled out of the airport parking heading east towards the highway leading downtown the man in the passenger seat turned around and briefed us. He had recieved orders that becuase of our flights delay we had been late and missed the majority of the pre draft traditions. Instead of taking us to our hotel room our plans were to go directly to the arena to commence the draft.
We pulled up with less than an hour to go before the draft was scheduled to begin. I was escorted downstairs to a dressing room where they had a pair of dress pants and shirt laid out for me. A lady came in and told me that if they didnt fit she could get me another pair, but they did. I stepped out of the dressing room and followed her to the seating arrangements. There she took me to where my family was sitting. I sat down to their left two seats from the isle. About ten minutes later the red lights went on and the draft began. The comissioner came out and gave his speech welcoming all. Then the team manager with the first pick stood up from their table and walked up to the podium with his advisors. They thanked the city and then began to talk about their pick. "with the first oveall pick in the 2014 NHL entry draft, on behalf of the Minnesota Wild we select from Eastview High School Mitchell Deinhammer."
I stood up shaking the hands of my brothers and hugging my mom and sister then proceeded down the steps to the stand. He hand me a Jersey with the #14 on the back i shake the GM's hand and smile for the cameras before walking down from the stage. I take a few interviews and go sit back up with my family filled with excitement. They day goes on as the NHL welcomes the new leaders of a dynasty.

Daily Journal 3-15-11

It was a mild in Nagasaki as I drove into work. My country had duties for me to attend to as the US ambassador for Japan. My driver pulled onto a street ( a cannot spell or pronounce it) which for this time of day seemed kind of crowded. Not on the streets of course but people were lined up along the sidewalks onlooking the road as if their had been some spectacle going on. Soon enough it came to my attention that behind us speed a funny looking car. It resembled a shoe. A brown formal shoe. Now in America this would be considered to be a creative car that only some sort of comedian or inventor would drive; but in Japan everything is magnified. So as i looked on in laughter the driver started to speed up. If i had been more informed about Japanese culture i would have know that something like this is most certainly frowned upon. As the shoe of a car started to disappear as we pulled away i realized that the road itself was getting narrower. The crowd which had once been along the sidewalk was now approaching the center of the roadway with one thing on their mind. They approached the driver with faces filled with rage and frustration. Finally they reached the car, tearing the driver from the tip of the sneaker and casting him into the crowd. If his intention were that he wished to be a shoe they very well granted it. One by one they stomped upon the man as the roared down the street. A mob had now formed around the shoe. People started throwing burning shoes at the car in hope that it would catch fire to the brown vehicle of death. One landed in the cockpit. Ashes singed the seat and lit the leather on fire sending the crowd backwards like a cat from a bathtub. The car lay in rubble as the crowd started to disperse, the man piloting the contraction lay on the ground motionless.

My Journey on a Pirate Ship

Twas mid summer of 1639 and all had been going swell. The crew and I were longing for home. It had been four months since we last saw land. We clung to life by surviving off of the collections that we obtained upon our raids. For years we had made our living chasing down merchant vessels. We jumped aboard their deck and ravaged their crews. After we had slaughtered all left on board we ripped threw the ship in search for belongings for ourselves and food and water. As we departed from our victories the last man off would set fire to the deck assuring that no one would survive, even if they had evaded our initial searches. Hundreds of innocent lives were lost between the years we spent turning the open waters red with the blood of commoners. In 1637 we returned home finally, after being abroad for two years terrorizing the seas. My hope was that we could live among the kind folk of Charleston quietly without any trouble from the authorities. But luck was never on our side, and after three weeks we had to flee from mobs in search for revenge for their fallen. So for two years now we have not come across the sight of land. Until now. It seems that we have come across an empty isle. Abandoned, i will stay behind when the crew decides to depart. I will live the rest of my life in peace in search for retribution for all of my sins. In hope that someday god will forgive me as i stand before him at the gates of heaven.

It was another late night at the sheen house as it always is on weekends. Once again charlie was enjoying life to the fullest along side two of his special friends. What once was an everyday occurrence had seemed to become a very uncommon thing to see happening at the Sheen residence.
Charlie was busy in the bathroom snorting a line of coke; his legs wobbled as he tried to stand up. After sometime he managed to lift himself up by the doorknob. The handle started to turn but it appeared to be moving away from Sheen as if it were running; then everything went dark.
Squinting at the ceiling as if he were a newborn just appearing from the womb. Slowly he stood up realizing with every waking moment that he had been passed out in the bath tub. Charlie starts to freak out, his blood pressure spikes as his mind recalls the wild night that he had woken up from.
Staggering out the bathroom door Sheen is greeted by a shocking sight. His house had been cleaned out. The walls bare, carpet stripped from the floorboards. All that was left behind was a note laying on the floor in the living room. He lifts it up and starts reading it as if it were Chinese, he takes his time but makes out what it says. "We have it all! Your furniture your cocaine and your women! Its over!"
He crawls to his room and jumps off his balcony he cannot bare to live without his one true love.

Joey Catsalgi  was a young itallian american trying to make his way out of a poverty stricken household in the the late 1920s. With world war one far behind the citizens of this great US of A many had tried their luck in the stock market. It was promising business that had made many fortunate previousley. With a national high came a devistating low that would soon send america into a spiral of unfortunate poverty. That along with the decreasing number of jobs thousands were left homeless.
Joey was determined to make something of himself. In the summer of 1929 he started working in a bar in Brooklyn, New York. He didnt plan on sustaining this job for more than a few months under the circumstances. His luck all changed on the evening of July 9 when while he swept the floors preparing to close up shop when his boss stormed in with two men dragging something heavy in a bag behind them. At the time they didnt know what to do with the potential witness whom they didnt expect to come across.
After discussion they turned to Joe and threw a shovel at his feat. Joe spent the remainder of the night burrying his dead.
The day after Joe met with his boss requesting a job opportunity that he would soon come to regret. He would join the mafia and eventually end up in prison after being caught with another body in his trunk.

Daily Journal 3-2-11

How ridiculous I was as a child. If you analyzed my actions and tried to sum them up with one word there would only be one option, goofy. I was indeed a silly child, when our family lived in Iowa I used to run into the living room and hide underneath the coffee table whenever I believed that I was in trouble. Just by seeing me curled up in a ball, my clothes dreched with sweat from the fear that overwhelmed me; you knew I did something wrong. It was as if I was admitting to my faults. Even when in reality you now realize that what you did was not nearly as bad as you believe it to be you look back and laugh because your head has images of you being punished racing through your mind. In Detriot during the playoffs for the Red Wings a fan threw an Octopus onto the ice believing it to be good luck. Most wouldnt have done such a thing in fear that they would be kicked out. This ended up becoming a tradition that is still used today by Detroit Red Wings fans. This act that many would consider to be troublesome actually benifited the overall moral of the team and the fans.