I know a man who's family dynamic broke apart not once,twice but three times in his life. Mother leaves because she's a selfish distraught lesbian who couldn't take being a mom or a wife anymore, abandons her pre teen son and has a restraining order placed on her own daughter. Years later she turns into a broken down grandmother who never sees or contacts her own grandchildren,who makes promises , obliterates those promises and becomes a fucking pariah who wouldn't even know her own grandson if he was standing in front of her while she smoked her 20th cigarette of the day , skin leathery and loose from all of that time in the Florida sun wandering codependent and aimless.
Beloved sister dies, a best friend, a replacement matriarch for the absent mother. Instead of every family and friend member that remains forming a bond full of love and honor and remembrance, they split, un amicably and end up incommunicado, avoiding any sort of conflict or discussion . The children left behind don't even know each other as cousins, friends or anything resembling a normal family relationship. The miles,combined with fear and bitterness ad up to a fading photograph of a long gone era, that ended a mere 5 years ago.
Man marries the wrong person, they make each other miserable, they have monumental differences that lead to betrayal and abuse. Their only child is in the middle of an ebb and flow of a horrible situation which at times borders on alienation. The verbal abuse of the man continues, and he is helpless to do anything about it because lawyers can only help if you pay them, which the man cannot do. Man has been awarded something but will never collect on said judgement and even if he does, his life will be made even more miserable by the anger of the aftermath. Man chooses less misery, and chooses to let go of the energy it takes to fight, in order to conserve it for the energy it takes to be a single dad on the
low end of a pay scale, in a job with no benefits or paid vacation. Man has to fight to get by every single month. Man has no family, few friends, no partner in a city he feels trapped in for the next twelve years.
Man loses interest in the music and the written word which were once his foundations and ensconces himself in the glorification of self pity, depression and anger. Man is fully aware of the scale of the problem and has very little to complain about when there are people out there whose bodies are riddled with disease, are homeless, whose children have been lost to war, abuse, terrorism, addiction, etc.
But man sees no real..finite end in the endless cycle of fear,loss, anger in his life despite temporary pauses filled with hope and fleeting contentment.and devotes himself instead to the raising of his son, alone...with no family to help, no network to rely on, no money to burn. It has become his identity, his dominant reason for being, and sometimes his burden. The exhaustion causes the feeling of it being a burden from time to time, the exhaustion holds the lead and the chain.
Man knows the ex wife will read this and laugh and either use it against him or ignore it all together. Man is well versed in her etiquette of calling him a useless, selfish loser who doesn't groom, or a piece of shit who is a lousy father and half of a man. Man has been put through the motions of being spat on in public and slapped in front of his child. Man can take it.
Man wants to stay here on earth.
Man wants to be able to feel good for at least 24 hrs straight before his son is old enough for college and he can wander this earth looking for truth, looking for self. Parents lose most of that when bringing up children. Those who are partnered make time for the other parent to continue his or her search.
Man doesn't have this benefit. When he is not with his son, he works, wanders or wallows.
Man writes on this blog just to write. The anticipation of pity, glory, conversation or reciprocation is moot. The Internet is the ether. The feelings expressed are merely easier to find here than in a moleskine or composition book.
Man realizes how silly this all is.
Man realizes how stupid this all is.
Man realizes how serious this all is.
Man will forget this
Saturday, August 03, 2013
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Good Dad Bad Dad Stage Dad Sad Dad
I had a kid. I had a plan. I'm sort of a has been/ never was rocker with a plethora of pride in my step when it comes to being a rock purist. I have my foundations, my pillars of rock architecture and cultural touchstones with which, no matter how far I got as a musician, I knew I could pass on to my offspring as a good old kick start to his or her own legacy as a musician.
For surely my kid is gonna be a musician. For surely my kid is gonna know so much about rock music that he/she would just fall into the prodigious nature of musical study and appreciation, piano, guitar, drums, production, voice....those were the avenues. The streets with names for the he/ she that he/she would be allowed to drive down, blindfolded with passion. I ended up with a boy. A boy who was listening to the Beatles in utero. A boy who had a Led Zeppelin onesie. A kid who had his first drum set at three, his first guitar at four, his first keyboard at six. He wrote his first song as a five year old..lyrics and melody. His music teacher said he was advanced and should be in lessons right away. It was all headed in the right direction, weaving into my chosen path.
My plan was to not be overbearing rock dad inundating him with heavy guitar rock to confuse and overload his little ears. That would have been selfish and stupid. After his mom and I split up, I chose to expose him to everything and anything but sugary, overproduced throwaway pop songs, and misogynist based hip hop riddled with ridiculous braggadocio, knowing that this decision was based on my opinion of what was good and what was horrific and bad.I taught him all about the songwriting process, let him ask questions about the artists and the instruments, and how a certain sound was made.I let many genres wash over him and watched him soak them in. He was always fascinated, inquisitive, engaged.I believe I've been successful from that standpoint so far. So far.....
So far that plan is riddled with snafus. I've been sandbagged. I've been sabotaged.I need a kinder gentler approach...because last night my seven year old son went to the Taylor Swift concert...and liked it. He likes all of it. He knows the words to mommy's songs and none of mine. He sings them and knows that it upsets me. Yeah it upsets me. Who is the child here, right?
I have to be realistic. He's just a kid, right. He's more drawn to the big machine pop and the sunshiny chick rock that his mother favors because its easier to sing in the car. It's less moody. Simple arrangements, shiny happy chord progressions and melodies which are catchy, especially to a kid who just wants to be happy and laugh and grow at his own pace. He may never like what I like and may never be influenced by what I've passively, gingerly tried to program him with. I get that.
So why does it suck when he says to me that he "doesn't like rock" and doesn't want to sing in a "rock band".
Why does it hurt so bad. I could be over reacting. Projecting on my son my own "failures" as a musician...being in the wrong place at the right time over and over again, saying no to more than a handful of promising projects, the frustration with lack of DIY mentality when a lack of management led to a loss of direction and output...etc. As a parent you always want your child to do better than you did. That seems to be a rite of passage. I guess I'm using my own wanna be rock star model from 20 years ago model as the opposite of what I want his to be.
Right now, I have to ask myself, has my course load overwhelmed my young musical paduwan or was it never his in the first place. The suspense is killing me.
For surely my kid is gonna be a musician. For surely my kid is gonna know so much about rock music that he/she would just fall into the prodigious nature of musical study and appreciation, piano, guitar, drums, production, voice....those were the avenues. The streets with names for the he/ she that he/she would be allowed to drive down, blindfolded with passion. I ended up with a boy. A boy who was listening to the Beatles in utero. A boy who had a Led Zeppelin onesie. A kid who had his first drum set at three, his first guitar at four, his first keyboard at six. He wrote his first song as a five year old..lyrics and melody. His music teacher said he was advanced and should be in lessons right away. It was all headed in the right direction, weaving into my chosen path.
My plan was to not be overbearing rock dad inundating him with heavy guitar rock to confuse and overload his little ears. That would have been selfish and stupid. After his mom and I split up, I chose to expose him to everything and anything but sugary, overproduced throwaway pop songs, and misogynist based hip hop riddled with ridiculous braggadocio, knowing that this decision was based on my opinion of what was good and what was horrific and bad.I taught him all about the songwriting process, let him ask questions about the artists and the instruments, and how a certain sound was made.I let many genres wash over him and watched him soak them in. He was always fascinated, inquisitive, engaged.I believe I've been successful from that standpoint so far. So far.....
So far that plan is riddled with snafus. I've been sandbagged. I've been sabotaged.I need a kinder gentler approach...because last night my seven year old son went to the Taylor Swift concert...and liked it. He likes all of it. He knows the words to mommy's songs and none of mine. He sings them and knows that it upsets me. Yeah it upsets me. Who is the child here, right?
I have to be realistic. He's just a kid, right. He's more drawn to the big machine pop and the sunshiny chick rock that his mother favors because its easier to sing in the car. It's less moody. Simple arrangements, shiny happy chord progressions and melodies which are catchy, especially to a kid who just wants to be happy and laugh and grow at his own pace. He may never like what I like and may never be influenced by what I've passively, gingerly tried to program him with. I get that.
So why does it suck when he says to me that he "doesn't like rock" and doesn't want to sing in a "rock band".
Why does it hurt so bad. I could be over reacting. Projecting on my son my own "failures" as a musician...being in the wrong place at the right time over and over again, saying no to more than a handful of promising projects, the frustration with lack of DIY mentality when a lack of management led to a loss of direction and output...etc. As a parent you always want your child to do better than you did. That seems to be a rite of passage. I guess I'm using my own wanna be rock star model from 20 years ago model as the opposite of what I want his to be.
Right now, I have to ask myself, has my course load overwhelmed my young musical paduwan or was it never his in the first place. The suspense is killing me.
Monday, June 10, 2013
I'm Over Mick Jagger
Right now, I have Mick Jagger at the very top of my list of Biggest Assholes in Rock.
I bet Mick hasn't had fun in the Rolling Stones since around Some Girls.
The lippy dictator told Bill Wyman (who is 76 years old) on this current 50th anniversary tour that he could perform two songs. No more than two songs per show. He was so nice that he invited Bill on the whole tour.....for two songs a night. Bill said fuck you very much.
He did the same thing with legendary stones saviour Mick Taylor, but Mick took the bait..and probably needs the cash. Mr. Jagger, Mick Taylor was gold to you and your legacy from 69-74....the best years your band ever had. Take that to the grave with all of your filthy lucre. Please make sure that the great grandchildren of your seven children(a stones record) are taken care of.
I love the recorded Rolling Stones right up to Steel Wheels.....just for the record. Why am I bitching now?
it's been a perfect storm of bad reviews, bad hype and just plain snobby greed...that I'm seeing.
I've seen the Stones 5 times...mostly way back when they were in their 50s. I never thought about it until now but Mick Jagger was going through the motions then and the bullshit has been piled on thicker every tour since then.
His lyrical output has always been underrated (from 19th Nervous Breakdown to Tumblin' Dice to Shattered)...its all good, bumping the borders of genius in some places..yet the stage banter is a disconnect, has been for decades, emotionless, scripted blasphemy. ...it used to make me sad to see him phoning it in on stage...now Ive seen footage of the latest tour...and he looks so robotic, so bored. Who gives a shit about moving like jagger, Mick. Try singing like Jagger.
Maybe its me....but these guests he's bringing on stage, including Carrie Underwood and Katy Perry, dont' make the Stones look hip Mick, it makes you look like creepy Gramps in black Danskins about to yell some version of "Hello Cleveland" any given moment between a missed lick by Keef or Ronnie.
Try not charging an average of 275 a ticket at age 70, Mr. Business first...rock second....wait, cricket is second, then comes merchandise, then fucking(however well septuagenarians fuck). Goddamn, why didn't you fall out of a coconut tree..it might have given you some perspective. Also, try having some respect for Darryl Jones who has been your bass player for 20 years and has never been in a press photo and is probably still hovering around hired gun status....try making me believe that "Its Only Rock and Roll".
..and maybe I'll like it.
I bet Mick hasn't had fun in the Rolling Stones since around Some Girls.
The lippy dictator told Bill Wyman (who is 76 years old) on this current 50th anniversary tour that he could perform two songs. No more than two songs per show. He was so nice that he invited Bill on the whole tour.....for two songs a night. Bill said fuck you very much.
He did the same thing with legendary stones saviour Mick Taylor, but Mick took the bait..and probably needs the cash. Mr. Jagger, Mick Taylor was gold to you and your legacy from 69-74....the best years your band ever had. Take that to the grave with all of your filthy lucre. Please make sure that the great grandchildren of your seven children(a stones record) are taken care of.
I love the recorded Rolling Stones right up to Steel Wheels.....just for the record. Why am I bitching now?
it's been a perfect storm of bad reviews, bad hype and just plain snobby greed...that I'm seeing.
I've seen the Stones 5 times...mostly way back when they were in their 50s. I never thought about it until now but Mick Jagger was going through the motions then and the bullshit has been piled on thicker every tour since then.
His lyrical output has always been underrated (from 19th Nervous Breakdown to Tumblin' Dice to Shattered)...its all good, bumping the borders of genius in some places..yet the stage banter is a disconnect, has been for decades, emotionless, scripted blasphemy. ...it used to make me sad to see him phoning it in on stage...now Ive seen footage of the latest tour...and he looks so robotic, so bored. Who gives a shit about moving like jagger, Mick. Try singing like Jagger.
Maybe its me....but these guests he's bringing on stage, including Carrie Underwood and Katy Perry, dont' make the Stones look hip Mick, it makes you look like creepy Gramps in black Danskins about to yell some version of "Hello Cleveland" any given moment between a missed lick by Keef or Ronnie.
Try not charging an average of 275 a ticket at age 70, Mr. Business first...rock second....wait, cricket is second, then comes merchandise, then fucking(however well septuagenarians fuck). Goddamn, why didn't you fall out of a coconut tree..it might have given you some perspective. Also, try having some respect for Darryl Jones who has been your bass player for 20 years and has never been in a press photo and is probably still hovering around hired gun status....try making me believe that "Its Only Rock and Roll".
..and maybe I'll like it.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Queens of the Stone Age: Like Clockwork -A bullet point review
Queens of the Stone Age have come (somewhat) roaring back after six years since their last album of all new material, with Like Clockwork, out June 4 on Matador Records. The hype surrounding this release has already reached monumental proportion, and the fascination with whatever hydra head honcho Josh Homme touches in whatever conglomeration of players he chooses to be a part of, remains as a consistent chunk of his mystique.
I'm a super fan boy of Josh since Kyuss was kicking up desert dust, but I've also been respectful of his searing desire to rid himself of the stoner rock stamp branded on his forehead ever since the first riffs of Wretch... so although it has been very hard to be objective as I spun it around seven or eight times in the last two weeks, shouting profanity filled question marks out to a non living car stereo, then allowing some problem spot areas to properly? marinate, as it pertains to a band's, or musician's(whom of course I don't personally know) artistic progression. I was able to calm down, dig in, and dig..it. This is what I've come up with in short bursts of opinion.
-The first track "Keep Your Eyes Peeled"- Hmmmmm ,although it thuds and rumbles with enough balls to suffice...seems such an odd choice for an album opener after six years of waiting. Was the QOTSA fanbase hoping for something less midtempo, or gosh, more melodically singable as this album kicked off? Perhaps. Is catchy the word I'm looking for? Dunno...it didn't grab me and still doesn't. The first bridge comes in from the cold and leaves without any impact at all....
-Catchy comes calling with the second track "I Sat By The Ocean", with verses carried by a hypnotic doubled up slide guitar and tight crushing staccato drums.This song burns and returns..strong vocals for the most part, albeit for the strange overuse of falsetto which has become Josh's style for the most part. It is a recurring sting that pricked me, probably because I'm a vocalist and can tell when falsetto is used for artistic purposes and when its being used because the singer can't hit the notes he chose for his own vocal melody. It could be a combination of both. But man, he goes to that breathy well wayyyy to often on this record, sometimes switching it up from full force to breathy word or phrase in the SAME LINE . I really can't imagine how he'll pull it off live. " Silence is closer, we're passing ships in the night" is both a triumph in chorus and lyric......
More piano on this album than any other Queens record..not a bad thing if you lean towards the respectful of progression side of things....it can't hurt if Trent Reznor, Sir Elton and Queen's multitasking duo of Dean Fertita and Troy van Leeuen are manning the keys. It still comes a surprise nonetheless and starts off "The Vampyre of Time and Memory" A meandering heartwrung ballad, shit..".I want god to come and take me home cause I'm all alone in this crowd." "I feel no love" "Does anyone ever get this right" are some of the lyrics, but the reveal is startling, refreshing for someone with the evident, cocksure swagger of Baby Duck himself. It's the vulnerability that has replaced the smirk for the lyrical bulk of this effort. Most of the time it's presented as such a fresh wound, you feel like calling the guy up and asking him if everything's ok? Need a hug, bro?
"If I Had a Tail" has the most singable chorus on the album....but the rest of the song is glamorously overproduced and sullen, and a bit repetitive.
"My God is the Sun" is shall I say it..."classic" QOTSA, the ratatat RPM of Mr. Grohl lights a fire under this albums ass, a midnight blurry drive of a song, the barnburning single that should have opened this fucking record. Rocks Socks. Burns without sun block.
"Kalopsia" can be summed up by its excellent lyric "copycats in cheap suits are playing it safe, while cannibals of bad news consume the parade." A punchy tussle between the sounds of opiate aftermaths and the ferociousness of the clearer picture. Stunned and gunned.
"Fairweather Friends"...is melodically perfect, everything fits, like your best girlfriend on a blue ball free night, a perfect mesh of guitar, piano and Grohl's pleasant bash. The highlight of the album for yours truly. Even if you can't quite figure out where Josh is going with the lyric, it feels right. It feels like he wrote it for you or about you, which of course he didn't . But sometimes the best songs allow you to slip right in, leave your understudy position and take over the role. "So what's it gonna take?" If you listen verrrrrrrry close with headphones on, sans distraction..you can hear Lanegan give his three words for the album, and Elton give his two.
My non-musical picked bone for the album, and the blame may fall with the hypemongers at Matador, is the laundry list of all stars who " helped" with the recording. Elton John, Reznor, Lanegan, NICK OLIVERI(holy shit,they're getting the BAND BACK TOGETHER, wait, didn't Josh sue Kyuss Lives?????, dude from Arctic Monkeys, dude from Scissor Sisters(double who? for most of you) Jon Theodore from Mars Volta!!!-Barely drums on the last track, but how can you tell, or should you have been listening for him in the first place?...and that's the problem. I don't remember Josh hyping the guests this much in print while the album was being tracked. In fact, details were bled out unceremoniously with mysterious studio pics. Josh has a lot of hand in a lot of dirty cookie jars...and for the most part, at Rancho De La Luna, where Queens tracks primarily, whoever happens to show up, might get asked to shake a tambourine here, double a melody line there. Grohl showed up because drummer Joey Castillo was ousted, and Josh made a call. Dave seems to always answer Josh's calls. Elton CALLED Josh to guest. Queen meet Queens.. Lanegan was wandering the high desert looking for a pack of smokes and stumbled in...Reznor growled out half a chorus... Lots of weird coincidences with very little planning and a handful of seat of your pants run- throughs with seasoned vets has turned into huge guest star hype where it ends up being indecipherable and unwarranted. Nobody's rolled out on a portable oval stage here, people. Lanegan hasn't been in this band since 2005.
This album is a grower, not a shower. It has masterful highs where you'll feel asphyxiated with bliss as the return of this band falls over you like you've just copped a feel from God, and a clinging midrange of emotions that never really veer out of "what if?" or "what's this"? There are spots where it reads more like a soundtrack to a druggy art film than a rock record. Yet, the lyrics have never been stronger, and the reveal of a vulnerable and down but never out rockaholic like Josh Homme is a welcome surprise. Although it did make me think sometimes..."Shit, are things with Brody that bad?" Wonder is almost always good in rock, and this album is definitely a wonder.
I'm a super fan boy of Josh since Kyuss was kicking up desert dust, but I've also been respectful of his searing desire to rid himself of the stoner rock stamp branded on his forehead ever since the first riffs of Wretch... so although it has been very hard to be objective as I spun it around seven or eight times in the last two weeks, shouting profanity filled question marks out to a non living car stereo, then allowing some problem spot areas to properly? marinate, as it pertains to a band's, or musician's(whom of course I don't personally know) artistic progression. I was able to calm down, dig in, and dig..it. This is what I've come up with in short bursts of opinion.
-The first track "Keep Your Eyes Peeled"- Hmmmmm ,although it thuds and rumbles with enough balls to suffice...seems such an odd choice for an album opener after six years of waiting. Was the QOTSA fanbase hoping for something less midtempo, or gosh, more melodically singable as this album kicked off? Perhaps. Is catchy the word I'm looking for? Dunno...it didn't grab me and still doesn't. The first bridge comes in from the cold and leaves without any impact at all....
-Catchy comes calling with the second track "I Sat By The Ocean", with verses carried by a hypnotic doubled up slide guitar and tight crushing staccato drums.This song burns and returns..strong vocals for the most part, albeit for the strange overuse of falsetto which has become Josh's style for the most part. It is a recurring sting that pricked me, probably because I'm a vocalist and can tell when falsetto is used for artistic purposes and when its being used because the singer can't hit the notes he chose for his own vocal melody. It could be a combination of both. But man, he goes to that breathy well wayyyy to often on this record, sometimes switching it up from full force to breathy word or phrase in the SAME LINE . I really can't imagine how he'll pull it off live. " Silence is closer, we're passing ships in the night" is both a triumph in chorus and lyric......
More piano on this album than any other Queens record..not a bad thing if you lean towards the respectful of progression side of things....it can't hurt if Trent Reznor, Sir Elton and Queen's multitasking duo of Dean Fertita and Troy van Leeuen are manning the keys. It still comes a surprise nonetheless and starts off "The Vampyre of Time and Memory" A meandering heartwrung ballad, shit..".I want god to come and take me home cause I'm all alone in this crowd." "I feel no love" "Does anyone ever get this right" are some of the lyrics, but the reveal is startling, refreshing for someone with the evident, cocksure swagger of Baby Duck himself. It's the vulnerability that has replaced the smirk for the lyrical bulk of this effort. Most of the time it's presented as such a fresh wound, you feel like calling the guy up and asking him if everything's ok? Need a hug, bro?
"If I Had a Tail" has the most singable chorus on the album....but the rest of the song is glamorously overproduced and sullen, and a bit repetitive.
"My God is the Sun" is shall I say it..."classic" QOTSA, the ratatat RPM of Mr. Grohl lights a fire under this albums ass, a midnight blurry drive of a song, the barnburning single that should have opened this fucking record. Rocks Socks. Burns without sun block.
"Kalopsia" can be summed up by its excellent lyric "copycats in cheap suits are playing it safe, while cannibals of bad news consume the parade." A punchy tussle between the sounds of opiate aftermaths and the ferociousness of the clearer picture. Stunned and gunned.
"Fairweather Friends"...is melodically perfect, everything fits, like your best girlfriend on a blue ball free night, a perfect mesh of guitar, piano and Grohl's pleasant bash. The highlight of the album for yours truly. Even if you can't quite figure out where Josh is going with the lyric, it feels right. It feels like he wrote it for you or about you, which of course he didn't . But sometimes the best songs allow you to slip right in, leave your understudy position and take over the role. "So what's it gonna take?" If you listen verrrrrrrry close with headphones on, sans distraction..you can hear Lanegan give his three words for the album, and Elton give his two.
My non-musical picked bone for the album, and the blame may fall with the hypemongers at Matador, is the laundry list of all stars who " helped" with the recording. Elton John, Reznor, Lanegan, NICK OLIVERI(holy shit,they're getting the BAND BACK TOGETHER, wait, didn't Josh sue Kyuss Lives?????, dude from Arctic Monkeys, dude from Scissor Sisters(double who? for most of you) Jon Theodore from Mars Volta!!!-Barely drums on the last track, but how can you tell, or should you have been listening for him in the first place?...and that's the problem. I don't remember Josh hyping the guests this much in print while the album was being tracked. In fact, details were bled out unceremoniously with mysterious studio pics. Josh has a lot of hand in a lot of dirty cookie jars...and for the most part, at Rancho De La Luna, where Queens tracks primarily, whoever happens to show up, might get asked to shake a tambourine here, double a melody line there. Grohl showed up because drummer Joey Castillo was ousted, and Josh made a call. Dave seems to always answer Josh's calls. Elton CALLED Josh to guest. Queen meet Queens.. Lanegan was wandering the high desert looking for a pack of smokes and stumbled in...Reznor growled out half a chorus... Lots of weird coincidences with very little planning and a handful of seat of your pants run- throughs with seasoned vets has turned into huge guest star hype where it ends up being indecipherable and unwarranted. Nobody's rolled out on a portable oval stage here, people. Lanegan hasn't been in this band since 2005.
This album is a grower, not a shower. It has masterful highs where you'll feel asphyxiated with bliss as the return of this band falls over you like you've just copped a feel from God, and a clinging midrange of emotions that never really veer out of "what if?" or "what's this"? There are spots where it reads more like a soundtrack to a druggy art film than a rock record. Yet, the lyrics have never been stronger, and the reveal of a vulnerable and down but never out rockaholic like Josh Homme is a welcome surprise. Although it did make me think sometimes..."Shit, are things with Brody that bad?" Wonder is almost always good in rock, and this album is definitely a wonder.
Friday, March 01, 2013
A Letter to My Son
Hudson,
I’m so sorry
that I’m so sad all of the time. I try my best to keep it from you, masking it
with silliness and conversations about truss rods and You Tube videos about how
to make your little plastic guitar sound better. Like we did last night. I’m
sorry that we had to wait in the cold for a bus home from your school
yesterday. We made the best of it eating a soft pretzel, and you furiously
embedded in ipod games, playing with your cold little hands, on a bench as all
the nice cars whizzed by. But really I was ashamed. I was ashamed that I didn’t
have enough money to pay my parking tickets and the city put a boot on my car,
right out in front of our apartment where you can see it and will ask about it.
I’m so sorry that I lied to you and told you it was being
fixed, I didn’t know what to do and had to think fast to figure out a way to
pick you up from school. I just wanted to be there at the normal time so you
wouldn’t worry. You seem so resilient, mostly happy in our small apartment for
which I am perpetually behind on the rent. In which there are no kitchen
cabinets, and the heat goes off every once in a while without you noticing. It
is very different from a 3500 square foot house, but there is more love here in
our little space. We make due, but barely. It makes Dad really tired all of the
time. Too tired to play with you sometimes. Too tired to figure out a way to
make the best of our free time without any money. My creative brain is
bombarded with stress every day. I know you see it. It makes me raise my voice
when I shouldn’t. It makes me distant and exhausted.
Hudson, I may have to get a roommate. I’m going to give up
my room and rent it out. I’m going to pull out the trundle bed which adjoins
yours, and sleep next to you in your room when you’re here with me, and sleep
there when you’re not. It’s the only way I can figure out how to lower my
expenses so you don’t have to choose between mac and cheese and turkey
sandwiches all of the time, so we don’t have to skip every other birthday you
are invited to. So I can buy something brand new for you and not wake up every
Saturday morning to go to garage sales. So I can take you on a vacation away
from this city. So I can be less sad for a while. There will be another person
here sometimes when you’re here. Sharing this small space, crowding your two
tiny play areas. Another situation for you to question. Another adjustment for
you to make on this 4 year hell of an unsteady roller coaster. I always wonder
when you are going to fall off, but you never do. It is I who rides hands free.
Dad loves you Hudson. Dad loves you more than anything else
in the world. Dad will make this easier for you, even if you don’t really see
it. Dad can’t see any other way right now. Dad has tried so many other ways…….
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