Yeeee-haw cowgirl! Time for a hoe-down!
As with any life, there are people who will invariably be around for the gist of it in some discernable way. For my spastic, moody, and impatient life, you are one of those people. Events have faded in and out like shitty reception, but you’re always a constant.
So, since mailing Sailor Jerry’s and cream soda to your door step is against federal regulations (well, cream soda would be ok, but there’s no use getting your hopes up) as an alternative I offer this song in your honor. Before you ask, why yes the beginning Happy Birthday melody is from a cd of Arabic Birthday Dance Music, good ear! I deed it like Eli.
Ayn Radd – Take a Knee
I want to write.
I want to create.
It’s an on going stigma that continues to claw itself at the moments when “What the fuck are you doing?” is the most appropriate question. But with that and the impending question in mind, despite good efforts, where’s the resolve? Is it really good efforts or is it just good enough? It’s one thing to wax philosophically as contrived as possible, but seriously, hombre, waxing is remedial work. Stop living with boundaries of minimum wage, minimum age, and good for this point in time. It’s nothing to want, everybody has the obsession of constant command and conquer.
Who gets noted for wanting to want?
It’s like changing radio stations. Made in 10 minutes flat, sorry.
Ayn Radd – Friends, Lay Down Your Drinks and Use Your Voices
The sun shines brighter and what was once an unbearable nuisance has become an odd source of comfort. Now ring in first time deja vus and laughter at the mantra of “adapt or perish”
Feels good, man.
Turn to freedom, face bad fortune.
This from the one praised from nothing and commended for little to no effort.
But I’ve never been the man who enjoys the La-Di-Da
The relationship with my father has experienced an odd role-reversal since I’ve been gone. By that I don’t mean in the sense that we’ve traded attitudes, it’s more a reversal of the traditional roles of an expected relationship.
It’s become pretty apparent to me that I was one of my father’s few escapes from the everyday bane of existence. It was never something I was aware of, because as is traditional with our side of the family, we’re a bit socially inept. Little did I know that those ever dwindling conversational exchanges were something that he held dearly, they seemed so off-the-cuff and non-essential.
Now I do the bi-weekly phone discussion — we’re both terrible at phone etiquette– and he’s so eager to hear any remnant of something that hints at progress. What’s to tell when most of my life is surrounded by so much short-term routine and dormancy? It’s hard to bear and makes keeping in touch a bit of exercise in futility, a push and pull of nothingness.
Since we’e both not so hot on the communication front, I felt making him something that expressed any emotion normally not expressed would work better than phone progress report. This is it, is iffy
*but it’s now finished, more or less.
Better than nothing.
Ayn Radd – Father