the corner
Wednesday July 26th 2017, 9:51 pm
Filed under: damn,himself Tags:

It got rounded. Fast. I was texting “I’m fine, 11 of minutes of howling.” But that got interrupted, and by 13 minutes I was shouting. Loudly. The corner scares me, a bit, and how fast it got turned. Remember. Learn.



the second shot
Sunday July 09th 2017, 10:42 pm
Filed under: Boozy,himself Tags:

Easy to date, really. A first shot of vodka when he was born. Two, really, one to finish off the bottle the Soviet cultural attache gave my father when I was born, and one to start the new bottle 40 years later, bought from a rather less distinguished spot here in Echo Park. And tomorrow he starts pre-school. It’s not school, but it’s not not. He’s lived in a totally protected world of us, uncles and grandmothers, and our dearest friends (and the occasional sitter for money, one of whom was amazing, one solid, the other two less so), for his entire fucking life. [Got the music in you baby, tell me why. Grooving on the latter-day Mazzy Star album that is Cigarettes after Sex. Though their narrative isn’t really my life anymore, they would have been a nice touch in it all those years ago.] And the taste of the shot. Fuck. I love ice cold vodka. Plus it’s fucking hot and gross out. But two and a half years in the back of the freezer, and that shit is well fucking chilled. The taste almost like the feeling of smoking a cigarette, of a circuit in my brain suddenly completed, suddenly highlighting its own absence.

great blue heronPreschool. !. How the fuck is that possible? Into the world, with all its beauties and its pain, all its tendernesses and all its disappointments, all its joys and all its despairs. [One might say I’m slightly over dramatizing a toddler joining the “kitten room” tomorrow for a day that will likely involve playing with the water table, the cars, some trains, some stories, and if they can figure out how to make him nap I’ll pay them 50% over what they’re asking]. “Protect” isn’t really the right world. I think the most physically protective I’ve felt was walking along the river the other week. A great blue heron guarding her nest three or four feet from us was clearly deeply unimpressed. I pulled himself close, whispered to hold still and move slowly and marvel. She was a big fucking bird (who, after we’d walked a bit further on and turned back, proceeded to cross the road to take a shit before returning to her nest.) I felt a powerfully visceral “back the fuck off” feeling, something close to how I felt every time I saw a person when he was tiny and strapped to my chest.

The vodka has been pleasant sipping, but it’s losing its icy viscosity. Bottoms up, kid. You and I will do shots together for your birthday when you’re quite a bit older. But for now, one for your birth, and one for starting preschool. As you’ll be in preschool for a few years, then 12 years of schooling, then another 4 for college, and perhaps another handful for another degree or three. So this is your life, really, for a loooooong time to come. Cheers. You’ll never know, I suppose, and that’s how it’s supposed to be, how it has to be, but I think even the reflections and refractions are enough.