Wednesday, March 27, 2013

i don't even know if there is a joke

whatever you want to be, whether it's a millionaire wheel-chairist, an orphan surfer, or a superhero mom, all you need is the nerve to exhibit that desire. then hit send.
truth beats fiction for strange.
this morning i rocked him to sleep his heavy blue eyes stared at mine. he half smiled. knowingly. i felt my dad. i loved most his clear eyes that shined so blue when he cried. when he stared at me. 
it makes me queasy to think of him gone. gone. 
last night at young women's 17 year old mashae came over to me and baby, "i want to be you." "oh, mashae, i would trade places with you, go back 20 years." 
there are regrets. there are things to be done differently. there are dreams you cannot revive. those dreams do not go gently into the good night. they rage. the only caveat i place on my truce to switch places with her is that i would still be able to have charly, deven, deacon and everett.  if deal.


"People will kill you over time, and how they'll kill you is with tiny, harmless phrases, like: 
'be realistic.'" --Dylan Moran

"A lot of parents will do anything for their kids, except let them be themselves." --Banksy

my mom is her family. that is what my mom does. so devoted. i love she never misses a sports game of the kids, i love at times she thinks she is taking a picture but the camera is on video and we get a long video of randomness. i love her white hair. i love she always has her shoes off. i love her. she helps me so much.
march is my mom's and charly's birthday month.  somehow mom gets overshadowed by char. mom even helped put together charly's party.
charly is amazing. she is so capable and lovable. her 14th birthday party was the most elaborate yet. lots of kids, moving all the furniture out of the house, laser lights synced with music, cotton candy machine, fire pit, food...i am exhausted.
i cannot wait to see the many birthdays to come. i hope each one celebrates this occasion with style and joy, because if there is anything to be celebrated in this world it is the birth of her.
i hope her teenage years have birthdays full of wild dancing and friends, her twenties have birthdays spent in lands like Italy and Switzerland, her thirties with family and possibly a spouse who feeds her soul and understands her needs, her forties with her growing children who will worship her, her fifties with her old mother who she will be taking care of, her sixties with her church crew and grandbabies.
char, i hope each birthday you will continue to celebrate without abandon. i will be there for everyone of them.

turning 14
 turning 3
 turning 4
my mom turning 60


Friday, March 8, 2013


...if I be shaven, then my strength will go from me, and I shall become weak, and be like any other man. 
--Judges 17:17
little nordic samson was shaven, but even with the hair it is doubtful he could have torn a lion. he is scared of being alone once the sun goes down, masks, and black lighting terrifies him. so, i guess samson had superman power due to his hair (but he was also attracted to unfortunate women). so hopfully we can avoid the latter and keep the former.  deac has power and strength. not to tear up a real life lion, rather, to be obliviously joyous.  he plays pretend with himself for hours.  sometimes i will try to jump in and play with him only to find that the 10 other characters he is playing with in his head leaves little room for me. deac is kind, longsuffering and tolerant. he reads like a madman at the age of 6.  this is the reason he got an email account last night, he can read emails. type emails. he is devoted to our nightly ritual of reading three books after he brushes his teeth with his lady gaga toothbrush. then falls asleep in my bed while i scratch his back. he is wonderful. short or long hair that kid has it goin on.

Saturday, March 2, 2013

my zoo of the new

Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new

Whose name you meditate-
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,

Stalk without wrinkle
"Child" -Sylvia Plath