Speak.
APK | January 20, 2010 | 11:24 amLet us talk, today. I will put on my smoking jacket and light a pipe and lean waaaay back in a comfy chair. Then we may talk of many things, of sheep and clouds and feral badgers. We can talk about robots and death-rays and plaid pants. Perhaps later we can curse a bit and punch some random small woodland creature that may have wandered too close. Maybe head butt a raccoon, if that’s what we really want.
Yes, I invite you in, to my home, where it is safe for most all. Don’t mind the curtains, they’re new. Yes, yes, I know, shockingly yellow. What can you do. Anyway, we should talk, now, of many things. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, cabbages and kings – of course. Why the sea is boiling hot and whether pigs have wings. Yes, yes, I mean most certainly, but we have more pressing matters to ramble on about, do we not?
Most days I find something from my life, surroundings or deep in my brain, to share with you. On occasion, however, I want you to share with me instead. This space can be used to discuss what you want. So talk to me, of many things, today.
Okay, here is what is at the forefront and I’ve been trying to find a way to write about it that is not all, “WOE IS ME, *rend garments, rend garments*”: My son turns eighteen Thursday. Yesterday he came to my office (smart kid, because I have to keep my cool at work) to tell me that I won’t be cooking him his birthday dinner that night as he’ll be down at MEPS in Montgomery, doing the first round of his Army inprocessing.
Now something in my head is all yelly and something in my chest is all grievey and I’m trying to be a good supportive parent and I want my children to pursue their heart’s desires and oh my GOD, Adam, the world is such a sweet hot fucking mess right this very now.
It is, but to be fair when has it not been? Sweet hot fucking messes are what we, as a race, do best. Still, that’s not helpful, I know. And it sucks, it does, but can you do dinner for him right after his first round of inproc?