30/12/06
Hi Donna & Eben,
We're sending this card to your home for Eben also because we're not sure what his address is at this point. We do hope that Eben is happy. Kim asks quite often if we have heard anything. It would be great if he kept in touch with Kim at least. They are brother and sister and it would do our heart good to know they have each other especially when we're all gone. Please let us know what is going on in his life. We haven't sent anything for in the past our cheques weren't cashed so I'm not sure how else to proceed.
Merry Christmas
&
A very Happy New Year
What?
It is bracing to realize that one's father is a moron. I don't know if I've written much on this here in the past, but this is my dad, whom I've met all of twice. Donna is my mother and Kim my half-sister.
Possibly I'm being a moron myself, but the tone of this letter is blowing my fucking mind. I met my dad and his wife and my sister twice at their behest when I was 21. I guess that's how old my sister would be now. Time flew the coop on me, sister.
The thing is, I'm pretty indifferent to the existence of my father. I didn't have to live through a divorce or any of that shit, so that's stellar. I grew up with no resentment. It was never something I even considered until I got off the train out there and ended up in their fucking yuppie lake mansion. My sister grew up jumping horses and yachting. My mother and I lived in a trailer park. They had a show dog. We had a coyote. I wouldn't trade for an instant, but fuck this fucking onus trip on my fucking mom. I've lived in the same place for four years. I've had the same phone number for like seven. I'm in the fucking phone book. My sister is on my MSN list-thing. I guess they'd rather think of me as some sort of transient and harass my mother (I should mention that this letter came nicely enclosed in overt Christian propaganda; what a blight the bastard son must be on his poor father's soul) than spend like ten seconds trying to actually contact me.
And CHEQUES? What cheques? If you want to send cheques send them to my mother you fucking dipshit.
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We're sending this card to your home for Eben also because we're not sure what his address is at this point. We do hope that Eben is happy. Kim asks quite often if we have heard anything. It would be great if he kept in touch with Kim at least. They are brother and sister and it would do our heart good to know they have each other especially when we're all gone. Please let us know what is going on in his life. We haven't sent anything for in the past our cheques weren't cashed so I'm not sure how else to proceed.
Merry Christmas
&
A very Happy New Year
What?
It is bracing to realize that one's father is a moron. I don't know if I've written much on this here in the past, but this is my dad, whom I've met all of twice. Donna is my mother and Kim my half-sister.
Possibly I'm being a moron myself, but the tone of this letter is blowing my fucking mind. I met my dad and his wife and my sister twice at their behest when I was 21. I guess that's how old my sister would be now. Time flew the coop on me, sister.
The thing is, I'm pretty indifferent to the existence of my father. I didn't have to live through a divorce or any of that shit, so that's stellar. I grew up with no resentment. It was never something I even considered until I got off the train out there and ended up in their fucking yuppie lake mansion. My sister grew up jumping horses and yachting. My mother and I lived in a trailer park. They had a show dog. We had a coyote. I wouldn't trade for an instant, but fuck this fucking onus trip on my fucking mom. I've lived in the same place for four years. I've had the same phone number for like seven. I'm in the fucking phone book. My sister is on my MSN list-thing. I guess they'd rather think of me as some sort of transient and harass my mother (I should mention that this letter came nicely enclosed in overt Christian propaganda; what a blight the bastard son must be on his poor father's soul) than spend like ten seconds trying to actually contact me.
And CHEQUES? What cheques? If you want to send cheques send them to my mother you fucking dipshit.
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29/12/06
Nothing a ridiculous stack of records and a big fucking new guitar won't fix!
Man, after nine days with a rental car it is gonna be the first step in the devolution of my mind reverting to bipedal locomotion.
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Man, after nine days with a rental car it is gonna be the first step in the devolution of my mind reverting to bipedal locomotion.
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27/12/06
She licked my teeth when we kissed. I guess I should have known right there. Fuck though. Love is in such poor taste, but I think that's what it was for a minute. On my end, I mean. I'm not sure because I think that was the first time. I'm not sure because I have a hard time differentiating feelings a lot of the time. I'm not sure because I don't believe in being sure. Maybe it was heartburn. My stomach is strong but I will die from the overtime my heart puts in. Thump thump. For the record I thought the teeth thing was cute. Lick lick. Yeah. Gross. Sorry.
But I'm pretty sure. Tragically boring. Tables turned for once. And oh do I deserve.
I have the best friends. An unprecedented twice back to the homestead inside a month, and I only wish I could be there more. Such a big empty house for my mother now. This is the beginning of the new age. I made them promise to visit her often and I know they will. My friends are better sons to my mother. They are all such good people I stood in the falling snow and cried tears of simple quiet joy the night before leaving. This time right now is substantial in a way I cannot quite decorate yet. The death of my grandmother has stepped me up the environmental ladder-chain and I must now be an adult. I don't know exactly how or why, but that is definitely what the deal is. It's my turn. Where do I even begin? I know less about the mundane (and thus important) parts of life than most people half my age. "Let's make a baby" was a bad idea, I guess. I will know now to use that to different ends when it must not be in the future. I can't think of a better way to turn an unwanted lover cold. I am completely ridiculous. I am also still totally in love. Somehow this doesn't bother me at all. I owe people so much more of this worst.
I am not a good person. Not even by my own standards. I'm so happy 'cause today I found my friends.
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But I'm pretty sure. Tragically boring. Tables turned for once. And oh do I deserve.
I have the best friends. An unprecedented twice back to the homestead inside a month, and I only wish I could be there more. Such a big empty house for my mother now. This is the beginning of the new age. I made them promise to visit her often and I know they will. My friends are better sons to my mother. They are all such good people I stood in the falling snow and cried tears of simple quiet joy the night before leaving. This time right now is substantial in a way I cannot quite decorate yet. The death of my grandmother has stepped me up the environmental ladder-chain and I must now be an adult. I don't know exactly how or why, but that is definitely what the deal is. It's my turn. Where do I even begin? I know less about the mundane (and thus important) parts of life than most people half my age. "Let's make a baby" was a bad idea, I guess. I will know now to use that to different ends when it must not be in the future. I can't think of a better way to turn an unwanted lover cold. I am completely ridiculous. I am also still totally in love. Somehow this doesn't bother me at all. I owe people so much more of this worst.
I am not a good person. Not even by my own standards. I'm so happy 'cause today I found my friends.
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02/12/06
My Grammy, Helena Margaret Hicks (nee Kelly) died yesterday morning, five days short of her ninetey-third birthday. She was a lilting, obstinate and very independently old-world woman. She had a razor-sharp wit even in losing her wits. Even after losing all sense of her surroundings she would recite long tracts of poetry from her childhood and snarl incisively at the doctors. She taught me the importance of caring about "who" vs. "whom," "its" rather than "it's," "burst" instead of "bust." She taught me to know the rules before they are to be broken. Catholic, she married an unreligious man in a supreme act of rebellion. As a young woman she taught in a one-room schoolhouse. She was only small but she was very big.
We were distant but close. We fought a lot. We existed at almost polar-opposite ends of personality and belief spectrums. Somehow this meant we each understood the other in ways others did not. She held my hand in hospital bed, and when no one else was around spoke the unspeakable: "I'm afraid of dying." She knew that I would know. That I would not reveal her weakness. She was an inordinately strong woman, and she held on after that for weeks shy of a year.
This is a selfish tear. My Grammy's gone. I am glad she's no longer in dissonance with herself. Losing a mind is a fucking shitty preface to death. She's free of that now.
I'm leaving town for a few days.
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We were distant but close. We fought a lot. We existed at almost polar-opposite ends of personality and belief spectrums. Somehow this meant we each understood the other in ways others did not. She held my hand in hospital bed, and when no one else was around spoke the unspeakable: "I'm afraid of dying." She knew that I would know. That I would not reveal her weakness. She was an inordinately strong woman, and she held on after that for weeks shy of a year.
This is a selfish tear. My Grammy's gone. I am glad she's no longer in dissonance with herself. Losing a mind is a fucking shitty preface to death. She's free of that now.
I'm leaving town for a few days.
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