Got an itch I can’t quite scratch and I haven’t found the song yet that holds my attention for very long. It is part of the process and I remember and recognize it, but it doesn’t mean I particularly like it.
Had a bunch of people tell me how sorry they are that dad died, more than a few of them have said they understand because their father died too.
“I am awfully sorry Josh. My dad died in X, it never goes away the pain that is.”
Presentation is everything which is why I am not bothered by some who say it and irritated by others.
Kind of reminds me of the person who takes a bite of a sandwich, gags and then while telling you how awful it is offers it to you.
“This tastes terrible, you take it.”
“Why thank you, I want to consume your partially eaten ‘terrible tasting’ sandwich.”
The Things We Know
I know exactly what I want to ask and exactly why I refuse to ask it.
Chalk it up to the things we know such as water is wet and the sky is blue and the desire to know the intimate details of such things.
The scientist inside says one must pose the hypothesis and test it so that one confirms what one suspects but the poet says “fuck that. You and I both know what is going on and where it all leads even if you pretend you don’t.”
Ya know cuz sometimes you play your songs again cuz you have to play the game and pretend.
Got to take your ticket, jump in the car and hold on because the tracks you think you follow never work as you wish or think they should.
Somewhere out in the ether I hear my father’s voice and think about the conversations we had knowing we talked at length about the good, the bad and in the in between stuff.
Ever grateful that we filled his grave in its entirety knowing I would have gone back and finished it because I couldn’t have rested.
Dad would tell me it wasn’t necessary and said not to get into trouble and I would have shook my head at him and said “try to stop me.”
You who read this now may not know of the times we went to war and that is how I think of it.
We made our peace long ago, but there were moments where I know we didn’t like each other. Love was never a question cuz we always had that, but those other moments weren’t filled with the sort of kindness father and son are supposed to have.
Maybe it is because we were too similar and maybe because we were too different.
Or maybe it is because I fought so damn hard to prove I was my own man I went two steps too far.
Doesn’t matter, those days are gone and we made our peace with it. Made it long before cancer reared its ugly head, but after it did I made a point to talk about these things anyway.
Mistakes and Bits
I ought to fix that quote above so that it is easier to read. Ought to spend time going through this joint fixing more of the little things because the little stuff makes a difference.
Might miss out on something interesting if I did that cuz sometimes the raw stuff yields some pretty interesting results.
And midway into this paragraph something happens, something distracts me and I lose focus. Can’t remember what the hell I was saying or where I was going so I suppose I’ll just roll with it.
I am looking forward to the weekend. Looking forward to having more time to decompress and not have to wait or run.
Time to unwind, let go and maybe sleep as Wilner men sleep–deep, undisturbed and without effort anyplace, anytime, anywhere.