The emails come in with questions about subliminal messages related to lines about peppering the pikes of others.
“What kind of subliminal messages are you trying to send?”
The response is simple, “who says I am not being direct? I am pretty blunt when I want to be?”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yeah, it is a yes.”
“Why don’t I understand?”
“Because I don’t want to bend you over the couch, take you for a long ride and or tell you all my secrets.”
“You’re a hell of a romantic, aren’t you.”
“I am a hell of a something, don’t know that I’d include romantic, but others might.”
“Why do I feel like we are talking in circles?”
“Because the 360 degree rule applies here.”
He tells me I am insufferable and I thank him for his kind words.
A certain teenage boy and I are engaged in a heated discussion and I tell him I haven’t begun to demonstrate the full force of my will.
We go back and forth and I tell him I am well acquainted with heartbreak, “I have felt destroyed before.”
I let that sink in and tell him I always get back up.
“That is my expectation.”
The sunsets in California are beautiful and I have been privileged to stand at the edge of the water and watch the sky paint itself in a series of colors.
It is something I have made a point to do elsewhere as well be it New York, Tel Aviv or Maui.
The master painter is no slouch and he/she/it has given me ample reason to be pleased with what I get to see in Texas.
On a Sunday evening I don’t stop to admire what I see but I note my appreciation and keep walking as there is a mental list of tasks to be completed.
There is a memory floating around inside my skull that hints at answering some questions that have been troubling me.
“I caught you once and I can do it again” slips from between gritted teeth at which point I realize I must have said it out loud as the couple walking in front of me turn and stare..
I flip a hand wave at them and push past increasing the pace and ask myself if I am truly ready to commit to a couple of big changes.
The question isn’t about capability but of willingness.
It reminds me of a conversation with the 19 year-old about what he could do in the gym if he wants to.
“I can’t make you do it or want it, but I miss the ease with which I used to be able to get certain results. I miss how I used to feel.”
He doesn’t care about those things and given he is a skinny rail there is not much to push upon. He deserves to be his own man, but needs to at least hear these words so that he has a sense of what could be.
Creation lies upon my mind.
A thousand pieces of glass lying upon the floor and light bouncing off of them giving me thoughts and ideas for what could be.
The idea of failing to try and unfulfilled potential haunts me more than failure and so I go back to the heavy bag.
Back where I can start throwing combinations again and find a rhythm that I can use to get lost in.
Later on in the day the phone will ring and someone will lay into me about something they read on Facebook and the family will ask if I was angry or irritated.
“Dad, you told them it was “fucking stupid” and they ought to “grow the fuck up” and then you got very quiet.”
I nod my head.
“I am not sure what to make of it because you sounded really angry and then it was gone.”
“I meant every word of it and they are lucky they weren’t here to try and lecture me because it wouldn’t have gone well for them.”
He asks me if that means I am not angry anymore.
“I said my piece and if they leave it alone I am good with it. It is over. I don’t have time this which is why I got upset. Don’t come to me with narishkeit and accuse me of nonsense. I have too many important things to worry about and no time to devote to it.
It is also why I let it go. I have been working hard at getting better at that.”