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Monday, September 22, 2003

Posted 11:44 PM by sport

It looks like the surgery went well. It's been quite a day. We'll see.

Posted 4:06 AM by sport

Again, it's been a very long time. Life has been very bad and I'm sick of airing publicly this endless trauma. Tonight I write because my Dad is getting surgery tomorrow. His survival is decidedly uncertain. I'm terrified and filled with sorrow. A friend of mine lost her own Dad the other week, but I was neck-deep in troubles here and could offer only the most peripheral support. I don't think I'll get even that much after ignoring all my friends for all these months, and it's ok. I just love my Dad so much... I want him to meet our babies. I have nothing else to say right now. Well, just this -

Very recently I went to see a friend's band play. I got loaded. Afterwards, on the way back to the train, I stopped in for a drink all by myself in some bar. Put up some tunes on the juke, one of which was Leon Russell's "A Song For You." I love that record. The tune got to that part:
"I love you in a place where there's no space and time
I love you for my life; you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song to you"

This fucked me up... I began to sob at the bar... I mean SOB.
I'm cracking.
(I never did write a song that good, and it's not ever gonna happen.)
If I get back to this maybe I'll tell you how R*gan Gr*ce-V*ga found a way to make the 2nd anniversary of Pete's death even more painful for my sister and my parents. Or some of the other scary things that have made these past months so horrible. But I hope my Dad lives to see these babies so I can either write something positive instead, or just drift away from pointless self-expression altogether.

For now, I thank anyone interested enough in me or my work to check this blog at all, and send you my love and regrets for how it's all gone.

I wanted my father to see me succeed, but that never happened. He wants to hear my children call him "Grampa." I don't know what I'm still typing for... goodbye.

I love you, Dad.

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