That Instant

you know you could throw sparks off of your fingers if you could snap them hard enough and you remember where your friends live and that light blazes the trees and woods they've built and you know they will not and could not bring the person you fell in love with years ago and you know, anew, the years have treated yourselves differently as recklessly as you knit them the same.

What Makes You Laugh 4

I can't help chuckling, putting the coffee pot on and thinking about where the day is going to go and where this presidency is and that faint fog of dread that crawls along the ground these days.  To be clear, we all know how this story ends, right?  Regardless of if he actually helps a single person that actually needed it or makes lasting, real, improvements to any segment of the country that actually needed improvement, it goes like this:

In the waning days of his presidency, he will declare that he was the greatest president to ever overcome what he had to overcome for you, the hardworking, tax paying, glorious American citizen.  In the face of adversity, mountains of prejudice and discrimination to him and his family, unprecedented and unjustified scrutiny and opposition propaganda, and a congress of Democrats that refused to get out of the way of progress and reform and change, he worked tirelessly to make this country the greatest it has ever been since the days of the revolution and he will further declare that "haters gonna hate" and that history will tell the true testament of his tremendousness long after the fake facts have faded.  He will declare the war on terror to be a He will then proceed to throw absolutely everyone he can't use in his businesses under the bus for anything and everything that blew up in his face or turned out to be completely empty campaign gibberish lies and then walk off to one of his golf courses or towers, hopefully never to be heard from again with a half built, useless to begin with, wall as his lasting legacy.

I can't help chuckling because you know that's how it's going to go, right?  Dear god, please just don't let him end up on the motivational speaking tour... his ego, probably won't let him fade into obscurity though. Another thing that makes me laugh is this visual in my head of Donald as a kid with his arm jammed in the bottom of a vending machine absolutely thrilled he found a way to get what he wants out of it without having to risk tipping the machine over onto himself by rocking it, but not realizing just yet that he is stuck...

That Instant

you can't remember the name of a specific tool that will help you open up the battery box on your motorcycle to fit a larger battery and you discover that "spreader bars" and "spreader clamps" are two very, very, different things.

Dear (_____)

Dear Infectious Laughter,

I'm never sure if I should refer to you by name.  I hope a cure is never found for you.

Sincerely,

a kid trying to catch his breath

That Instant

you realize you've deconstructed your origin forty three thousand, six hundred, and twenty eight ways to Sunday and the fact remains some things cannot and will not be able to be forgiven. 

Proclivities

Why do I enjoy the things that I do?  It cannot all be chance.  The chance of it all being chance is just silly.  Laughing to myself while I compose the thought from hundreds of shards, I understand a little something.  Those somethings follow:

I wouldn't be as into giant robots as I am should I not have seen a manual when I was younger.  I wouldn't be as into mythology and comic books had I not seen so many when I was younger.  I would not be in to so many technical diagrams had I not been presented them when I was younger and I'm not talking about diagrams of machines as much as human bodies.

I probably could have avoided getting beaten as often as I did if I didn't dive into diagrams of the naked form as were provided.  Which is kind of hilarious because I wouldn't be as good as I am at seeing them for the bones they are now if I hadn't seen them when I was a small fry.

I cannot help laughing, explaining it now.  "Why do these things occupy so much of your head's space?"  I don't know.  I'm sure parts of it are generated within myself.  Absolutely.  Why can I not look at someones face and see the wires beneath it?  The bones and structure and frame it in a comic books frame or a films sketch board?  How come I cannot turn that off?

For the same reason that I cannot approach someone without thinking about and forecasting how to defend myself.  "You have to learn how to fight!"

These are questions only your parent can answer.

I've been refused answers.

Wiping saliva from my computer screen, it is true.  That is part of why I laugh hysterically.

The greatest complement, I've heard, is emulation.  Copying.  That is also what I've been taught.  How do you learn?  By emulating.  How do you create?  Learn the rules and then you can make whatever you want to.  OR.  You can feel an audience and play to a crowd.  OR.  You can do what appears to be reasonable and go from there as long as no one dies in the gears of your operation.  As long as no one gets hurt.  There are many rules.

I am sad.   I am thorough.  I am skattered.  I am some original parts and some parts straight from the manufacturer.  I am not thrilled.

The manufacturer insisted.  I argued.  The manufacturer insisted.

I do wonder, if he had it to do over again, would he.  That question will never be answered.

So I draw and I build and I create and I war and sometimes I scuffle and I hold grudges and I love forever and I hate and I draw, I build, I design, and model, and color, and I never quite know exactly why.  I don't know if I'm the best version of myself or if I will never know the answer that I expect to go hand in hand with that question.

Every few days out of a month it enrages me.

I cannot force him to speak on his behalf, as he many times made me do.  I wish that on no one.  By that rule, I do not wish that on him.  The best I can do is detective work and let him know, unless he is willing to open up the book of death, he has no place in my world.

I wasn't asking for my abusive father for an apology.  All I was asking for was accountability, being old enough to talk to him person to person.

I got stonewalled.  And that's that.

Nothing more to do except continue to build my own life, evolve one baby step at a time, and continue to try my damnedest to forget about him and hope he dies sooner than later.  For now that's the best we can do.





///Mos Def - "Umi Says"

Most definitely.

Dear (_____)

Dear We,

I will never leave you.  I will never destroy you.  I will not erase you.  I will not hurt you.  We will continue to live.  Together.  Try not to be afraid.  When you are afraid you hurt us and damage the links that keep us close and the links that allow us to be a part of larger fabrics.  You have nothing to fear from me.  I cannot lie.   You can trust me.  I am you.  I will not allow you to come to harm.

with love,

We

The Best Thing

about not joining the 27 and under club is

to show that celebrity and savant and prodigy

are not

the only unstoppable engines that are beautiful

worth the salt of tears.

Dear (_____)

Dear Renaissance Gent,

Every now and weekend you realize you are worth your salt at just about anything and very very good at almost nothing.  There is nothing you cannot do poorly and a couple of things you can do with deadly dexterity and those things have no value on their surface to anyone who would even give them a second glance.  You are always out of your depth and comfortable.  You are a big fish in a big pond and a small fish in a muddy ocean.  I hope you feel okay.  I hope, too, that how you feel has little to do with what you do.

Sincerely,

the ocean

The Best Thing

about the right ear piercing is that you learned how to pierce ears and made your left ear to match and you can remember one of the best gifts you were ever given was the gateway.

That Instant

you remember you wear the scars on the outside so that you will never forget the truth.  So that the sands of time will not cover it.  So that the fog of war will not obscure it and you understand anew that without a historian and a librarian and one that takes no sides - all is lost.

you remember some things are not forgivable.

you remember someone has to pay and you remember whom.