A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || June 3, 2008 || 10:55 am

and now here we are at one more summer

poker face*
:: poker face ::

Scout turned fifteen at the beginning of last month. Lemmy (center, above) and Christopher graduated at the end of it. My God….I swatted the behinds of those boys when they were in elementary school.

I called the first school Christopher applied to and recommended they give him the full vocal scholarship that he auditioned for. I did this with neither his knowledge nor consent. They gave it to him, so I called them back to thank the head of the music department, whom I’d spoken to previously. When I was told that my recommendation weighed greatly in the positive decision, I got a verbal pinky swear that he would never be told that I called in the first place.

Some blessings should only be blessings. Favors are many times laced with a compulsion for recompense.

Fuck that. I don’t want anyone to be obligated to me. That kid comes around and calls to say “I love you” because I feed him good chili and because I don’t pull any punches with him. I kiss him and scold him in equal measure, with the same intent for both: He knows I value him and his outcome.

I’ve been thinking a whole lot lately about how we can and do bless others just by being ourselves and doing things that we don’t really think much about otherwise. I want to do good in a way that’s as inherent as blinking. What harm I do I want to be purposeful, calculated and as nonexistent as possible.

3 worked it out »

  1. redclay 6.3.2008


    Jack Gilbert

    Easter on the mountain. The hanging goat roasted

    with lemon, pepper and thyme. The American hacks off

    the last of the meat, gets out the remaining

    handfulls from the spine. Grease up to the elbows,

    his face smeared and his heart blooming. The satisfied

    farmers watch his fervor with suprise.

    When the day begins to cool, he makes his way down

    the trails. Down from that holiday energy

    to the silence of his real life, where he will

    wash in cold water by kerosene light, happy

    and alone. A future inch by inch, rock by rock,

    by the green whet and the ripe wheat later.

    By basil and dove tower and the white doves turning

    in the brilliant sky. The ghosts of his other world

    crowding around, surrounding him with himself.

    Tomato by tomato, canned fish in the daily stew.

    He sits outside on the wall of his vineyard

    as the night rises from the parched earth and the sea

    darkens in the distance. Insistent stars and him

    singing in the quiet. Flesh of the spirit and soul

    of the body. The clarity that does so much damage.”

  2. omg you’re still here! omg. i’m still here. sort of. not really, well, but almost. omg! it’s good to see you.

  3. Jettomatika 6.4.2008

    Sometimes, when the door comes flying open and the past runs all up on me, I want to panic and maybe flee. Or shoot the someone careening in the door with my staplegun.

    …but sometimes I want to yell “NORRRRM!” or tackle the prodigal and plant kisses all over a face.

    Your return would merit the latter. I miss you, I love you, I no longer have your number, etc.


RSS feed for comments on this post.

(you know you want to)