+ drywall nightmare 44 +
So most holidays are pretty bullshit. Media and corporate America suck all the fucking meaning out of ‘em, and then we’ve got a Hallmark affair. People feel obligated to do stuff just because it’s such-and-such holiday, and societal expectations demand that we conform and take part; you’re made to feel guilty if you ain’t done what’s expected. Best one I can think of is Valentine’s Day--sure, we’re all a little jaded (who the fuck was Valentine anyway?), but no one wants to be the dickhead who doesn’t do something for...whomever. So we’ve gotten material. We think in terms of have I got this? Is this the kinda card she really wants? We try to load obligation and gratitude into one moment, one day, one orgasm of thank-you, this is what you mean and then casually save up for next year.
I ain’t no Buddhist scholar, but I think part of the principles therein say that every second, every task should be packed with meaning. That you should do every single thing with the same purpose you’d accord to somethin’ like--I dunno. Maybe like writin’ a poem. Carin’ for a garden. Plannin’ a weddin’. A celebration. Everythin’s supposed to be a celebration--or at least a part of reflection. And here we are, with one day. A single day, in which you’re supposed to show the person who fuckin’ gave you life that hey, they did something awesome. I mean, couldn’t y’spend a whole goddamn life just sayin’ thank-you for that shit alone? Nevermind any of the other stuff like...I dunno. Just bein’ there. Somehow makin’ sure you got dinner and breakfast and you put your goddamn coat on before y’went outside. Teachin’. Bringin’ you to karate lessons and explainin’ why grass is green and why sisters are important and how you have one thing to protect...
Lots of stuff. How can you throw a label on that? Fuckin’ morons.
[Private]
And I really wish I could do even that, right now--give her flowers and forget to find a card and be pissed when Dad tries to make dinner. I wish I could tell her. I wish I could explain how every single moment of my childhood's permeated with her warmth. How I do everythin' now, for her.
I don’t know what Dad’s doin’. I dunno about Karin and Yuzu. I can’t bring myself to call and just pretend I wanna know what’s goin’ on--Dad’s smarter than I ever give him credit for, and I don’t wanna spend the day sittin’ in the clinic tryin’ to talk. I can’t fuckin’ bear it when he gets serious. I can’t bear it when he acts like a moron. I think I just can’t stand stickin’ around knowin’ he still cares when I took her away like that.
I’ll put a penny under my tongue tonight. To remember.
I ain’t no Buddhist scholar, but I think part of the principles therein say that every second, every task should be packed with meaning. That you should do every single thing with the same purpose you’d accord to somethin’ like--I dunno. Maybe like writin’ a poem. Carin’ for a garden. Plannin’ a weddin’. A celebration. Everythin’s supposed to be a celebration--or at least a part of reflection. And here we are, with one day. A single day, in which you’re supposed to show the person who fuckin’ gave you life that hey, they did something awesome. I mean, couldn’t y’spend a whole goddamn life just sayin’ thank-you for that shit alone? Nevermind any of the other stuff like...I dunno. Just bein’ there. Somehow makin’ sure you got dinner and breakfast and you put your goddamn coat on before y’went outside. Teachin’. Bringin’ you to karate lessons and explainin’ why grass is green and why sisters are important and how you have one thing to protect...
Lots of stuff. How can you throw a label on that? Fuckin’ morons.
[Private]
And I really wish I could do even that, right now--give her flowers and forget to find a card and be pissed when Dad tries to make dinner. I wish I could tell her. I wish I could explain how every single moment of my childhood's permeated with her warmth. How I do everythin' now, for her.
I don’t know what Dad’s doin’. I dunno about Karin and Yuzu. I can’t bring myself to call and just pretend I wanna know what’s goin’ on--Dad’s smarter than I ever give him credit for, and I don’t wanna spend the day sittin’ in the clinic tryin’ to talk. I can’t fuckin’ bear it when he gets serious. I can’t bear it when he acts like a moron. I think I just can’t stand stickin’ around knowin’ he still cares when I took her away like that.
I’ll put a penny under my tongue tonight. To remember.