However Long It Shall Take...
I wrote this a few days ago, but never had the chance to post it...
Life has been fucked up recently, so I figured I should be getting fucked up along with it. Here's a typical day in Russell household: Our main character, Luke, wakes up to a call from C. Weaver, saying that his car needs a fly wheel -- translating to an additional $400, and meaning a total of $1200 for being in the shop. Luke walks in the computer room and hits the flashing answering machine; there is a message from Monroe Muffler saying that his mom's car is now repaired and ready to go home. While eating some cereal shortly after, he foolishly spills milk on the desk as well as the keyboard. Fried keyboard. Soon later, his parents come home with sore spirits from another grueling day at Upstate Hospital. The washing machine is now broken too. Not significant, but it seems like everyone, and everything, is broken. He loses hope for happiness, hesitates, then takes a couple hits and gets ready to leave.
It's going to be another one of those days...
Carelessly, to and fro. The phone rings, and suddenly everything around me freezes -- a motion picture shot capturing the essence of pure tragedy. "What could it be now?" laughs Sandy. "Maybe someone died...", I reply dejectedly, going for the phone. In the meanwhile my dad is slowly making his way around the house, barely able to walk with his eyes half-closed and hunched over. I watch: He's choking, sputtering, and throwing up at the kitchen sink while my mom deals with some Roswell Park asshole on the phone asking for money about some book donation. Laughably ridiculous. I take it all in, and just contemplate. We get in the car and start talking. "When will there be good news for us?" as I explain to her how dismal life has truly become, how the story of our little happy family, utterly destroyed... how it's just simply a tragedy. Sure we had little everyday problems back in the day but we had everything that we could ever need, and I can say I truly felt something. And now we're shattered; it's all falling apart, halfway somewhere between two completely different lives. And it's like some sick form of waiting, almost. And that was why home videos were so depressing for me -- just that painful memory of when things were happy. Seeing my dad's eyes bright again, full of life. "Well your father's not dead yet, and we're still fighting..." she trails off. And I understand it all, almost. I might be able to do it. I don't ever want to imagine a life without him, but someday I might be strong enough. But he is still here, and I need to make the most of it while I still can. And not think. When I do though, it puts a lot of trival shit in the right perspective.
Sipping his wine, he continues to type away.
We arrived at C. Weaver wielding my dad's dry erase board, upon which he wrote a message asking about cutting us a discount because I don't have a job and he isn't working because of his cancer. Tony, whom had known our family for over a decade, quickly agreed to give us a deal on the car repairs. No, it's probably not right to exploit his illness to benefit us, but if it makes our lives that much easier, so be it. My Geo cost me $1111 -- the clutch went on it along with the pressure plate and fly wheel. I was thinking about calling up Xhibit to see if West Coast Customs wants to "pimp my ride", lol. But actually, I'm considering getting some racing decals, tinted windows, and spoiler for my Geo [in that order]. We'll see. I didn't intend for this entry to be completely pessimistic, I just have a lot of trouble imagining a life without him. Even though the demons surround me, everything is not all bad. Especially in life. Maybe someday I will find happiness; it's the only thing keeping me going. Hope, and salvation.
When I'm losing my direction I run that self-inspection I learn my lessons, well...
Life has been fucked up recently, so I figured I should be getting fucked up along with it. Here's a typical day in Russell household: Our main character, Luke, wakes up to a call from C. Weaver, saying that his car needs a fly wheel -- translating to an additional $400, and meaning a total of $1200 for being in the shop. Luke walks in the computer room and hits the flashing answering machine; there is a message from Monroe Muffler saying that his mom's car is now repaired and ready to go home. While eating some cereal shortly after, he foolishly spills milk on the desk as well as the keyboard. Fried keyboard. Soon later, his parents come home with sore spirits from another grueling day at Upstate Hospital. The washing machine is now broken too. Not significant, but it seems like everyone, and everything, is broken. He loses hope for happiness, hesitates, then takes a couple hits and gets ready to leave.
It's going to be another one of those days...
Carelessly, to and fro. The phone rings, and suddenly everything around me freezes -- a motion picture shot capturing the essence of pure tragedy. "What could it be now?" laughs Sandy. "Maybe someone died...", I reply dejectedly, going for the phone. In the meanwhile my dad is slowly making his way around the house, barely able to walk with his eyes half-closed and hunched over. I watch: He's choking, sputtering, and throwing up at the kitchen sink while my mom deals with some Roswell Park asshole on the phone asking for money about some book donation. Laughably ridiculous. I take it all in, and just contemplate. We get in the car and start talking. "When will there be good news for us?" as I explain to her how dismal life has truly become, how the story of our little happy family, utterly destroyed... how it's just simply a tragedy. Sure we had little everyday problems back in the day but we had everything that we could ever need, and I can say I truly felt something. And now we're shattered; it's all falling apart, halfway somewhere between two completely different lives. And it's like some sick form of waiting, almost. And that was why home videos were so depressing for me -- just that painful memory of when things were happy. Seeing my dad's eyes bright again, full of life. "Well your father's not dead yet, and we're still fighting..." she trails off. And I understand it all, almost. I might be able to do it. I don't ever want to imagine a life without him, but someday I might be strong enough. But he is still here, and I need to make the most of it while I still can. And not think. When I do though, it puts a lot of trival shit in the right perspective.
Sipping his wine, he continues to type away.
We arrived at C. Weaver wielding my dad's dry erase board, upon which he wrote a message asking about cutting us a discount because I don't have a job and he isn't working because of his cancer. Tony, whom had known our family for over a decade, quickly agreed to give us a deal on the car repairs. No, it's probably not right to exploit his illness to benefit us, but if it makes our lives that much easier, so be it. My Geo cost me $1111 -- the clutch went on it along with the pressure plate and fly wheel. I was thinking about calling up Xhibit to see if West Coast Customs wants to "pimp my ride", lol. But actually, I'm considering getting some racing decals, tinted windows, and spoiler for my Geo [in that order]. We'll see. I didn't intend for this entry to be completely pessimistic, I just have a lot of trouble imagining a life without him. Even though the demons surround me, everything is not all bad. Especially in life. Maybe someday I will find happiness; it's the only thing keeping me going. Hope, and salvation.
When I'm losing my direction I run that self-inspection I learn my lessons, well...