Posted on

Ruining my own weekend plans

Wanting things to be different

I’ve not spent the 4th of July with anyone in years.

Alison spent most 4th of Julys with her extended family. Mouse did the same but not even extended family, just immediate family.

And for this 4th and the past one, the boy’s been away.

This year, I wanted it to be different. To this end, I made alla these plans with a pair of pretty brown eyes except, a few days beforehand, she asked me a question I couldn’t answer.

Her: I wonder if you can make room for someone in your life right now?
Me: What do you mean?
Her: You seem set in your ways.
Me: I think that, for the right person, I could find room.
Her: Yeah. For the right person.

And it made me realize a lotta things – not just about her and me – but about some questions that has been rattling around my head for a while now.

I finally understood what someone was trying to tell me for years. But, I suppose, that’s another entry entirely.

In any case, I didn’t sleep a wink that night. In the morning, I woke up and promptly ruined all of my weekend plans and hurt my own heart.

Still, it was – honestly – the most adult breakup I’ve ever had in my entire life.

Me: … I wanted to be upfront with you about everything.
Her: And I appreciate you being honest with me about all that. All that being the case, I think it’s probably best to just take a bit of a step back from this.

And that was that.

I was gonna just spend the weekend at home drinking but life had other plans for me.

To start with, that night, a female friend invited me to see a concert and then we sat on my stoop afterward to have some wine, something I hadn’t done in decades.

Somehow, we got onto the topic of our respective dating lives and god.

Her: The real spiritual path is a higher calling to true redemption.
Me: OK. I’m vomiting in my mouth right now.
Her: Oh man, you have so many issues.
Me: Refusing to have sex or hating God?
Her: Both.

The next day, I was supposed to go with the Counselor to see Isabel the Singer but things fell through there as well for a whole host of reasons.

Mouse was at the gym and I was tempted to ask her if she wanted to come but that always ends in a gun fight so I decided against it and just went by myself.

It ended up being pretty cool.

Isabel: Thanks so much for coming!
Me: It was great, thanks for having me.

On the way home, way later than normal, got a call from the Acrobat but I’ll keep that part to myself.

The next day – and totally outta the blue – a girl named NC that I’ve not really chatted with in close to a decade hit me up to chat.

After a spell, I invited her to come by Paxibellum because we actually met at my old gym years ago.

Me: Come by my gym and roll!
Her: I can come by on Friday!

She did and we had a pretty fun time. She said she’d try to come by again.

She’s trying to figure out things in her own life as well.

Man, aren’t we all?

Was actually supposed to get dinner with some friends in Chinatown with some other friends I’d not seen since before COVID but that fell through as well.

In truth, that was fine by me. My week was already a lot more social than I wanted after everything went down.

Figured that I’d spend the rest of the weekend alone at home, but life had other plans for me, which I suppose I’ll tell you about later.

Me: Why don’t you set me up with one of your coworkers?
Her: You do fine on your own. Besides, why would do that when you’re already in love with someone else?
Me: (sighing) Alison’s not coming back.
Her: (rolling eyes) I wasn’t talking about Alison, Logan.

Location: earlier tonight, the Campbell, thinking of my possible pasts – and possible future
Mood: conflicted
Music: tell me that you miss me – baby, get your ass home (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Posted on

Father’s Day 2022: It’s a brick

Not everything

When I went to get the boy this past Friday, he was in tears. His teacher said they were all talking about parents and I think it hit him that he was different from everyone else.

He handed me the letter you see above.

Me: I’m sorry. I wish she was here too.
Him: (sadly) Why does she have to be dead?
Me: I don’t know, kid. I wish I had an answer.
Him: But you know everything.
Me: (sighing) Not everything…

I asked the boy to let me sleep in for Father’s Day and he did.

When I woke up, he told me excitedly that he had a present for me and proudly gave me…two dollars.

Him: I saved it for you.
Me: Thank you, very much. I love it.

He has eight dollars. Had.

That he gave me two dollars, or 25% of his net worth, was touching, in its way.

I thought about that comedian Ronny Chieng…

…but only in passing.

Alison always said that she just wanted him to be happy and a productive member of society. I wish she was here to help me make her wish come true.

But she’s not. So, I try my best to do what I think she woulda wanted.

Him: It’s fine! The teacher doesn’t care.
Me: But I care.
Him: Why?!
Me: (putting down computer and looking at him) Every decision you make, everything you do, is a little brick that makes you, you. Every kind and unkind thing you do, every kind and unkind thing someone does to you, every thoughtful and thoughtless thing you do, is a brick in your person. At some point, all these bricks will be in place and, for better or worse, you will be you. And it’ll be hard to change who you are, once you are, who you are.
Him: But…
Me: (interrupting) I’m not done. I’m answering your question. I want you to be the best you that you can be and that happens when you care about the little things. Because, after a while, all these little things aren’t what you do, the little things are who you are. It’s my job to help you be the best you that you can be. And I always do the best job I can. And that’s why I care. Now, do it again.
Him: (sighing) OK, papa…

He wanted me to have cake so I baked him cupcakes.

A new sitter that we’re trying out, Lindsey, came by for a few hours so I could do some personal things, which I’ll tell you about in another entry.

When they came back, we went for a bike ride on Father’s Day because that’s one of his favourite things to do with me.

We went to a playground waaaaay downtown…

…and stopped by the swingset under the West Side Highway.

Man, what a headtrip this kid will have, when he realizes how much of his childhood was spent under highways and in the big city.

I remembered being there with Alison as they were building it.

But I also thought of my own dad a lot today. I miss him terribly as well. Both of them woulda gotten such a kick outta the kid.

Speakinga bricks, I’ve been trying to be a brick wall again but it’s hard carrying as much grief as I do.

My brother sent me an article about long-term grief, which I’ll tell you about someday, maybe.

On the one hand, it can’t be healthy to carry this much grief alla time.

On the other hand, what is grief but love with no place to go?

Location: earlier tonight, 20 feet south, telling my favourite person in the world that he was my favourite person in the world
Mood: conflicted again
Music: Love is just a game (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Posted on

His first piñata

A weekend with the boy

It was a gorgeous spring weekend this past weekend in NYC so I brought the kid out to as many things as I could while I could.

The first was a dance class that French Dancer actually taught with him and his friends, courtesy of the surgeon and his wife. They seemed to all have a good time.

She and I keep saying we’ll meet up for some coffee but, considering that she’s in her 20s, that would just be for the company. I’ll let you know how that goes.

The next day was a school fair where he asked, repeatedly, to get dunked…

…I ultimately relented and let him do something where a bucket of water was dumped on his head. He loved it.

All-in-all, we were there for a solid four plus hours and he had a blast. My only hope is that he has some nice memories of it.

If nuthin else, he got to spend a lotta time with his friends, which was sweet to see.

He also had some hot dogs – again –  and chicken to boot. I didn’t really want him to have them but he made a compelling point.

Him: Papa! It’s a fundraiser!
Me: Fiiiine. I’ll go get them for you.

The next day, we went to a playground where he made some new friends…

…and then we tried out his new bike, that was slightly too big for him but I figure he’ll grown into it…

…and then a birthday party with two of his classmates (twins – man, do I know a lotta twins in the world).

That piñata was a huge hit.

Huge.

All-in-all. It was a pretty sweet time with the kid this past week.

I  wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

He grabbed a ring pop outta the piñata. This is the aftermath.

Gotta say, I’m doing much better – mentally – now that May’s over.

Hoping this summer’s gonna be very different from the past few summers.

I’m looking for some joy and kindness if I can find it.

I do have some leads this time around, though.

Her: I’m bored. Come keep me company.
Me: Hard to resist an invitation like that, darling.

Location: earlier today, in Paxi for six hours total
Mood: optimistic
Music: You take my grey sky and turn it into blue (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Posted on

It’s always devestating

Honest and for true

Her: Do you want some cherries?
Me: Sure, rum if you have it, or beer – ideally light, since I’m watching my weight.
Her: Wait, I asked if you wanted cherries.
Me: (shrugging) I’ll just have any beer you have then.
Her: (laughs and gets two beers)

The boy just “graduated” his swimming class the other day

I remember learning how to swim at the YMCA on Northern Boulevard in Flushing, Queens.

Seems like a lifetime ago. Suppose it was.

He kept asking me to go to his last swimming class and the fact he so wanted me to be there was endearing. I couldn’t say no.

Him: You promise you’ll come?
Me: Yes.
Him: You swear?
Me: I do. But I don’t need to. I wanna see you swim.
Him: Really?
Me: (nodding) Honest and for true.

He got a certificate at the end of it and he stared at it with such joy and wonder that I wished, so badly, that Alison or someone was there with me to see how happy and proud he was, insteada just me.

Him: (noticing my face) You’re not happy that I finished?
Me: No, it’s not that at all. (smiling) Sorry, papa was thinking of something else. I’m super proud of you, kiddo.

Around the anniversary of Alison’s passing this year, the ABFF suggested we take the kids out for ice cream.

She actually got some balloons for the kids to write messages for Alison on and released them on her roof.

I didn’t go with them because I’d been pretty raw for a while.

It was touching, though, to see how much the ABFF loved Alison. I remember Alison telling me once how special she was to her as well.

Life is hard without your people. It’s always good when you find members of your tribe.

And it’s always devastating when you lose them.

We’re just left picking up the pieces.

Her: I’ll get some wine.
Me: I only like really sweet wines.
Her: Like what?
Me: Get a Moscato because I’m secretly a 65 year-old suburban Italian woman.

Read this report that people that lose meaningful relationships have long term mental, physical, and emotional issues – the more relationships you lose, the worse off you are in all three.

Couldn’t find that specific report but it’s pretty clear that good relationships lead to better lives all around.

And bad or no relationships lead to just awful lives.

In 2017, I lost both Alison and my dad, and I don’t think I’ve been anything close to who and what I used to be.

Just losing one would have been devastating but to lose them both within 90 days was more than I could bear, I think. Pretty sure I went a little starkers there.

Don’t really recognize who I was during that time, but I’m not sure who and what I am now.

Hope, whoever I end up being, it’s someone good. For the kid, if nuthin else.

I’m running outta time.

Location: earlier today, telling him not to be afraid of his dark room
Mood: messy
Music: look at our life now, all tattered and torn (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Posted on

Dear Alison, it’s 2022…

It’s been five years

Dear Alison,

It’s been five years since you died. Half a decade. That blows my mind.

This May is better than it’s been in the past, which – honestly – isn’t saying all that much.

The boy and I both miss you terribly. Well, I do. He misses a daydream of what he thinks you are. If only he knew how much better you really were.

The place is a mess but I’m trying my best. I just started making my bed, though. It only took 49 years.

God, you’d love this kid so much, honey.

He’s made of peanut butter and awesome. He can sing! Like, legit sing and play an instrument. No lie.

I’m so proud of him, I could burst, babe. You would be too.

I love him like a fat kid loves cake.

I love him because, he’s ours.

There’s so much more – good and bad – but I’m tired. I try my best not to think of you because things go dark when I do and I can’t go dark with the boy around.

I am his guard, after all. I have a job to do.

So I busy myself all these ridiculous things like strangers, Scenic Fights, and Paxibellum, but I’m just passing the time. Honestly, I would have been thrilled if I had the chance to spend the rest of my life just being your big-headed husband and the boy’s papa.

That would have been glorious.

Do you remember that stupid Blackadder joke I told you about years ago?

Him: Life without you is like a broken pencil.
Her: (puzzled) Explain?
Him: Pointless.

I think about that joke almost every goddamn day.

But lately, as always during this time, I find myself wishing that you were here and I was not. But, you knew that. You always loved life so, whereas, I always just loved you.

I’m going to put you away in my head again because I have to. It’s the only way I’ve made it this far. It’s the only way I can do my job.

But I’ll love you until the end of the world.

You knew that too, I suppose.

I miss you so much. It’s agony.

Our boy is the only thing that keeps me here. Because, I hate it here without you.

It’s all so pointless. It’s all so fucking pointless.

The Hubs

In My Life

There are places I’ll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I’ve loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more

 

Location: my possible pasts
Mood: heartbroken
Music: Not for better (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Posted on

I found treasure

Aloha Teahouse

Mother’s Day was hard. Alison would have been 43 this week.

That’s all I have to say about that.

Counselor: How was your Mothers Day?
Me: It started off pretty bad but ended really amazing.
Her: Oh, why?
Me: (excitedly) I found treasure! Hold on, lemme show you!

While I saw my mom and sister’s family for Mother’s Day, my head was fulla Alison and my dad.

My sister asked that I help clean out the basement, which was mostly my dad’s stuff, but also some of mine and my brother’s randomness here and there.

I’ll tell you more about all that later but do you remember when I told you about the paper umbrellas and my dad?

Well, there’s a coda to that story: He had alla these scary, but cool looking, mugs and glasses that we weren’t allowed to use. Those were for the customers.

Only discovered when I was older that they were tiki mugs and my dad’s restaurant – called Aloha Teahouse – was fashioned after a Japanese hibachi restaurant and tiki bar.

Fast forward to last week. My sister wrote my brother and me that she found a whole box of these.

Sister: Finally giving away these mugs from Aloha Teahouse that dad kept in the garage.
Me: (shocked) Wait! Is there one I could have?! I didn’t realize we had these!

Evidently, they’ve been sitting in our garage since 1984 and I never knew.

Asked her to hold onto four of them for me and she did. My book bag was already stuffed to the brim with things to bring back to my pad, which I’ll tell you about later.

Mom: Just bring back the cups next time.
Me: I can’t. I’m worried they’ll break or they’ll be lost. I gotta bring them back now.

Took my time getting home because I had to manage the kid, all the junk I was hauling back, the food my mom and sister gave me, and the treasure in my bag.

After getting the kid settled and putting away the food, I gently washed each one of the cups and dried them. Once the kid went to sleep, I put all four of them onto the kitchen table and stared at them.

The last time I laid eyes on them was in 1980, 42 years ago.

I had never drunk out of any of them because my dad wouldn’t let me since we were so young.

Somehow, they gave me comfort. I still haven’t drank out of them yet but I will. Maybe in 42 years.

They made me feel like my dad was still around.

I’ve not seen nor spoken to Mouse in months.

But we used to have this thing that we used my little cubby in the gym as a dropbox; I’d leave her things like stuff she left in my house and she’d leave random things for me, like a magazine she knew I loved to read but never bought.

A few months ago, I came in and found these paper umbrellas there.

No real reason, she just decided to leave them there for me.

I asked her why later on – she didn’t leave a note or anything, but I knew it was her – and she said that she just wanted me to have them so I could make the kid a Shirley Temple and tell him stories of my dad.

And that, in a nutshell, is Mouse.

As for me, I think I will use them for exactly what she suggested.

Maybe even with these cups/mugs. Maybe.

Him: Why can’t I touch them?
Me: Because they’re from my papa. He’s not here anymore and I miss him so much that just having these make me think he’s here. Because they were his, so they’re special to me.
Him: (sadly) I don’t know why but that makes me sad. I’m sorry your daddy isn’t here. (thinking) Can I give you a hug?
Me: Heck, yeah – c’mere, kid!

Quick little admin note, Chad and I are in a podcast this Friday the 13th at 11AM so tune in and check us out?

Here’s where you can go:

APPLE PODCASTS: https://podcasts.apple.com/me/podcast/ikuzos-unscripted-podcast/id1586974342

SPOTIFY: https://open.spotify.com/show/3FLnOT2GnvWBh2aqJq0sR0?si=1tVpICTbSFKO_PCdThYISQ

GOOGLE PODCASTS: https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9hbmNob3IuZm0vcy82YzBjYzhmMC9wb2RjYXN0L3Jzcw

DEEZER: https://deezer.page.link/kMHbvMuZ5Lw25ZaM6

INSTAGRAM: https://instagram.com/ikuzo_unscripted

WEBSITE: anchor.fm/ikuzounscripted

 

Location: 1979, a barstool in a hibachi restaurant on New York Route 141, drinking a Shirley Temple from a highball made by my dad
Mood: gutted
Music: I just wish I could have told him in the living years (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Posted on

What gets wetter the more it dries?

Unseeing things

Him: What gets wetter the more it dries?
Me: A towel.
Him: Correct!

It’s been a weird week, which sounds about right. Like always, I need to sort it all out.

Her: I just want to be normal and boring: A job that I sort of hate, two kids that have too many activities, and a husband that knows that when I make a certain favorite dinner of his, it’s my silent I Love You.
Me: Let me get the kid down and I’ll give you a quick ring. 
Her: Not best time to speak.
Me: OK, then we’ll try at some point. I’m sorry things are so hard.
Her: Thank you. I feel like you understand better than anyone else
Me: Like I said, grief and I are old friends. Take care of yourself.

For all the other single parents out there, I honestly don’t know how you do it. I’m tired all the damn time. Him getting COVID and missing a week of school didn’t help matters.

Still, I’m grateful that his COVID experience was radically different than mine. He was happy as a clam and at full energy levels.

Him: What was the tallest mountain in the world before Mount Everest was discovered?
Me: Hmm, I don’t know.
Him: Mount Everest!
Me: Clever…

He’s so full of energy and curiosity that it’s hard to manage. But I’m trying to see the world as he does – full of wonder and mysteries to be solved.

Him: (walking outside with me) How does water get into our apartment?
Me: (stopping) Do you see that wooden barrel on the top of that building? Ok there are two pipes inside, one small pipe that sends water up to the barrel. The second pipe is bigger and…
Him: (later) There are wooden barrel everywhere, papa!
Me: That’s called the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon; once you see something, you can’t unsee it.

Therein lies my problem with life. I’ve seen way too much. I know too much.

As much as I’d like to unsee things, most times I can’t. Which is why I value the ability to forget so much.

I spend a lotta my time actively trying to forget things and people. To survive everything I’ve survived, I have to leave so many things I once loved in the past.

Man, to be like this kid and see the world for the first time. To get a do-over.

Him: What are those lines in the street for?
Me: It’s so the cars don’t hit each other. They’re called “lanes,” and people try to stay in them to keep everyone else safe.

I’m not sure how I could possibly be more jaded. Shit, the entire month of May is a reminder of things I’ve lost and try to forget.

Him: What do you have to break to use?
Me: Eggs.
Him: Correct!

As much as I take care of the boy, the boy takes care of me as well.

I can be coldly dispassionate about things but, with children, that’s not healthy. So, I find myself trying to be in the moment with him as much as I can – with optimism and joy, which is pretty much him in a nutshell.

Him: What has four legs, is green and brown, and would hurt you if it fell off of a tree?
Me: (thinking) I don’t know.
Him: A pool table!
Me: (laughing) Well, that’s just silly.
Him: (giggling) I know! A pool table!

I know he doesn’t know that I’m faking it.

But I worry that, someday, he will.

See, while I know a shitton of nonsense, people escape me.

I don’t get people. While I’m great with people, I don’t understand people.

That’s a whole entry in itself.

In some ways, I’m great with the kid because I talk to him the way I talk to most of the world, for better or worse.

Few people get my full dispassionate cerebration, otherwise, I’d just be alone again, like I was when I was a kid.

Him: What eats apples and books?
Me: A bookworm!
Him: Correct!

I remember watching Dexter with Alison in Bermuda and wondering if she made the connection that both that character and I (to a much lesser degree) fake so much of being normal.

If she did, she never let on.

Suppose, in the end, it didn’t matter.

As for the kid, all I really want is for this kid to be better, and happier, than I. At the very least, I hope and expect that he’ll get along with people as well as I do but he’ll understand them in a way I don’t think I ever will.

If wishes were horses, yeah?

Him: What building has the most stories?
Me: A library!
Him: You’re good at these, papa!
Me: (nodding) I spent a lot of my life thinking, kiddo. A lot of time alone with my thoughts. Something that I hope you won’t have to do.

Location: the basement of my brain again
Mood: dreading Mother’s Day
Music: Are we out of the woods yet? (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Posted on

Cupcakes for brekkie

A small kindness

Been doing all sorts of activities to try to keep the boy entertained.

He’s happy to not be in school but misses his friends.

So, I just baked a whole crapton of almond flour chocolate cupcakes and cake for him, just to cheer him up and so he would have something tasty and, relatively speaking, nutritious.

Several of the boy’s classmates also have COVID, so we’ve worked out our own little pod system where they rotate time with each of us.

It’s better than nuthin.

Little girl: I’m bored.
Me: Wonderful! I have math problems for you to do.
Her: Noooooo! We’ll read.
Me: Good choice.

As always, May’s a pretty awful month for me in general. I still hate May.

Alison was born in May. She died in May. Mother’s Day is May.

It’s like, one hit after another.

On a smaller, but more annoying, note, it turns out that allergy season peaks in May as well. Of course.

Somehow, though, I feel that this May will be more manageable – emotionally, at least – than previous Mays.

One thing that really gave me a sigh of relief was when the kid’s teacher wrote to say that they wouldn’t be doing Mother’s Day or Father’s Day this year but “Family Day.”

Evidently, I’m not the only parent in the class that has an unconventional family.

I wrote her a short thank you and she wrote back that she was glad she could help in some small way to give me one less thing to stress about.

It’s the small kindnesses that I think I value the most.

Him: Can I have a cupcake for breakfast?
Me: A muffin is just a naked cupcake so, sure, why not?
Him: You’re the best papa, ever!
Me: This may well be true.

Location: in the gym for the first time in a while
Mood: hesitant
Music: you are my sunrise on the darkest day, got me feelin’ some kind of way (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Posted on

Everybody wants to rule the world

That must be nice

When my dad dropped me off at college, he gave me a hug and told me loved me before he left.

My suitemate – who was also Chinese – marveled at that.

Him: I don’t think my dad ever told me that he loved me.
Me: Really?
Him: Yeah. It’s not a really Chinese thing to do. Was he born here?
Me: (laughing) No, not at all.
Him: Oh. (quiet) That must be nice.

When I was a really young adult, I went to this rooftop party and chatted with this pretty girl. I suppose to impress her, I hopped onto the parapet while we were speaking.

Decades later, I still remember her eyes widening in horror. “Dude, we’re like 20 stories up! Get down from there!”

I remember laughing and hopping back down but then glancing over and realizing just how stupid that was. It was a straight drop down onto the Manhattan pavement.

The rest of the night was a disaster as I fully absorbed the what-if of that whole scenario.

The war in Ukraine eats at me for any number of reasons, least of which is the inequity of everything. These people were literally just living their lives when some douchebag decided to start murdering people, including pregnant women and unborn children.

And therein lies my own personal nexus with the matter.

Unlike Russia, which has been called the world’s gas station, Ukraine has a number of industries that the world relies upon. One major shadow industry they have is surrogacy:

It’s one of the only countries in the world where you can legally pay someone to have your own biological child.

For reasons we don’t need to get into now – although I’m sure you can guess – since 2021, I’ve been heavily researching surrogacy. To the point where I got one of my Russian speaking friends to speak to an agency about costs and procedures.

Fast forward to now. There are hundreds – if not thousands – of day/week/month-old infants whose biological parents are probably emotional wrecks knowing that their child – possibly their only chance to ever have a child ever – is being kept alive by nurses that are literally risking their lives just to keep them somewhat alive.

Man, Putin is really a special kinda motherfucker. Women really should rule the world.

It’s heartbreaking and maddening and yet another thing that pulls me away from the golden mean.

Just like the what-if of my parapet jump comes out of nowhere from time-to-time to haunt me, I’m haunted by the what-if I sent one of my only chances to have another biological child of mine and Alison’s to a warzone?

Would I try to get her, somehow? Or stay here to take care of the boy and not risk leaving him alone in the world?

Would she roam the world wondering who her parents were? Would she even be alive? Would people be nice to her? Would she be nice to people? Would she know she had a brother? Would she know I loved her?

Would she have Alison’s laugh?

 

 

Shit.

Him: Why are they doing that?
Me: I don’t know. I suppose everybody wants to rule the world.
Him: Do you?
Me: (thinking) If only to keep you safe. (later) I love you, you know?
Him: (laughing) I know.

Location: earlier tonight, just off West End Avenue and W. 79th Street, waiting
Mood: so conflicted
Music: It’s my own design, it’s my own remorse (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Posted on

Taking it apart

My pretty but dead dreams

I built that crib with Alison on September 13th, 2015. She was in her last trimester at the time and insisted that she help but I had her just direct for the most part.

Seven years later, I finally took it apart.

Well, not me, a fella from my gym that helps us out with stuff. I couldn’t do it.

Just like when my friends came by to paint it at the height of COVID two years ago, it was just something that I kept putting off.

Alison took that picture above, almost as a joke. I didn’t know she had brain cancer at that moment.

Put it off for two things, really.

One was Alison, of course. She was a part of that crib, just like she was a part of how that room used to look. The other was that I think I was hoping that maybe Mouse and I might have a kid of our own.

But they’re both gone now and the kid deserves to have a bed that matches his age instead of me clinging onto all my pretty, but dead, dreams.

When my buddy left, I sat down to finish the bottle of rum I’ve had sitting on my countertop.

I always have a bottle of fine aged rum on my countertop.

But, I decided against it and put it back. Had a cup of tea instead.

Baby steps, yeah?

Do you see the little boy’s outfit hanging on the closet knob in the background?

For a while now, I’ve been giving a lot of the kid’s clothes to Mouse to send off to her relative in the Ukraine.

The kid last wore that in December of 2019, when we went to that Christening in NJ. I always thought the kid looked adorbs in it.

That was something that I’d been meaning to give her for some time now, along with some other stuff for them, but I just hadn’t gotten around to it.

The thought that there’s some little boy running around in Ukraine, scared and confused, younger than my own kid, wearing my kid’s clothes, bothers me in a way I can’t fully express except to say that it’s fucking bullshit.

He’d be the same age as my kid was in that pic above.

It’s bullshit that some innocent kid has to pay for a billionaire’s greed for more fucking money.

I wonder if he’s dressed in one of my son’s outfits now. It bothers me because – but for time and tide – that couldn’ve been my kid.

Well, I guess I could express it, after all…

Doesn’t make it any less bullshit. Maybe I should have that drink after all.

 

Her: Why didn’t you tell me you were in LA? I would have seen you.
Me: I know. I had a lot going on. Have.
Her: What’s new? You’ll see me next time, though, yes?
Me: Of course, darling. Promise.
Her: (laughing) You and your promises.

Location: earlier today, waiting for the pool shower
Mood: trying to stay in the golden mean
Music: I don’t really feel bad news anymore (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.