|
doodley fuckin do or something along those lines or maybe it should be si se puede so like today my dear departed daddy would have been 79 years old. and since he was a raging smoker and an almost alcoholic for so many years, tonight i'm raising my glass of absolut n tonic to him. good old tom. a true man of the early 40s. back when things were simple and men were men and didn't show their feelings, and women cleaned house and knew their places. or something along those lines. god knows we never really got along all that much after i turned into a rebellious little punk teenager with my, as he put it, "typical punk attitude." and having grown up myself to inherit a lot of his darker, less acceptable habits, including drinking, a generally bad temper, certain workaholic tendencies, a fairly evil ultra-conservative mindset, and what not, i look back now and realize he was a pretty good father as fathers go. not perfect mind you, no father truly is, but all in all he supported and raised pretty damn good family. which is more than i can say at this point. and for those of you who think i'm crazy saying i'm conservative. think again. i'm conservative to the point on the circle where the ultra-conservatives meet the ultra-liberals, but think they're on opposite sides of the spectrum. a hard-core apathetic anarchist, liberatarian, how's that? but seriously, you think back without getting too maudlin and depressed over it, but fuck it, the guy was all right. there are, or were, sorry, lots of positives to this guy, which all tended to end shortly after i became a fucking teenager. but there are plenty of good memories of a pretty fucking good dad to a couple of brats let me tell you, and this site obviously ain't the place to get into those happy, sappy things. we are in a hole after all remember. heh. on the other hand, he hit me once, but it wasn't like i didn't deserve it. he drank, but it was pretty acceptable back then, and he kicked it for the most part cold turkey. he worked alot, but out of commitment, helped me out with stuff probably more than i deserved, and got me into this god awful career i'm in (damn him). and while we never saw eye to eye on most things, and i made horrible fun of him as a kid, i don't think i could have really asked for a better dad. he could have been kewler, but come to think of it he had three tattoos more than me ... and i don't have any ... and he had them before they were kewl. he could have been nicer and more loving at times, he could have been lots of things, but fuck, i turned out pretty well for the most part. heh heh. no really i did. i swear. there's lots of people way more fucked up than me. that dream of dying in the gutter on sunset blvd. with a needle in my arm, a guitar at my side, and a bevy of goth girls crying over my expiring corpse is really only a dream ... i swear i swear. so here's a toast to thomas or danny, whatever the fuck you want to call him. i call him my daddy. i never really got to say goodbye to him as he broke on through to the other side long before he should have, but i've still got the little pound puppy he had in his truck to remind him of his beloved pongo, who hopefully is with him at this point, and i've still got the little box he finally came home in, although he has been scattered over waters he truly loved and hopefully still can visit today. rock on danny, you kicked ass in an oh so 40's way. your son
|
take
|
|---|
