I have to respect the privacy of my family who mostly aren’t as quick to air their dirty laundry as I am but since I am one half of this relationship I feel compelled to at least say that my son told me two weeks ago that I could not see my two year old grandson or my then one day old grandaughter…ever! He went on to say that while he agrees he and I are “cool” that he saw no benefit to him from having any sort of relationship with me. That’s all I’m going to say…except as poor of a father I may have been (even though you say “we’re cool” but obviously not) you’re running down pretty much the same path I did my son. You’re divorcing the mother of your now two young children just like I did. You’re running through women like used Kleenex, just like I did, you’re making money just like I did, driving the cars, buying the guitars, collecting your vintage Rolex’s just like I did and in a way I deserve this boomerang effect….more than “in a way”, fuck, I deserve worse than you could ever do to me son, truth be known. Yes, it rips my heart out that I’ve never held your son now over two years old, or smelled his hair but you’re right…I haven’t earned that right other than via genetics. My point is, you’re running down the exact same, dark, cold, damp tunnel and I can’t get that through to you. I’ve told you I have but one regret in my life and you know what that is so I beg you to stop…take a drive up the coast or out into the desert and just listen….listen to that kid inside you that’s still there. You don’t get second chances in this life, not many anyway. I love you and know you love me so I’m cool, just wanted to say this to you, the best fatherly advice I can muster….this is a critical move….tread lightly! Dad
Song says it all…the night weighs heavy on his guilty mind…know this to my core…been at it hard now 42 years and with the exception of what’s left of what little conscience I was born with. You may remember this song but I bet you had no idea what it’s about….it’s about (to me) sitting in a fleabag motel in the worst part of whatever city on whatever day of my past 42 years of existence….could be a tuesday or could be Christmas Day…I’ve been at this juncture more than once on every day so take your pick…sitting in a room with burns in the carpet, roaches , water leaks, busted door frames with a chair propped up under the knob, sick to the bone (dope sick) and peeking out the window waiting for my connection to come back with whatever I was abusing that year (again take your pick I’ve done all there is to do…and then some) and having a hole in my soul as I call it that only that substance can fill….not for long mind you and when it stops working it leaves the hole even bigger so it’s a lather, rinse, repeat kinda deal much akin to a rat on a wheel…over and over again….deeper and deeper into demoralizing self loathing and downright hate to the point of holding a gun in my hand just wanting to end the pain but too weak to pull the trigger and thus….as this song says “cheat the hitman”.
….and right about there….with the gun in my mouth….finger on the trigger….comes a soft knock on the door…it’s him….lather, rinse, repeat…I fix and cough when it hits…and the bullet hits the bone…my eyes either roll back in my head as it nods and I start to drool into a fog or they flutter like a hummingbird’s wings and I can feel every single hair on my body stand on end and my heart does a drum solo and nearly pops out of my chest (it’s either the boy or the girl and sometimes it’s a bit of both).
That’s the best I can describe it like to those of you who’ve not walked this walk and those of you who have know all too well of what I speak…poor fuckers…
Over the years there have been many, many of my friends who crash, burn and clean up their lifestyle via rehab, jail, or a combo and for the most part remain my friends. My recreational activities do not define me nor do they preclude associating with those who may or may not share my lifestyle choices. There have been a few who have done a complete 180 in their lives within the past few years and I’m happy for them but I have a very low tolerance for those who preach to others. Live and let live and if I want anoyne’s opinion I’ll ask for it…I paid for my misery long, long ago…in advance, with interest as anyone will tell you so….
I started smoking and drinking at the age of five (yes 5). My parents used to have a bridge club with three other couples and once every four months they would host. They all drank and smoked (it was 1963) and my brother Tom and I would wait up in our bedroom for them to breakup and head outside to say goodnight and get into their big Chryslers, Buicks and Mercurys with fins and call it a night. Tom and I only had like 5 minutes to race downstairs to forage for leftovers while they were outside….Tom went for the leftover pies, cakes and candies while I went for the stogies, butts and drinks.
Smile all the time
Shine you teeth til meaningless
Sharpen them with lies
Will follow you around
Thats how you fight loneliness
You laugh at every joke
Drag your blanket blindly
Fill your heart with smoke
And the first thing that you want
Will be the last thing you ever need
Thats how you fight it
Just smile all the time
Just smile all the time
Just smile all the time