And if You Want to Know the Truth....
The truth is that yesterday was one of my best days of the year for getting jobs done. Got my trip sneakers and sox, got a rose bush, got daisies to plant, got food to cook, had the first bar-be-que of the spring, got the lawn cut, got banking done for the May trip, got tickets for Chepa and her babies for June, did three interviews for next week and the week after's stories, wrote a food review....
And a thousand other things and then it was time to serve and I asked Marco for something and he refused and I asked him again and then he refused--it was just setting the table for himself, Madeleina and me, couple of forks, couple of glasses, napkins, something to drink, real easy--and I suddenly blew my stack. And Marco said: I don't have to take this shit and I said, "Of course not, You can get the heck out of here." And he said I will and I said, FINE but don't take my truck. Don't even think about taking my truck. And so he packed a bag and went to his girl's house--a few mile walk--and I guess spent the night there and I slept fitfully on the couch, thinking how stupid I was and why, after all the medicine, all the ayahuasca I hadn't been able to come up with something that would coax him to join us, rather than flee. And all night I thought of that. Sitting up in the couch, wondering why I don't know anymore my now.
This morning I called him at work to say I was sorry and now he's home and he has mowed the entire lawn without me asking, so maybe he thought he overreacted as well, but I'm the dad and so the fault lies with me. You'd think I would have more tricks at my fingertips by 57, wouldn't you? But I don't. I feel so darned inadequate some times. And this was one of them.
Then I think about women, because I always think of women, and I wonder: Who the heck would want an useless son of a gun like me? I can't even figure out how to avoid yelling at my kid. No wonder I ain't getting any.
Sorry for the crude talk, Ms. M. I know better. I was just making a New York point.
1 comment:
THAT was not the truth.
You made a request, he declined, you got pissed, he got pissed too and left. That's it.
All that beating up you did on yourself could have been spent beating off (sorry for the crude lingo Ms M) but really Peter. You don't have to figure him out. all the peyote and vine potions do not tell you how to become a millionaire or how to get your kid to pick up his socks(or set the table). AND what's more, you don't have to be sorry for sticking to your guns when it comes to consequences. easy for me to say you say...but really, use the vine to bring you gifts, don't suffer waiting for answers. He loves you and you love him. You really do have a wonderful life, george bailey...great dad, provider, confidant, role model, friend, teacher...that's what you ARE, and that's the truth pbbbtttpbt(tongue out lilly tomlin)...forget about what you think you are not...maybe you don't get laid because you don't want to get laid. (it's just a thought) I never hear you talk about how you go out looking for tail, and come home empty handed...DUDE you can get snatch...it's out there if that's what you really want.
I say it isn't, and that's why you aren't boinking some topheavy broad's brains out right this minute.
you rock!
Post a Comment