Friday, July 18, 2003

Just found out this very evening that my mom reads this blog now and again, no mean feat with her 1994 macintosh. Amazing that she alone of my enitire vast family would read my sometimes excruciating entries. And ironically, she is thus concerned about my mental health, etc.

Stop drinking now, advises mom. Sound counsel, and yet...

drinking sounds so good. And even if the result is as bad as tonight (read this as: as bad as bad can be save getting shot) I would still elect it because it is uncontrolable. In this world, that level of frankness needs appreciation. Indulgence, even.

Right, mom?

Sunday, July 13, 2003

Man, I am realizing all the more that the world sucketh. Here I am listening to some pirated-ass live Charlie Parker MP3 of the genius playing all strung out for a bunch of white boys in 1951 who are so trying to be hep and dealing with the very real, very now suicide of my wife's dear old friend Nancy who despairingly hung herself in her basement a couple nights ago.

Meanwhile, my daughter is also here watching this play out and processing her mom's penchant for discussing suicide, etc. We're fughting for custody, and I pried a shotgun from her mother's hands a few Xmases ago, an image that haunts me to this day.

I try to hold all the ends together and think about my own long-ago brush with this nonsense.

Jesus. I already feel like a fuck ass poser, a shadow of my former creative juggernaut. This helps. Oh yes.