I have to wonder if my kids really understand that their Father…is a whack job.
Wouldn’t it just piss some people off if by some quirk, Hillary ended up getting the Demcratic nomination?
I mean, wayyyy too many folks are already talking that Obama is the one.
It makes me crazy when you try to play mind games with me. You have no idea how ignorant that makes you look, when I turn them back on your. Every time. And it is because you just are not as smart as I am. And take your check list with you.
Why is it that when I am at the edge looking over and planning that last step over, James Taylor can always bring me back. And that is disturbing due to the fact that I was listening to Linkin Park just before.
Uppmann camaroons are a relaxant on the drive home. Wonder what kind Tony Soprano smokes?
Both MLW and The Princess have Ipods. MlW has the Shuffle, and The Princess has a Nano.
Both of them love me dearly, and don’t want me to feel left out, so they are trying to convince me to buy my own Ipod.
You see, I have an hours commute both ways to and from work. And hour there, and hour back. Two hours worth of driving, and the radio stations are enough to make me want to gouge my eyeballs out on a good day. I am also not sold as of yet on Sirius, though I have friends who love it.
More on that later.
I am on the fence with the whole Ipod thing. But I like to jump around too much in my tastes. What I want to listen to now, may not be what I want to listen to later. And then there is the whole backing up of the music that you bought in that one chance your hard drive on your computer dies. Then were are you? With nothing.
And I bought a smokin’ cd player for the truck last summer. It has a Ipod dock, but….
So you see my dilemma.
What do you think? For those of you who have Ipods, let me know the bennies. For those of you who think that it is a waste of money, chime in and appeal to the cheap bastard that resides in my wallet.
MLW has great taste in music. Eclectic, and right on target. She is the one who got me interested in Richard Thompson, Patty Griffin, and countless others.
Singer song writers are where it is all at. I was listening to Patty Griffin last night coming home from work. Other Voices, Other Rooms was the CD. I describes my life before meeting MLW. Says all of the things that I would say to describe those times, if I wanted to put the words together. But my words are too close to me and that time. I would have to get more distance than 12 years could give me.
So I listen to Patty Griffin, and remember what it was like before I was given the lifeline MLW gave.
Just got a text from the younges son wanting to know if he can come here for his birthday.
Not wanting to scare him away, I said sure without any jumping up and down. Loud noises scare kids away like wild animals after they get to a certain age. You have to kind of sneak up on them.
After the call, I started thinking about why he would have to ask. But, his Mom and I have been divorced since ’95, so I guess from his point he can’t just assume that he is welcome whenever for however long. But he is, along with his brother, and his older sister. Split homes suck. For a lot of reasons. This song by Keb’ Mo’ always makes me think of my kids and how they have had to make their own way.
Kids need grounding no matter how young or old they are. Think about it.
I was telling their guitarist, John, that I thought that their sound was very reminiscent of Linkn Park while we were drinking beers this evening. He didn’t disagree too much, though I shouldn’t have tried to categorize his music like that. The band can also be found of their MySpace page at:
Growing up my musical tastes were influenced greatly by my older brothers. A lot of early 60′s British Invasion, Motown, and then in the 70′s CSN&Y. I was majorly influenced by Neil Young. His sound, the words he put together, the way he played his guitar.
I wanted to be Neil Young.
But I was just this fat kid from Keeler, Michigan so I did the next best thing. I learned every freaking Neil Yound song that I could and played the hell out of that $25 guitar that I got for christmas.
And tried to impress the girls. It didn’t happen the way that I thought it would. Though I did impress myself.
Don’t know which one was more important. Cortez the Killer is the song that got me kicked off of college radio. I looped it for a couple of hours while I got high in the control room. It was late at night and I didn’t think that anyone would care.
I am trying to embed it here so that it can be shared with my hundreds of readers. You deserve that much from me.
I have way too much time to think on my way to and from work. I have an hour commute. I try to listen to music to drown out the voices in my head, but it doesn’t always work.
Now, let us be clear here. We all have voices that talk to us in our heads. Our conscience, our thoughts, our guilt. We all hear things going on in our heads. Me, I just have a few more than most. So I am not that crazy. Though I am a little left of center. I will admit to that.
Anyway. I was thinking of my Father coming home tonight. My Dad passed in 1996. November to be exact. He had been sick since November of 1995, and had lingered until November of ’96. I got the phone call telling me to come home, that he was not going to last. I was living in Columbus, Ohio at the time. Mom and Dad were living in Dowagiac, Michigan.
Unfortunately, Dad passed before I got home. I got a phone call while on the highway to slow down, that he had already passed. I can’t describe what went through my head at that moment. This man that I had wanted to make proud one time, had gone and I would never have the opportunity ever again. This man, who I ran away from all of my life because I never felt that I measured up to his standards, was gone and I would never have the chance again to make him think that I was worthwhile.
I was thinking about that tonight driving home. My kids are strewn about the country. Two out in Arizona, and one in the Detroit area. I wonder if they ever questions whether I am proud of them, or if they even care. I try to tell them, when we talk, how much I love them. I didn’t get that from my Parents as much as I would have wanted. Maybe I tell my kids too much now. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything to them.
But I wonder. Do they think of their Father as someone they can come to? For anything? What do they think of me? I just don’t know.
The Knob Creek is kicking in. Work tomorrow. Gotta scoot.