Friday, November 17, 2017

Sweet Home Waukegan



(Alfred Wertheimer)


We leave early this morning for Illinois. There is a memorial service for Rachel's father. I'm hoping that it will be like a birthday party for someone in absentia. That is my wish for him, anyway. 

His name was Preston. Rachel and I put together a playlist for the after-thing that people go to on these occasions. It has been a genuine joy to do so - lots of my favorite old rock tunes in a context in which I can be unashamed in playing them. 

All one needs in this age, it seems, is an excuse to indulge your passions. That, and consent from someone out there in the vast universe. 

I have petitioned to have the above picture removed from the internet. We have no way of knowing if that is a consensual hug that we're seeing or not. 

Elvis, of course, will need to go. 

How can history possibly allow a nostalgic smile for one as flawed as he. 



Last night, Rhys and I were playing hide and seek around the house. I turned off the light in my bedroom and hid in the closet. He stepped into the room cautiously where I could just barely see him through the door crack. I jumped out of the closet and growled or howled or something meant to add to the surprise. This was a bad idea. I had never seen him so filled with immediate terror and fear. I caught up to him in the living room, crying on the couch, kicking me and all other phantoms away in oversized fear.

I felt terrible, of course. I hugged him and told him that I thought he would laugh, that it was my mistake. There are no demons named Daddy hiding. Don't worry son - there is no evil, only confusion and ignorance to be battled. 

Love was not quite enough. It took a few minutes for him to return from this place of terror.


Due to the sensitive and embarrassing nature of this recent revelation I've decided to step down from my position at my current job and announce my official retirement from public life and parenting. My family would appreciate it if you would please respect our privacy as we come to terms with this awful thing that I have done. 

We are going to each seek solace in the loving arms of Morphine Jesus. 





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