for me to come home and not have my mood sour. I have talked to several friends of mine who have aging parents about parents aging and it is NEVER easy for a child…and grandchildren…to see their elders get older. It’s tough. As I have mentioned before, it is tougher than taking care of children, when they are little. There’s no “one size fits all” way of handling this shit, man. It’s hard.
I lost an aunt & an uncle. In the last few weeks. I had NO IDEA. No one fucking told me. My uncle was my father’s baby bro. There was only three of them and now, my dad’s sister is the only one left. She is the middle child. This is very, VERY disturbing to me. My mother *thought* she had told me, but she didn’t. I’m sure family was talking about it on Facebook, but I’m not on fucking Facebook. I’m sad now. Not angry, but I *am* stewing. And right on cue, here comes that cough. If I had MY way, I’d pull up every fucking inch of carpet in this house and replace it with hardwood flooring. BUT…it’s not my house. So…
And I am sure that mom really did think that she told me my uncle had passed. But, she didn’t. He was the only one who knew how to get to the ruins of my grandmother’s house. Now, he’s gone. Just like the old road that connected her house to the nearest paved road. I already had to go down there THIS SUMMER, anyway, so, yea. Fuck, man.
Now Playing: Exile – Kiss You All Over
There are certain things that are really starting to fucking irk me. I know that I am a softy BUT tend to do some knee jerky type shit, so now, I try to chill and put myself in other people’s shoes more because I fear that as I get older, well… I think that I am becoming more of an asshole as I get up there in age. So, I’m trying not to just block people right off the bat. As many of you know, I have a new phone number. I have become very selective as to WHO I share that number with, but, I still fear that there might be a *few* people that have my number that I would rather them NOT have my number. [clears my throat]
My hillbilly-ass local liquor store here in The Jungle doesn’t carry “Not Your Mother’s Apple Pie.” Get my muthafuckin’ ass back to Sin City, I need to get the holy fucks outta town SOONER than *later*, jeez. I was going to lecture the guy at the store, but he’s a snarky piney and I’m 100% sure that he would not give a fuck because the store caters to a more “humble” clientele and I’m just a guy who comes through ever few weeks for a couple of bottles of Yellowtail and an occasional corkscrew, due to the fact that there’s a gremlin in my mom’s house that survives by eating corkscrews. [clears my throat] Fuck, man. It’s 90+ degrees and god awful fuckin’ humid here, Jesus.
I was going to head to the city Weds morn, but I may leave tomorrow night, instead. I don’t fucking know. 30-something year old me was too good to live in Queens because it was “too far away from everything” but now 50 year old me is like “Muthafucker.” If I could build a time machine and go back and I HATE HAVING REGRETS!!! But, I guess, we ALL have them. I just have to try to NOT dwell on mine and let them consume me. I can’t let what I could have/should have done stop me from reaching the goals that I am setting for the near future. Life.
[clears my throat]
I go into some of these things thinking: Keep it short. But, here I am, ranting. God, flying off the muthafuckin’ handle about shit that I can’t change. I CAN NOT CHANGE some of the shit that I bitch about. I can only react and comment. And you know? I’m done. Not gonna stew and sour. Listen: Give your mom a hug. Give your dad a hug. I’m in this hot ass house, right now. My mom is asleep. When she wakes up? I think I’ll give her a hug. On second thought? No. It will probably freak her out. BUT, if YOUR mom is a huggin’ type, then, go ahead and give her a hug! LOL!!!
I’m out. Gonna pour myself a drink. I need a drink. I *deserve* a drink.