This Way To The Circus
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Our daughter is home. She is more beautiful and more truly a wild creature than I can keep in my head, that is, her physical presence obliterates the mental image I have of her, smashes it to pieces.
She has brought her friend Sky home with her for the week. As insulation from us on some level, but it will keep her happy.
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Last night was my mother's birthday/welcome home for Em party. Our friend Catherine showed up out of the blue looking for a place to crash, so there was a house full of people there. My brother and his wife and their two kids, Yolie and I and Em and her friend Sky, Mom and Jim...it was nice.
I have a very hard time at gatherings like that. I get uncomfortable and kind of withdraw from everything. My inner French Poodle becomes agitated.
It is very off-putting.
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Mardi Gras is coming up for San Luis Obispo. A couple of years ago we had a big riot, so once again we are all gearing up for a massive deployment. I'll be leading a company of twelve deputies for the weekend, only one group out of some three to four hundred cops that will be in the city.
It's usually a good time. We hang out with the college kids and have a blast, then if it gets ugly we start kicking ass. But mostly we just have a good time. Last year we played some ping-pong in a frat house for a while. Got our asses kicked.
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Lately all I want to do is my art. And meditate and do yoga. And lay on the sofa with my wife and the bulldog. Go for long, long, long walks.
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Is that so wrong?
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posted by tearful dishwasher at 5:00 AM
5 Comments:
So it's either you kick ass or you get your ass kicked, huh?
Well, in riots and ping-pong, yes.
I know it's my own prejudices, but it's so hard to wrap my head around the idea that the same guy who makes such delicate, dark pictures and poems also sometimes carries a billy club.
Christine-
But when I hit people I always read them a little poem right afterward. Usually something from Basho.
Ha!
I've got to go google "Basho" and "hitting" right now.
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