New coworker is so so so strange. My god he is strange. A genius no doubt. He’s so smart he has no time for silly nonsense things like shutting the bathroom door when taking a shit. Ever. He blogs and maybe twitters too about current events, has real things to say about it, and gets off on the public reaction. He’s always smiling too. He hasn’t learned we don’t do that here. To make it worse, he smiles at you while one eye is wandering. Creepy as fuck. And there’s somebody that actually loves all that strange awkward genius about him and wanted his babies. Weird.
You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you, Peter Pan. That’s where I’ll be waiting.
“
| — | Tinkerbell |
That’ll do thesaurus, that’ll do.
I just wanted another word for candy not sex games, but now I have no choice but to call it Patsy Play.
ME: Shit! We went to the gas station for gas and cigarettes. We left with cigarettes, red bull for jagger bombs, and no gas!
HIM: We just did this exact same thing a few nights ago.
ME: Well how dumb are we together?!
HIM: I’ve learned it’s not so much about lack of intelligence as sobriety.
ME: Clearly we have none of that…I saw that accidental side head butt with your window.
There’s always the sound of clicking in the back of my head, like a metronome, the thing used by musicians to help them keep a steady tempo and control rhythm while learning their instrument. Eventually they internalize a clear sense of timing and don’t need it anymore. Each click reminds me that eventually he won’t need me anymore either, and I never know which one is going to be the last. The thing about a love like that is every single time he walks through the door feels like a gift. Every. Single. Time. Every day I look in the mirror and wonder if this is the day he notices there’s more wrinkles now and decides to find someone his own age. But he keeps coming back. For two years he’s been giving me this gift. It’s been the craziest most incredible experience of my life. So when I watch him play, I always tap my fingers over my heart, like a metronome, so I can always remember how it feels.
Posts by my 19 year old son
I started saving things my boys say on FB in a draft on tumblr. These have been here for a while, but today when I read them all together I saw the most beautiful picture of my son:
“12 pack of bud light: 10 dollars. Pack of Marlboro lights: 5 dollars. Illegally purchasing the alcohol and a great night with friends: PRICELESS.”
“Let’s go do something spontaneous, something crazy. Let’s make a moment, a memory. Let’s have a night we will never regret, a night we’ll never forget.”
“Really wish I could take a week off and just sit down and write. That’s what I need right now.”
