Thursday, May 15, 2008

I’m, pretty inexcusably, playing (in snippets between the work gravity piling on my shoulders, inequitably, but I won't say which way, the mystery, it's a science, chuuuch) Super Mario Brothers online as the minutes tick down toward ultimate animalism on the jurk storr hour. Whoah! The jurk storr. That is something that (rightfully so) hasn’t reared its ugly head in, shit, eons. I’m also listening to Def Leppard, the greatest band ever, and someone once said that my utterage of that sentence takes away my right to ever discuss music again. It was funnier when he said it. He was some kind of misunderstood blog genius, lost to the ethers of the webs in such intricate fashion that I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for him.

Anyway, that’s not the point. My brother from another mother and his fair lady land on the island in about an hour & a half and I’m please as punch to get the chance to hang out with my oldest friend for a long weekend. The skunk works have already been informed (and not with extreme prejudice, it don’t have to be like that, even if I do finnegle lunches and tires) that I will not be on the premises tomorrow. Nay, I’ll be hanging with the fam & my buddy and his wife and bouncing my beautiful daughters on my knee and probably watching the lakeshow close out the jazzercise bunnies from mormonville. Not as zappin as if Elton and the clips were takin lunch money, but what can you do, dollars are not in fact donuts and the holes signify our struggles through life and the pondering of Grecian urns that listening to Joe Elliot’s sweet vocal chords combined with the dead haunted melodiously penned sounds of steamin steve clark force us to recognize and face undaunted from our innermost cavernous tabernacles their innermost beautiful yet terrifying truths, whatever they are for whoever you are.

My youngest took steps on her own for the first time the night before last, and it was pretty damn exciting. The older one got a little jealous so I held her tight and read her a story. Fatherhood is many things, my friend, but one thing it is not is overrated. Those moments, well, step up to a replication machine and replicate away, manufacture emotions at your emoticon café, and the shit don’t come close to the real dillio, that little person so enveloped within your world, that total reliance on you and conversely your total reliance on them, the need that you have, cloying at the dashboard at all hours, to do all you can for them, to grant them the happiness, the peace, the joy, and the regard for the world that in a perfect scenario you sometimes imagine having yourself.

I guess that’s about it. Enjoy the weekend, kiddies.