Maybe/Because

Maybe/Because

Though glimpsing your own truth seems a mighty tricky business, the silliness of starting a blog for redemption in an age where bazillions of blogs are ignored everyday has my scent all over it.

But one thing I know for sure, I am the king of the futile act. I’ve spent thousands of hours working on songs no one will ever hear. I’ve written novels that no one will ever read. So what’s one more self-centered project with a near certain patina of futility clinging to it?

Maybe it’s just that when you’ve succeeded at nothing, you grasp any hope of changing that dynamic and of looking at your reflection and saying – “ Oh yeah, I’m fat but when your fat and successful it’s sexy!”.

Maybe it’s because the kids moved away and will never return – though I’d have left our boring little town too – and I want them to be impressed and to understand that my selfishness did result in something worthy of a childhood spent putting up with me.

Maybe it’s because I wish I had given more to the kids.

Growing up the child of a failed pot-addled artist has its downsides. Like never having money for a real family vacation, or a great restaurant meal.

Maybe it’s because I did so many stupid things as a parent and I have no good way to apologize for my actions.

The epitome of my parental technique occurred about 25 years ago. I missed my daughter’s piano recital in the most self-centered way imaginable – after arriving early. When I read the program I found out my daughter’s recital would come after thirty other recitals performed by four to eight year olds gleefully torturing tempo and the melody. That’s a lot of forced clapping and smiling. I figured I could leave for a bit, drive around getting stoned and make it back with plenty of time to spare. First I have to admit, I arrived high and then left to get higher. Second, due to lots of practice I can smoke and drive because my knees are expert at steering.

I still remember running into the library as all the chattering parents and children were walking out. All the recitals over, my ex and my little girl waited with withering looks. I reeked of weed and missed opportunities, feeling sick and petty, knowing I’d butchered her first, and as it turned out only piano recital. Would my seven year old daughter have given up on the piano if I’d done the mature thing and stayed for all mind-numbing ninety second recitals performed by thirty other children?  Probably not, but that hasn’t stopped me, or her, from recalling the wound and flailing me with the tale of my own careless selfishness.

My intention with this project is to write as honestly as possible, while trying to be brutal only to myself. Hopefully I’ve reached that low bar.

Hopefully every once in a while someone will let me know that I wrote something interesting. It doesn’t even have to be a full piece, I’d take an interesting paragraph. Let’s be honest, producing a memorable phrase in a run-on sentence would make my day.

I’d feel tremendously accomplished if someone laughed while reading my take on the world. Yes, I’m that needy.

As you can no doubt diagnose already, I’ll delve into some personal baggage best left uncovered, cause if I expose some bone the post should at least reach interesting. But I’ll also explore politics, culture, sports and science. Religion bores me and I know nothing about the arts but that won’t keep me from those subjects too. That format should be free ranging enough to build absolutely no following in the narrow-cast culture we swim in, but this is my take on the world and I don’t care about what a good narrow-cast format would be. Whatever my “maybes” and “becauses” the goal remains producing something you, dear reader, would recommend because it made you pause, and could even say “It’s funny” too.