laughter followed by introspection

the other night my mom was over for dinner, and she and p and me and wife are hanging round the table and sharing stories, and my mom tells some story in which she used the word "cock". yes, cock.

i don't remember much about the story cause i was so busy choking back the laughter. this is the first time i have heard my mother use the word cock, and while none of us are prudes, it was just a smidge weird.

so she finishes her story, and some time passes, and i say, "i'm still just wigged out to have heard my mother say 'cock'."

i stand up to place my glass on the counter. p and wife are chuckling. in the split second it takes all of us to do this, my mother says, "well, what did you want me to say, 'dick'?"

i am on the floor. wife is crying and snorting. p is all teeth and squeezed-shut eyes. mom is rolling and dabbing at her eyes.

we play some card games and mom goes home. wife says, "i think your mom really needed that. it is the first time she's really cut loose since lloyd died."

and for some reason that gets me to thinking. i spent a week after the lloyd blog bawling at the drop of a hat. for my own father, i only cried at the funeral. wherein lies the difference?

and i think it is the kids. i hate to say it, but so much of what i feel is a reflection of what i see in their eyes. my father passed before either of them were born. i believe he has seen them, and thinks they are lovely, but they don't know him. they got to hang out with lloyd, who i may not have hand-picked as the grandfather of choice, but then again, he was pretty fucking good with them. i've also spent countless hours and days and weeks being confused or agonized by my relationship with my father, even before he passed, and i think that train had left the station.

lloyd, on the other hand, was still a friend, and we had been there alot at the end.

and again i hope i can be the kind of dad my kids feel they know. the kind of dad that they can talk to about whatever thing is going on in their life, even if they feel i might disapprove, or that it might be wrong. the kind of dad who is always there, and can always be counted on.

and in my last post, credit for "dicey" goes to c (now you're famous) and credit for the "whom" statement goes to sj. changing the world one word at a time.

darth sardonic

stuff

boy, feb was a rough month for the sardonic household, and mar isn't doing much better so far. there's times where i would love a vacation from myself.

i'm proud to be a father, and i love my kids, but get me in the right mood and i get to feeling like maybe the trust that the divine show-runner has in my parenting abilities has been slightly misplaced. it's such a huge responsibility, and i worry constantly i'll botch it up.

that's not intended to be a fish for compliments either. just the way it is.

friends come and go. occasionally, i wonder what has become of the ones who have moved on. not enough to go find em, but like a passing curiousity. is this just me, or does everyone do that?

i love coffee. coffee is good. i survive on a daily basis thanks to coffee. coffee coffee coffee.

wow, didn't have as much to say as i originally thought. maybe i'm getting writer's block. or writer's cramp. or maybe i'm just dull.

a few words we should attempt to include in our daily vernacular: hepcat (if talking about a female, use hepkitten instead), dicey, dull (it's just horribly underrated, the word dull), and whom. no one says whom anymore.

well then, my droogs and only friends, till the next time,

darth sardonic

a post for posting's sake

simply so i can say that i posted two days in a row: here it is.

i am in a weird mood today, as it turns out, and can't really even tack a label on why. upheaval delicately balanced with wit and laughter with friends seems to be the word of the day.

i broke a string on my bass the other day, and since have been playing it with only three strings. i break strings on my bass alot. most bass players don't but i seem to have a heavy-handed slap/pluck style, and am just hard on my basses in general. and why not? i refer to whatever bass i might be playing at any given moment as "my bitch", so i guess i oughtta rough em up a bit? who knows. but having only three strings on there reminds me of how much i play by feel. i end up playing a riff on the wrong string as a result of missing the bottom one. yeah, more strings are in the mail.

i actually have two days off in a row, and spent this one watching jarhead with me mates e and q, and my roomie (who has graciously replaced the bastard who shall heretofore be known as our awol drummer), a, and drinking some beautiful german alcohol that gives me a great buzz without any of the harshness usually associated with buzzing. i am, quite literally, happily buzzed in a completely aware and sharp kind of way. those germans sure do know how to make alcohol. and lloyd, if you're out there and can hear me, you sure know how to pick it. this one's for you.

i wasn't really going anywhere with any of this (but, then again, when am i ever, right, o my little droogies?), just kinda letting whatever flow, and so far it's sucking, yeah? i mean, you don't have to sugar-coat it kids, this particular blog is uninspired in the worst way.

but i did post two days in a row!

until next time, hepcats and kittens,

darth sardonic

wisdom or good looks...?

not that that has shite to do with shite, but, hey, since when have i been the kinda fella to write stuff that has anything to do with anything, right?

got home from work, early for once, and lo and behold, my wife is completely sacked out. she's been not feeling well lately, so i guess i'll let her. hanging with my bud e, and reviewing this sad little site that i pretend to maintain, though lately it is more maintenance through neglect. a big apology to those that still keep up with this shitty little corner of cyberspace.

and i don't really have a ton of shit to say today, cept that i am still here, and still think about you, my droogs and only friends, and that my free time has just become swallowed up with other things.

some tidbits of wisdom: (and no, don't fucking ask me for the background stories, they would take too long and i've told em too many times already) 1) do not loan cars with tranny problems to so-called friends, no matter whether they're gonna buy em or not, unless you want to dip into your tattoo fund to pay for impound fees. and 2), if drummers from georgia tell you that yeah, they are good for a part of the rent, and really committed to the band, tell em to sod off.

and on that note kids, i gotta go leave mother hoodlum a note of sympathy and support, and pick my nose.

darth sardonic