Stream of Consciousness: Daughters

We went outside today. It hadn’t been so beautiful in so long. With messy ponytails and pajama pants, we traipsed around the acres I myself grew up exploring. Well, they traipsed. I sat and watched. I look at them, these beautiful things, so solid in our universe, and the days before their existence is blurry. They step on bugs and pluck dandelions from the dry grass, so confident that they belong just where they are, not yet troubled by anything of consequence… completely unmarred by life. As the sun shines down on them, their bodies cast elongated shadows on …

“She’d be DECIMATED.”

I appreciate it when people don’t sugarcoat parenting, or act like children are the holy grail and people aren’t allowed to call them on their bullshit. Sometimes, they are little fucking assholes and you want to kick them out of windows. It’s just the truth. I love my daughters, but sometimes I really do not like them. At all. And if you’re a parent and honest with yourself, I think it’s probably the same for you. I’ve yet to meet anyone that wasn’t delusional that didn’t nod yes to that statement. I like this guy. I’m going to see …

If opposites attract, I must be the absolute nicest person on the planet.

What the hell?! The other night, Joey and I went to see Modest Mouse. Show started at 9pm, we got there pretty early, and got a good spot, behind the railing that separated the floor from the people down there in the little…pit? I dunno. There were a couple of girls in front of us, and we weren’t all shoved up on them because I believe in respecting personal space. And it was hot enough. Shit. Anyway, as the show went on, things got more crowded, but it was fine. Once, two girls moved in front of us and …