Books, Bokes, Boobs and DEATHMETAL \m/ (oo)\m/
Well today I rode my bike from Norwood to Cabridge (17-18 miles of deadly hills) to chill with dad at MIT. My grandfather (who will be turning 96 this december) hasn't been feeling good lately and if there is any chnage in the way he does things it instantly becomes a fore-shadower of his death to my family. I still am sick so I was surpirsed that I could do the intense ride, I stopped more often than I usually do but all-in-all I was fine. I've been reading my former Sophomore year English teacher's books lately "Losing my Faculties" and "It Takes a Worried Man," th eformer I finished last week in which he writes aout his first 8 or so years of teahcing, the latter his first book, is about his emotions and thoughts during his late-wife's chemotherapy. "Losing my Faculties" actually ends with him getting ready to teach at my school and today while I caught "the OH in Ohio" they used my high school as an establishing shot for one of the character's High Schools where they teach. It was a bizarre moment. This isn't the first time I've seen my school, a WB show about a kid going back to his freshman year, in Newton,MA in the 80s used my school for establishers too.
It's rough reading "It Takes a Worried Man," now because ultimately my junior year Mr. Halpin left y school an dI believe teaching when his wife died. Not only that I am (and this is no way similar to his situation) faced with losing yet another grandparent that I hardly knew. I felt that my grandmother died thinking I was a good-for-nothing little shit. My other grandfather died with me really having talked to him maybe a few times. Now I have this incredibly wise man with this great life who has lived with me for 5 years and who I really don't converse with. I mean, you go up to an old man you're related to and say, "Hey grandpa, tell me everything you've learned in life." It's fucking hard to do. I mean I've tried a few times, but he talks to you sort of like a retarded 7 year old. I asked him some in depth questions about The War, and he opened with, "Well there was this guy Hitler, see." and I'm sitting there trying not to be too sarcastic and snotty saying, "Yeah really, a guy named Hitler huh? Yeah I'm sure I've never heard the most infamous name in modern history." He did tell me that it is very important who you marry though. I don't know, life isn't the movies, Grandpa doesn't drop pearls of wisedom like a fortune cookie he just does his thing--and I'm a shitty self-absorbed pussy.
I'm downloading an absurd amount of musi people yousendit-ed me. And I just canceled an album I had d/led at 99% because i'm retarted. I'm not on my computer and these little speakers make a weird feedback thing go on in my ears. Listening to like grindy,noisy shit is not awesome with this effect.
I need to get laid...
It's rough reading "It Takes a Worried Man," now because ultimately my junior year Mr. Halpin left y school an dI believe teaching when his wife died. Not only that I am (and this is no way similar to his situation) faced with losing yet another grandparent that I hardly knew. I felt that my grandmother died thinking I was a good-for-nothing little shit. My other grandfather died with me really having talked to him maybe a few times. Now I have this incredibly wise man with this great life who has lived with me for 5 years and who I really don't converse with. I mean, you go up to an old man you're related to and say, "Hey grandpa, tell me everything you've learned in life." It's fucking hard to do. I mean I've tried a few times, but he talks to you sort of like a retarded 7 year old. I asked him some in depth questions about The War, and he opened with, "Well there was this guy Hitler, see." and I'm sitting there trying not to be too sarcastic and snotty saying, "Yeah really, a guy named Hitler huh? Yeah I'm sure I've never heard the most infamous name in modern history." He did tell me that it is very important who you marry though. I don't know, life isn't the movies, Grandpa doesn't drop pearls of wisedom like a fortune cookie he just does his thing--and I'm a shitty self-absorbed pussy.
I'm downloading an absurd amount of musi people yousendit-ed me. And I just canceled an album I had d/led at 99% because i'm retarted. I'm not on my computer and these little speakers make a weird feedback thing go on in my ears. Listening to like grindy,noisy shit is not awesome with this effect.
I need to get laid...
posted by ESN-TNS at 11:54 PM
5 Comments:
amen bro! (re: your last sentence).
and...pops is right when talking about WHO you marry.
the rest of the stuff?
chalk it up to different generational gaps.
it's how it is.
get well soon, ya behemoth of a man ya.
good job on the bike tip. sweat that shit out of you.
it's what i do.
only, i use gin.
rum is shite--too sweet, my man.
and this is a first; being figuratively called a pussy for drinking straight gin.
ye young shites ye.
look around at your mates.
drinking flavoured vodka and downing shots of crappy liquour.
there were nights when we'd have nothing, and so we'd break out the rubbing alcohol bottle.
Word.
I suspect that men of that generation (WWII) weren't good communicators in general. both my grandfathers were like that. Stoic, not willing to discuss anything really meaningful- and kind of boring to be around unless we were doing something like fishing.
It still sucked to lose them, but it's a weird kind of relationship.
i agree with what you said slyboots but i couldn't really follow it becaus your picture looks like your giving a cat a facial, ewwwwwwww
Wax on, wax off. Grasshopper.
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