Little m Long a

No, this post is not about Pink Floyd or their 1987 post Roger Waters album A Momentary Lapse of Reason.  I do own that one though and despite what the critics say think it was a pretty good one.  You see, Roger Waters left the band in 1985 stating that creatively the unit had run it’s course.  He officially declared the band defunct.  Guitarist David Gilmour and drummer Nick Mason had other notions.  They re-entered the recording studio in 1986 to work on a new project despite opposition from Waters over the use of the name Pink Floyd.  Although legal stuff ensued with name calling, mudslinging and regrets over being mean to each other (this part is not really true, there are no regrets) several months into 1987 Gilmour and Mason released, as Pink Floyd, A Momentary Lapse of Reason sans Roger or any of his influences.  Bands do this.  They fight amongst themselves and display what can only be described as poor interpersonal communication skills.  Members quit when they feel that their personal creative genius is under appreciated by their band mates or are booted from the band when the other members feel that their behavior is not nice, that their super inflated distorted self-worth has clearly affected their ability to be a cooperative and contributing member of the band.  Floyd had done this a mere 20 years earlier when they booted Syd Barrett, the founding member, from the band because of his increasingly erratic behavior secondary to his addictions.  But again I say, this is not about Pink Floyd.

For reasons I have yet to discern, my good friend James over at Quirkee.com has offered me the opportunity to post there as a guest columnist.  Quirkee.com ….is an award winning humor and online publication, a collective of writers, artists, photographers, and all-around quirky personalities. If nothing else, we hope Quirkee.com brings a little light into your otherwise hopeless and repetitive existence…..  I have sent you to this site in the past.  You may recall that James, again for reasons I have yet to discern, chose me as one of the subjects for his series of interviews with fathers who have given up the rat race to chase rug rats.  In case you missed it or need to refresh your memory you can find the interview here.  When James approached me with the idea of posting more regularly on their site my initial reaction was, “You have got to be kidding me!  Have you lost your mind?”  Actually, I told him I’d be honored.  I consider it the highest of compliments.  For the life of me, I don’t know what took him so long to ask but I’m not here to quibble.

So there you have it.  I’ve branched out, extended myself.  I’m growing.  It would by all indices appear that James, Scott and the cohorts at Quirkee have had a grossly inopportune loss of their faculties as evidenced by their offer to me.  Never let it be said that I refused to take advantage of another person’s lack of good judgment accept a good opportunity when one presents itself.  Check out my new column, World-Colored Glasses at Quirkee.com.  Then stick around to check out some of the other great writers and blogs on the site and be sure to come back and let me know what you think.  Oh, and don’t forget to feed the cat.

She’s asleep now, a pattern of slow rhythmic inhalations and exhalations intermittently disrupted with a soft sniffle.  She’s already forgotten the reasons she started crying those memories having vanished with hugs and I’m sorrys.  She’s resting .  At peace.  So why aren’t  I?  Why do I find it so difficult to forget, to forgive to start anew?  My stomach aches, my head hurts, my heart beats heavy and I torment myself with disparaging analysis of my own worth.   I have failed her.  I’ve failed them all.  I’ve failed myself.  My execrable behavior has left me demoralized, ashamed.  She’ll wake up tomorrow joyous, excited to start another day.  Carefree and happy.  I’ll rise apprehensive, still doubting.  Anxious to prove that I can be better.  That I am better.

It doesn’t matter what happened or why.  That is past.  What matters is that there are never good excuses for bad behavior.

Drink, customarily my deliverance, is past as is the majority of my debasement.   I’ve nowhere to turn.  Although addicting and somewhat soothing, I scarcely consider Java Chip Frappuccino intoxicating or for that matter, escape.  And proclaiming, “I’ll take a Grande Java Chip Frappuccino with 2 extra shots of espresso, whole milk and yes—I want whipped cream on that” doesn’t quite seem to convey your total self loathing and utter frustration quite like, “Holy F***!  I need a drink!”  That, and the fact that there’s Grey Goose in the cabinet, not Starbuck’s.

It beckons.  Softly.  Silently.  The voice of an old friend.  Like a lover.  At times it screams loudly.  Taunting.  Daring.  Like a lover.  Either way, the voices are omnipresent.  My will is tattered, beaten down and  San Pelligrino doesn’t burn like vodka did.

Last week’s initial offering of Story Time with Zoë was a resounding success.  Dr. Seuss is an all-time favorite of mine and Green Eggs and Ham still ranks as one of my top choices.  All of my kids seem to like his works and I find that the rhyming and meter of his stories lends itself to not only an engaging active listen but also encouraging early reading.  It helps that the stories are fun, timeless and bring to mind some of my most fond childhood memories.  We could read a Seuss book every day and scarcely grow tired of the story.  It is pure joy to be able to pass that on to my children.

This week’s story also reminds me of my youth, of times when what was going on in the world around me didn’t matter because there was a little place nothing short of utopia deep within the heart of the city.  A place where I could lose myself and become a part of someone else’s wonderful world learning to read, count and bang a drum like an animal.   Wait, animal was a Muppet.  Anyway, I’m talking about Sesame Street.  Good times!  (Disclaimer:  I find it very difficult to watch Sesame Street as an adult.  That fuzzy red guy’s voice is like fingers on a chalk board and just the thought of having to sit through an episode today makes me long for a pile of laundry or a trip to the dentist.)  That being said, kids love Sesame Street!  And, this is Story Time with Zoë not Story Time with the Cynic That is Zoë’s Dad.  She gets to pick the books, not me.

This week’s edition of Story Time with Zoë is from the Sesame Street collection of stories, It’s Not Easy Being Big, a story about how Bird Bird finds out that sometimes being big is not as easy as one would expect.  Sorry, Darren.  Zia wasn’t finished with our only copy of Huck Finn and wasn’t willing to share.  We’ll work on Huck–and sharing a little bit later.

So there you have it, this week’s story.  I hope you enjoyed it.  I know Zoë enjoys reading them!  If you missed last week’s story check it out here.

Five minutes, maybe longer.  That’s all I took, honest.  After breakfast this morning I took just a short constitutional to the family library.  Don’t be impressed.  Remember the little hovel of a bedroom that Harry Potter had under the staircase in his uncle’s house?  Yeah, think that but smaller.  It’s got a light, a lavatory and a seat that is quite comfortable and best of all the door locks.  It’s one of the few locking doors in the house.  This morning’s read, a magazine or sales flyer, back of a tissue box, whatever else may be within arms reach and a cup of coffee.  Five minutes.  Then I would be off to the tasks of the day.  My list was quite extensive and there would be little time for dilly dally.

The twins, had other plans.

This was not on my list today.  Are they trying to tell me something?

In other news….The Lenten Season begins tomorrow.  Ash Wednesday.  As is tradition in the Catholic faith, or so I’m told, Lent represents the 40 day liturgical season of fasting and prayer before Easter the purpose being preparation through prayer, penitence, alms giving and self denial.  It represents the 40 days that Christ spent alone in the desert fasting, praying and enduring the temptations of the devil.  Throughout history the season of Lent has been one of tightly held traditions.  For the non-Catholic I’m sure it brings to mind little more than the phrase, “So, what are you giving up for Lent?”, the exact question I posed to my children this afternoon.

Zoë, after giving the matter considerable thought decided to give up candy and sweets.  More discussion among the kids and Zane eventually relented. 

“OK.  I’ll give up candy, too”, he said.

“So, Zia.  What are you going to give up for Lent?” I asked.

(Long pause.)

“I’m going to give up…….

TOOTHPASTE.”

It’s going to be a long 40 days.