Jamison’s

Hope I didn’t catch you dozing on me…the demands of life in general aren’t the kind of devil grease splatters one can simply pour water over or ignore, so the ‘blog’ takes a backseat to the slumber-sucking reality of this bullshit life of treadmill achievement on a day to day basis, with this feeling like a dolphin snapping up tiny fish from the hand of some lithium-head ordering up all these tricks, never enough for a smile, until I once again realize the one thing that’s been missing in my life lately is right down the street. Why not? As for school, I tend to keep attention easier after a couple swigs, and ever since I was an Army private it’s been routine to down 2-3 glasses of water before heading up to bed. The next morning I focus on the teeth, bowl, boys, diapers, breakfast AND THEN it comes time for the coffee and sip sip reminds me I’m in the midst of minds twice the speed of my own and at least ten times as powerful. Like my stupid hands typing on this keyboard, Max and Sam can bust up on Swearengen without words even. A paid listener would call that paranoia, but I’m not taking advice in March from anyone unless they’ve got something more powerfull than a .22 pointing at my head.

As for the boys, my game centers around this constant dialog, with questions and statements, most they’ve heard a thousand times already, but to me it means something deeper, because the simplicity of this head I’m using is so boring to these guys already that the most enjoyable game is to bust on the whole scene, crack on papa and not care if he knows it or not. I understand everything, and play right into their hands by letting them know, which can lead to a roll of the eyes or something like “yeaaaa…yeaaaa”, though Sam in particular has a certain talent for rubbing it in, a different way each day. Taking it all in stride, I embrace my geek days in school, head booted a few times and a Nike swoosh imprinted on my cheek for a couple days…in a way it’s my way of laughing at all those fools and at God and at the stupid country in general and at my bowl of corn pops, because here is a situation where these sons of mine exist with cranky old Al in this fishbowl every day and when they realize I’m full of shit or are just sick of my voice, they let me know and it makes me laugh, with this warm feeling inside like an endless mug of hot cocoa.

They’ve got a sense of humor. I’m the butt of every joke, but because I encourage it, we’re all in this state of discovery. Momma comes home and the game continues, in a different way…when there’s someone else around I suddenly feel self-conscious, but once she’s laughing about it as well, there’s this calm that comes over me, like for the first time in my life there are people everywhere who understand me…and understand that part of my being who I am is the charity they’re enjoying, which constitutes a small portion of the laughter taking place in this house everyday, as for most of the years I’ve been on this earth, the number one thing I longed for most was the freedom to be stupid and appreciated for it. I think that Max and Sam can be stupid and funny without feeling bad or self-conscious, and that will help ‘yall to fare better when they take over the world.

I’m doing this for mankind, and enjoying myself through them enjoying myself.

F Jackie!