Case in point, the other night, I was rapping with Mr. Z before he went to sleep and he pointed out this little face that he liked to look at on his ceiling. Now, we have these 80s, whipped-cream-style ceilings, with all this swirly, prickly plaster shit sticking out from them.
It's ugly as shit and if you were to accidentally brush a part of your body across it, you'd look as though you'd have been mauled by a puma. But, if you're a seven-year-old falling asleep, it's great for staring at and finding faces.
So, I lie back on the pillow and Mr. Z points out the face -- he says it reminds him of "Roo" from the Winnie-the-Pooh stories:
Well, I thought it was fucking hilarious because it actually did look like Roo. A lot. He said he liked to look at it as he was falling asleep because it was "cute" and it made him feel happy. Which is so fucking insane because I totally did the same exact shit when I was his age. I'd look for faces in the ceiling, in the knots on the 70s paneling in my room, in the carpet, in the scabs on my... knees. How fucked up is that?!
I mean, it's not like I taught that shit to him -- it was encoded somewhere in my moronic dna and, through the miracle of science, he's now doing the same bizarre, self-soothing nighttime ritual that I did 34 years ago! Holy fuck, could I use a bong right about now.
It's incredible that he exhibits these strange little behaviors from my childhood, but when I actually think about it and start extrapolating a few years -- well, frankly, I get pretty freaked out. What other freakish/misguided/just-plain-wrong behaviors of mine are going to start popping up?! Is he going to lie awake in bed every night obsessing about death? (Too late.) Is he going to start burning ant hills and caterpillars with a magnifying glass all summer long? Is his fourth grade teacher going to say, during the parent/teacher conference, "Mr. Z thinks he's a very funny boy, and sometimes he is. And sometimes... he isn't." Is he going to burst into tears on the playground every time someone steals his hat? Is he going to start smoking bowls in the back of the Schwinn shop in town with Jim Fitzgerald when he's 13? Is he going to be the head of "Students Against Drunk Driving" and plan a non-alcoholic party and then blow off said party, get wasted, pass out, and have his friends drop him off at home unconscious, ring the doorbell and drive away?! Is he going to going to become so isolated and friendless as an adult that he is forced to sit in his basement, late at night, vomiting out meaningless prattle into a blog, hoping that maybe someone, somewhere might read it and comment on it, and that will be the closest thing he'll have had to an actual friend in years?!?! [Wait... was that last part out loud?]
Shit, I hope the old lady's genes kick in soon, or the dude is fucked.
7 comments:
It's not every day I get to fulfill someone's dream. Consider me the Make-a-Wish foundation for the socially terminal.
Excellent, Not Chris. Mr. Z's future is in your hands. And me? I'd like a pony.
To answer these otherwise rhetorical questions: Yes, absolutely, totally, of course, probably, yes, and quite possibly. But, then again, he HAS to do those things, so that WHEN he does those things, you'll be like, 'Hey dude, I did that, too, when I was your age.' Then he'll tell you to fuck off, complain that no one understands him, and eventually graduate from high school. Vicious? Dunno. But definitely cyclical. ...so, uh, good luck with that.
Magic 8-ball -- I was hoping for more of an "Answer hazy, try again later" response. Would've made me feel less doomed.
Sorry, Crabbydad. I've done my work. You wanted a comment, you got it.
Mr. Z will have to find his own bizarre, pseudo-affirmations.
Don't you remember when you were a boy, all the times that your dad wanted to keep you from making the same mistakes he did? Of course you don't! You (like me and all of us) were too busy thinking you were the only person in the world. To stop that from happening to Mr. Z is to rid humanity from Teen-Angst... and well, that would ruin Punk Rock as we know it. And you don't want that, do you? Be glad he's imaginative, and that he's got a kickass dad who loves him (and always tell him that, even when he tells you to go to hell). In other words, "Answer hazy, I'm too stoned to know what the hell's going on... and too pissed to care." Then again... what the hell do I know... I'm just a plastic ball with a 13-sided die floating in my gut.
dud, i am learning so much about you! anyway - re: comments about Mr. Z and his future - we all went through that stuff and i'd like to think we all turned out ok. even better than ok. i've seen you in action as a dad ("zeke - what do we say after we burp?" - which of course made me laugh because clearly zeke has no idea his dad can burp the entire fucking alphabet) and i was and am very very impressed. the boy will find his way, on his own. you provide him with basic tools - genetically or otherwise - and his first joint, when appropriate. the rest is outta your hands.
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