dads birthday.

Why do people have bad childhoods? Why are people so concerned with the moment? Is life as a whole not just an elongated era. Actually I am wrong, era simply means ‘significant piece of time’. Therefore, an era is precisely what life is! Why must one fragment it into such pessimistic terms? When one studies art, one quickly learns that to mix all colours together, one will always get a muddy near black shade. So it is subjective to what is better really. Acknowledging subtle differences in shade, or realising that all together, it’s all pretty much the same. What I mean by this is both one can scrutinize, and occupy ones time with the details, or just throw caution to the wind, and throw every shade into one another, without too much concern, we are all very aware of the eventual outcome. Simplicity or complexity? Colourful or neutral? I can presume you know what I am getting at.

Regardless, today is my fathers’ birthday. He would be 50 I think. It’s of no consequence really. I shouldn’t worry about something that would be a passing affair if he was still here. It’s just respectful to acknowledge. We would be sharing a milestone this year. With him becoming half a century old, and I twenty one. I did write an entry in my diary last year, and I can’t find the energy in me to surpass it’s wording this year. So I shall just put that below. The final thing I do wish to say is that I have no time for people with obesity, or eating problems. Cold I know. However why would someone who is fortunate enough to have two hands, two feet, both eyes, and hearing, let themselves disrespect the privilege of being alive. We have so much time to spend when we are old, in front of the television, or just plain pottering about. Though don’t for a second think that some older people don’t dream of just being able to walk up one more small mountain, walk up the escalators on the underground, arm wrestle with the confidence that they'll surely win, climb a ladder to fix the roof slates, or open a fucking jar. Because believe me you will reach a time when you’re fortunate to be able to even do that. Time will conveniently take away your capabilities, so for crying out loud don’t do it to yourself. Imagine, your body is supposed to last you 80 years. That’s an awfully long time. It’s also an awfully unobtainable age if you spend the beginning duration eating shit food, succumbing to addictions, and depriving, or gluttonising your body. So yes anyway, that’s why I have not patience for those two conditions.

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Happy Birthday Dad.

“For the life you gave me. The lives I would die for. My sisters, my brother, my nephew, my reasons. The Tramp stories. Keeping away the boys. Holding me.Warming the cream between your hands, before soothing my scars. Never holding me back (too much). Fixing my bike. Working so hard. Smelling of dust, and tar. Play fighting. Confiding in me. Drying my hair. Trying to brush it! Taking me out of school to drink cappuccinos. I would eat the foam, and you would drink the coffee. Then we would travel back, and I would look out of the windows. When I came to work with you, we’d have to get up early, and you had no idea what girls should look like! Talking in your sleep. Letting my friends sleep over. Buying me sweets. Letting us camp in the garden, and build dens in the house. I love you so much. Thank you. ”