Lots of music bought recently, a lot of it starting to replace out cassettes (which we can't play cos a certain three year old has wrecked the cassette player) with CDs.
LOU REED
New York
Magic and Loss
JANE SIBERRY
When I was a Boy
THE BAND
Music From Big Pink
BOB DYLAN
World Gone Wrong
PAUL KELLY
Comedy
It's not that I haven't wanted to write. It's not that I haven't thought of writing. It's that I haven't had time to write. Which is an excuse of sorts. Damnit, which is an excuse fullstop. What I do here, what I want to do here, is more important than the time and energy I've given it lately. So I'll try to do better.
Debbie had a scan a couple of days ago. We sat there looking up at the screen, watching a head move, and tiny hands and legs and knees and feet, and seeing a heart beating away. Our child growing.
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I hate the talk that's around now about cloning humans. As I did about cloning sheep and what have you. I don't even listen, now, to the arguments for it. Instinctively it repulses me, I recoil from the whole mentality that tries to reach an artificial goal of perfection. It's arrogant, and dishonest and self-serving. It seems a tool for the rich to play with. And there's probably nothing we can do about it now.
But you see something created through love and sex, and know the night it happened, with the sweat tasted from Debbie and the smell of her hair in your memory and the feel of her striving up to meet you and her lips warm and soft on your mouth and know that it's something unique inside her you've created together. And I turn off at the talk of cloning and feel sick.
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The other night we were playing on our bed before Matthew's bedtime. We were asking him about his day at kindergarten. If he had made any friends. “No”, he said, “there's some bad boys there!” “What are their names” we asked. “Robin Hood” he replied. Robin Hood?? Where does he come up with this? I laughed so much, he finally turned around, fixed me with a stern look, and said, “Daddy, stop laughing — it's not funny!”
When he's in a sneaky, wanting-to-be-nice-so-we'll-give-him-something mood, he calls us “my sweet”, as in “Come with me, my sweet Dad”. When he's in a playing-joking-but-not-really-knowing-that's-it's-not-that-funny mood, he calls us old and silly, as in, “No you don't, you silly old woman!” The thing is, he's so damn adorable doing it!
It's a Friday night. The weekend is beckoning. I have nearly finished this huge project I've been working on. I bet Debbie is warm and soft and sleepy in bed.
Have a good weekend!
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Gnotella
I've finally discovered the joys of downloading mp3 files of obscure songs and artists!
Journals and blogs that I read regularly
Raising Hell
Feral Living
Hippycritical
Udder
My Life in 12 Point Font
Journal of a Writing Man
Some Jingle Jangle Morning
The Last Girl Scout
Potatoe.com
Journallife.com
Window to my Soul
Chickybabe
Sorabji.com
Yesterday's Makeup
Fifteen Milliliters
Fly Away
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Photo of tunnel copyright Bernd Klumpp, available from istockphoto.com