Again and Again
I am digging through all this filth I called poetry at one point, and I am amazed by what I dig up. These recyled emotions again and again. Apparently, "Soggy" was not the first time I killed my father in a creative piece. I have been back over him again and again and again, the drinking, the losses, the violence, the disgust and hate.
I write about my father more often than anything else.
And I still wish he was dead.
posted by january girl @ 12:56 PM
2 Comments:
There's always that same tension, right: you can't help but love him--he's Dad--but you can't help but hate him for failing you. 'Course, that's the way it all goes sour, right, you can't give up the one feeling and can't get rid of the other; and I'm not just talking about parents.
I've always found your forgiving nature appealing. It goes well with your blindingly sunny disposition and super-keen sense of fashion. I lost your number, but I found your blog. E-mail me.... jase@rome.com I'm getting married.
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