February 1, 2003

Today is my dad’s 58th birthday. Big ups to my dad on his birthday! My dad has been a huge influence on my life and work. Our relationship is a great illustration of nurture destroying nature. My mom and dad got married when I was four years old. They started living together when I was three. There never was any of that stepfather/stepson bullshit in my family. I can’t even relate. Not even a little bit. My dad has always treated me like a son and I have never thought of him as anything but my dad. And after he threatened to kill (you’d have to know my dad) my biological father, well, that was pretty much it for the biological father who I have only seen once since my parents got married like ten years ago. My dad, like Pee Wee Herman, is a loner and a rebel. He was the dad in the neighborhood that all the kids were afraid of. We had one rule when we were growing up. Don’t make your mother cry. You can do whatever you want whenever you want as long as it doesn’t make your mother cry. Cool. Sounds easy enough. That is a pretty fair rule, if you ask me. I can live with that. Unfortunately, my mother is either a cry baby or a drama queen because she cried constantly when I was living at home. She was always blubbering. She was always weeping. She was always sobbing. And my brother and I (mostly me) were always getting the shit kicked out of us. I have almost completely rose colored the river of feces of my youth. But I still remember a couple of old school Fleet Avenue beat downs that my dad laid on me. It is funny. My dad, who is calm like a mild kitten now, has seen me totally lose it and blow my stack and start raging and curse up a fucking storm while we are working on a project. He laughs. Where did you get that temper? I learned it from you, dad. Now that we are adults and all that growing up nonsense is just water in the river of feces flowing under the bridge of refuse, I will say that my dad is cool. I like him. More important, I understand him. I can look at my dad now and know where he was and is coming from. That is so important. Dig this: your parents are people too.

Three quick ones about my dad:

1. Thanks to Steven King, my dad likes both AC/DC and the Ramones. He owns records by both of these groups. I also remember him rapping along to the song “Girls” by the Beastie Boys.
2. He is a fashionable trendsetter. He pioneered the use of the phrase “Ah, you shit” that is so popular on Rockside Road and all over the South Side today.
3. He has no memories. They were stolen by dubious ruffians.

I told my dad I loved him on the phone today. I meant it. He has hugged me as an adult living this life doing the Assholier than Thou Good times Happy Friends Monday Morning Radio Show when I was totally in the shitter and I really felt better. I don’t what else to say than that. Big ups to my dad on his birthday! He is the man now dog.

posted by Thea at 7:36 PM

January 30, 2003

It was a long day. And boring too. It started off bad. I stalled while writing for the first time since I started the book. I looked that the computer. I thought about what I was writing. I drew a blank. I counted words. I struggled. I was happy to be done with my thousand. Work was stupid. My big thrill for the day was lowering my chair. I think I have been sitting too high and not slouching enough. I took a walk at lunch for the first time in a couple of weeks. Hallelujah. I can breath again. I have to remember to keep doing this. It keeps me from going completely nuts. My drumming was not so great tonight. I limped through “Arthur, Or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire” by the Kinks. No snap. No focus. It was not fun. It was not sexy. I was just kind of tapping along. My ass hurts from my drum stool. And that is all she wrote for today.

posted by Thea at 7:16 PM

January 29, 2003

“Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love”. One of the greatest songs ever. Van Halen versus Minutemen. It does not matter which version. That song rules. I was, as a born rocker, in love with the Van Halen version first. And then I got into punk rock. I thought that you were supposed to leave all that classic rock bullshit in the Cutlass Supreme on Turney Road. I heard the Minutemen version. And it all became clear to me. Like it always does. Now, it is the one song on classic rock radio that I will not immediately turn off after I leave the radio set to the classic rock station while listening to Howard Stern for the ten (mostly less) minutes that I am in the shower in the morning. Sorry Led Zeppelin. I love that song. It is playing somewhere on classic rock radio in some city around the world right now. Think about that for a second. It blows my mind.

I am still writing the book. It is going good. What is a synonym for good?

I am still playing drums. I have a callous on my right hand that keeps on splitting. Ouch. I hurt my back yesterday playing “Blood and Chocolate” by Elvis Costello. Double Ouch. I am going to play You Am I’s “#4 Record” after I am done with this BLOG. What? No heavy metal? No hard rock? No AC/DC? I know. It is weird. But trust me. I have my reasons.

I got fucked over at work today. What else is new, you ask? Nothing.

I am thinking of nothing but bed rest this weekend. And reading. “L.A. Confidential” by James Ellroy. What is a synonym for good?

posted by Thea at 6:22 PM

January 28, 2003

I went to the Cavs game last night. It was nice. Big ups to DJ Pat B for the seats. They were close to the floor. We could have been even closer considering that nobody was there. I could have probably sat on the Cavs bench and nobody would have noticed. Come on, Cavs fan(s). This is bullshit. I know. The weather sucks. The Cavs suck. But there is nothing else to do. As much as I can’t wait to go old school Opening Day 1989 Cleveland Municipal Stadium called on the count of snow on everybody asses when the Cavs start winning, it would be nice to see some other people in the stands along with me now. Jeez Louise. Let's get it together. I was not completely alone, however, Andrej (who hates the world as much as I do), went with me. While we watched the game, we talked about how much we hate the world and Euro soccer hooligans. Maybe this is a call to arms for me, St. Anj, Smoking Steve and others like us to become Cleveland Cavalier hooligans. I don’t think this is a bad idea even though Gund Arena security personnel outnumber Cavs fans two to one. Although we are small in number, we are strong in spirit. I will be at the Gund when the Cavs take on the 76ers on February 21, 2003 with my former mentor. Join with us as we wreck shit at Gund Arena. How does that sound? I will do whatever it takes to save my beloved Cavalier franchise. I will do anything to not be bored anymore. Cavs hooliganism sounds like an idea. As for last night, the Cavs beat the Clippers although the Clippers looked better most, if not all, of the night. I was happy to see former Cavalier Andre Miller play like shit. Maybe that wasn’t as bad as a trade it looked. I am sorry. Yes it was. But at least he sucked for us when it counted. Thanks Andre. You are a peach.

posted by Thea at 9:48 PM