Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Since we’re on the subject …
The purse incident isn't the only time I thought Dad came to visit. For awhile after he died, for example, my TV, which has hit-or-miss reception anyway, would get these clearly electrical diagonal lines in it, but the picture would be perfectly clear otherwise, and while that was happening, the light would flicker, or if I was talking to Kaffy, I would get this huge electrical charge through the phone. (She remembers, because I would tell her about it as we were talking.) And sure, it could be coincidence, but my one best friend Laura, who lost her mom a little more than a year before Dad, used to talk about the same types of things happening to her and her sisters. In fact, it was Laura who pointed out that when I was giving my eulogy at Dad's funeral, the lights dimmed considerably. I didn't notice, of course, but I was hysterical at the time. And sometimes, he shows up in my dreams, but it's never a cathartic gesture as happens with some people -- at least not that I can remember, anyway. Maybe that's because we made our peace before he died.

I'm SURE he's around when I'm in the car, because of my idiot driving habits. A couple months after he died, my friend Poppy (not her real name) and I went out for the first time in, like, five years, and the short version? Two or three beers and three or four Flaming Dr Peppers later -- you know, the one where you set a shot of I-forget-what on fire and then drop it into a beer, which makes it taste like Dr Pepper -- I was FUCKED. UP. I mean, as in BAD fucked-up, like it was a miracle that I didn't kill myself/someone else/a telephone pole or tree/get pulled over for DWI. And the only way that could've happened was if Dad was co-piloting. I'm sure of it. But not one to ever miss out on teaching me a lesson in the process, the next day while I was driving Mother to get lunch, I had to pull over on the side of the road from the wave of nausea that coursed through my body, and then explain to Mother why I had to pull over. It was a toss-up as to which one was worse.
Posted by BroadDad
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...

The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:

Save the Net Now

/> Wanna make a bunch of money doing what you're doing right now?

Hey Webmasters! - Make $$$
The Affiliates Program is a great way to make money with your website. All you have to do is place links on your site to When your site visitors click on your links and make purchases at, you earn 25%-30% of the sale. Sign up today!

Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

powered by
EE Core

script assistance by

hosted by

This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.


<< chicago blogs >>

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

Support Bloggers' Rights!
Support Bloggers' Rights!