Friday, September 29, 2006

Utne likes me! But I still have to clean up all this shit.

Awake this morning early to poop-filled diapers and blindingly bright rays of sun crackling through the tree line into my peepers. flick on the BBC world service and drink some protein shake while running through computer routines. discover my zine/blog featured on Utne's website! Decide I should say something profound today of all days.

Honesty is one of the most powerful tools at our disposal, capable of teaching the most important lessons in the shortest ammount of time. This thought occured to me while chatting with other young radical parents at The Evergreen State College over the course of this past week's adventures in anarchist book selling. Whenever we find a few spare moments to exchange words we almost instinctually shift into this form of concise brevity that spares no bullshit, whether comparing our simple routines, swapping toddler-talk-tales, telling stories of our lives beyond the walls of parenthood or merely discussing the day's events/responsibilties/happenings/pitfalls. Whenever we talk politics it's always short but deep, we don't argue really at all (probably because we don't have the time or energy to waste our relationships that way on each other)... it's more like middle-schoolers showing each other their answers on a test and copying the ones they approve of.

This experience has been a wonderful break from my normal rhythms, as we cannot help but shower each other with praises, be they blatant or subtle, smiles and nods from across the square or up-front strong hugs and words of support. This common bond helps transition me into rediscovering my alma mater campus again in a whole new context, as this man and father I am becoming rather than as a high-strung overly-intellectual alcoholic womanizing college kid. Not that don't still get along with those cats... I've just moved past their scene and like to look back fondly sometimes.

Powerful women have entered my life as of late on several different fronts. I've always been drawn to the wildly brilliant, equally neurotic, amazingly artistic ones but it seems a new breed has discovered me as well, or perhaps along with the increased responsibility of fatherhood some older women have started noticing how little maturity has to do with age over attitude. Their words of reassurance and compassion, understanding and empathy ring in my ears after days have passed and I carry their little lessons around with me in the worn-out pocket of my soul.

I hope all this makes sense to someone and I hope that someone writes me back and helps me get it.

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