SGFE--Pleasures of the Hearth

Do you know how bored I am now? Every night it’s the same thing. I come home from being with my best friend, Steve, and get bored. Shows like King of the Hill, Family Guy, Futurama, American Dad, etc., don’t help much. I’m also trying to read The Iliad. I even played steel for about an hour. I’m working on "Cold, Cold Heart." But it would be so great to do something I’m not supposed to do. Naaaaaaa. It would be great to have Ricky here. Of course, even if I did have him here, I might want to do something naughty. Going through a divorce is like becoming single again. Remember what it was like to be single? Your time is your own. You can listen to sermons fully and unfettered. You can watch what you want on TV. You can stroll through stores without having to make snap decisions and avoid the things you don’t want your son to see so he won’t cry to have them. But being a parent is not boring, that’s for sure. You may want to drown your kids but you are not bored. And maybe that’s why my life feels boring now.

Why the flip ain’t I writing like I done in the 1st entry? Dunno. Do you like plain English better? Let me know. I am a frustrated writer, so your reading this relieves that, but you’ve got to let me know what style you like. Someone once said that everyone is either a frustrated actor, writer, dancer, or whatever. I studied literature in college because I wanted to be a writer, and the best examples of writing are to be found in literature. But I knew I would have to fall back on teaching if I wasn’t writing for money. The truth is, I write. I journal, but now only when I am on a plane somewhere—when sth is either starting or finishing. But I used to journal every day or so. I used to write a letter to a pen pal almost every day, too.

But I am starting a new job tomorrow. Exclamation point? No. I am teaching. ESL in downtown Phoenix. I will be enthusiastic enough while there, though. But the important thing is to be thankful to God for the job. When they axed me there if I was enthusiastic, I said yes, but that's not what I felt.

But I told you I was going to tell you abt the month with Ricky here. If you have never had a child, here is what that can be like.

First I have to tell you abt the flight. He is four and long out of diapers but pooped his pants on the plane. I kept smelling sth like a fart and finally pulled his waistband away from his back and saw it. To the bathroom we went. But he didn’t want the door closed--I think he can be claustrophobic--and started screaming. I left the door open, and the screaming continued, to the point of passengers complaining. So I got his pants off and his butt cleaned, and through the ordeal, we started praying and I kept telling him it was ok to be afraid and that God and Jesus were there. “I afraid,” he kept saying, “I afraid.” I hadn’t brought him any clean underwear, and he wanted his underwear back on. I had to wash them in the sink and put them back on him. When all this was done, he had begun to calm down. “See,” I said, “now it’s ok. God helped us.” “Thank you, Jesus,” he said. It beat the hell out of any quiet night I’ve had at home, that’s for sure.

More later.

Steel Guitar for Everyone--Introduction

Why buy this book? ‘Cause they ain’t nuttin’ else out there like it. I recently seen the movie Julie & Julia, ‘cause I love cookin’ and respect Julia Child as a cook and a teacher. When I saw Amy Adams as Julie Powell doing a one-year experiment to cook thru Mastering the Art of French Cooking and blog abt it, I thought, “Why the fuck can’t I do a one year experiment of some sort and write abt it?” I didn’t really think the f word; that’s just to spice this up. Then I seen a book abt another guy who wanted sth to write about and so read every word of the O flippin’ ED—21, 000 or some pages and wrote abt that, and I thought….

So I had this steel guitar what I bought on Amazon, right? I started out trying to learn it abt 1 hr/day, but it quickly degenerated down to 15 min. every few days. Every time I hear good steel guitar or read or see sbdy doing sth great on celluloid or in print, I get encouraged to pull my otherwise channel-surfing-trying-to-avoid-staring-at-the-porno/cheesecake-shows butt up to my already-set-up-and-ready-to play-got-no-real-excuse-not-to-play steel guitar. I don’t really use the lame-ass excuse that there aren’t any good materials for learning nonpedal C6 steel guitar, ‘cause I know I could do it without good materials if I really wanted to. Still, I saw a niche for a book.

Why do I have so much time to channel surf, you ask? Thanks for axing. I’m unemployed. And I have sth else in my life that there ain’t nuttin’ else like: I’m in the middle of an international divorce. My life is too flippin’ easy right now ‘cause I don’t have to parent my four-year old, Ricky. My borderline personality disorder Polish wife kicked me out, and I had to come back home to Arizona. Is she really BPD? I don’t know. Guess I have to read (or write) a book abt that. The things in life that are not described between the leaves of books are where most of us live.

By this time, this introduction has taken a decidedly undecided turn, n’est pas? I really did start out to write the unwritten bk abt learning steel guitar. But here is a third bk I ken write abt, just having stumbled onto the idea for one. Like learning steel guitar, there aren’t any books out there on international divorce. Lots o’ books on divorce, true, but none of the intl. variety. Too big a subject, I guess. Unhelped by International Divorce for Dummies, every night when I head to the shower, I start to pray ‘cause a whole day has passed and I have nothing to show for it. I’m still here and he’s back in Poland and all I can do is talk to him on the phone, though I’m trying to get a voice chat messenger thing up.

Ricky was here too. Man,was that a miracle! Let my people go, Pharaoh!—and the bitch did. See, my business in Poland crashed last year. And Vie—I’ll nickname my wife Violet that ‘cause she’s so fucking contentious—borrowed money for me to leave, tho she wouldn’t lend me money to stay. But I wasn’t going to come here to Arizona unless it was with r—lower-case letter R/r now stands for Ricky. It’s too long to describe how I wouldn’t let her buy me a ticket and her violent freak-out sessions. I’ll describe it if’n ye ax fer it. But finally she agreed for him to come w/ me for a month; then I would fly back to Pol. w/ him—he’s too young to fly alone.

We did come here, and we stayed w/ my best friend. I’ll tell you abt it next entry. Now I gotta go either surf or play steel guitar.