Friday, January 22, 2010

Bout Time

I think I have become my father after all. Im not working on a dredge boat in the gulf of mexico supporting 5 kids at thirty. But, I do drink, smoke, and always up for a proper fist fight. Which doesnt exist anymore. Anyway, tonight me and a couple of boys are heading up to the Spurs Rockets game. I hate the spurs just as mush as i do the cowboys. So I want to spend as little money as I can in that hell hole of a stadium. So I decided to hit the hard stuff, crown and seven. After pouring my first drink, little on the seven of course, and after the first cig, it was kind of boring. So i turned on some music, country to be exact. Whiskey and Country just seem to go hand and hand, beer and tejano, burbon and Jazz, and scotch with frank. Sinatra of course, wine with percy or with a great steak, an illegal substance and tequilla with metaclia, of course.

Anyway, when I was a kid my dad would be home on a friday or sat and close the door to the room and crank up my sisters stereo to some old country tunes and I would have to go in and check on him to make sure his glass wasn't empty. He would sit infront of the speakers and just listen. I always thought something was wrong until today. I caught myself doing the same thing. And it was mind blowing, I felt the music in a different way today. I was alone, and a little lonely but in a damn good mood. Then I started thinking about all the good times I've had over the years, of course different songs for diffferent memories. I also remeber the last time I figured oput why my father did the things he did. My father would come home sometimes and forget to close the bathroom door, and me being my fathers little shadow, I would peek in on him, and he would place his right hand on the wall infront of him and put his weight on that arm, so naturally I would try to mimick that move, it wasn't till my 21st birthday when I figured out that, that particular move had a purpose, I was too drunk to balance myself so I placed my hand on the wall and leaned into it. And at that moment I thought to myself "Oh shit , dad must have had to much fire water"! My father has never really had issues with depression, he is a very strong man, "get up and put on leg infront of the other" is what he would always tell me if I had a bad day, or if one of those "proper fist fights" didnt go my way(damn those 2 sucked)lol . I think when he was in that room, he was probably doing what I was doing today, well, maybe he was just tired of arguing with the wife about being out at bars all night, but, I would like to think it was what I was doing, who knows I might have a different view point if I get married and catch myself doing the same thing today.

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