Well would you look at that. My blog has been viewed over 1000 times. Thats pretty cool. I don't know what i was expecting out of it but it has been very enjoyable doing it and I have to say its been great for my ego getting some lovely feedback and whatnot.
The whole writing experience has been a huge positive for me. It has helped me have some direction in this my year of 'bo-ho, slacker utopia' as Steve likes to call it and it has also been therapeutic when a professional therapist is beyond my price range.
And they say you can't put a price on mental health. You can you know. €60 a week.
But I digress.
Like all the greats, Kanye, Paula Abdul, Ashton Kutcher, I'd be nothing without you the reader. You make me want to be a better man. If I could i'd stand outside all your houses with a boombox blasting Peter Gabriel held aloft.
So as a 'reward' for allowing me to feed my self indulgence, I'm going to post the first thing I committed to paper.
Its really just an idea. Its not something I would consider a finished work and I have since taken the beginning and used it another, very different story. I look at it now as stepping stone.
I guess some of it is partially biographical, but its the biography of a different me at a different time in my life.
Anyway....normal blog service will resume this week, in the meantime thanks to anyone who has read anything i've written here.
Oh and I'm aware 100 100's isn't One thousand....well I am now.
The Most Disapproving Man in the World
As I turned into the drive he was standing there in the doorway. Waiting. Judging. With the exception of a few more wrinkles the grimace on his face was the same as the one he had fifteen years ago the time I told him about my decision about College. My Dad. The most disapproving man in the world.
Deep Breaths. Count to then. I opened the door to my latest purchase. A green, second hand Fiat Punto automobile. Twelve years old. Two previous owners.
“Hi”, I said as I stepped out. “What do you think of her?”
“How’s it going” he muttered as he approached the car. “What sort of color is that supposed to be?”
He walked around the car. Taking in every detail. Looking her up and down. My Dad knows very little about auto mechanics. But he knows I know even less. As he circled the Punto he kicked each tyre. Three times he tapped it wheel with his size 11 moccossins. Ha. I had done that when I bought it. Everyone knows to kick the tyres. It makes you look in the know. He grimaced and scratched the back of his head as he ran his fingers along the paintjob.
He questioned me as he opened the bonnet and looked at the engine. What he thought he would get from looking at it is another thing.
“ Is it a diesel engine, yea? You know that means you can’t but petrol in it? What kind of mileage is on it? Was the sales guy foreign?”
Each answer I gave him was met with a look of unbelieving. When I responded to his enquiry about the price he scoffed.
“They must have had really big windows.”
I don’t know why I put myself through it. I’m a grown man. I have a nice little business. I have friends who are actual mechanics. But I still decided to give my dad a call when I bought the car. Its good for us. He gets to think he still knows best. And besides. If he wasn’t giving out, he’d probably just sit around missing mum.
I noticed the complaining started getting worse since the funeral. He complained about the egg sandwiches at the wake. He complained about the state of the bathrooms in the funeral home. He complained about the size of the knot in my tie. He complained. He liked it.
My Dad. The worlds greatest complainer.
As he slammed the bonnet shut he asked me if I wanted a cup of tea.
“Sure” I said, walking up the steps of the porch entering through the hall door.
“ And will you take a look at the computer, I can’t get on to my online bingo”
I hated when he asks me to look at the computer.
“I’ll take a look but I can’t promise you anything” I felt like I was pleading for leniency.
“Sure didn’t you go to college” was the answer he like to trot out on these occassions
“Yea, I studied art appreciation” I tried to defend myself.
“I know”he said. And I saw that old familiar grimace one more time.
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