365 days of fun and fuckery, of love and hate, of life and death. Of things going terribly and irreparably wrong, of putting my best foot forward (without always knowing why or what for), and of things finally starting to look up.
365 days in which I was unable to share any of it with you. Being unable to ask you for advice (that I wouldn’t have taken anyway) or support (which I would’ve). I was unable, because even though you were “there” the whole while, you are still gone.
When I was a child, I remember occasionally have night frights that would awaken me, rigid with fear. I would then creep into my parents room, edging my way up to the corner of their bed, while looking intently at my dad’s chest. I would do so until I could confirm that it was rising and lowering with breath, and only then, would I be able to shake the fright and return to my bed.
A little over a week ago, I was reminded of this as I found myself doing very much the same. I stared intently at dad’s chest. This time not so much to confirm that he was breathing, but rather, because I knew it would only be a matter of time until he was not.
My dad was almost there. Almost home. And now he’s gone. His was a very small and private service, but he is…
Yesterday, I saw a new icon on my notification tab. Well; I thought it was a new icon at any rate. Clicking on it, I realized that I actually had seen it before, exactly one-year prior in fact, as the following popped into existence…
That’s right. As of the 27th of May, this lil blog of mine is now two years old. And to celebrate, I got it nothing.
Abso-freakin’-lutely nothing.
No special posts written, no photos taken, no quotes retrieved. No reviews readied, nor songs chosen. Nothing. Hell, I didn’t even realize that its anniversary was coming due.
What kind of ass am I?
I mean, over the past two years, “As Long As…” has allowed me to share with you my father’s passing, my children’s growth, the struggles I’ve had with my faith, the recent and unexpected death of my 17 year marriage, the oft time battles I’ve had with depression, and of course the efforts that have stock-piled, resulting from my dreams of one day becoming a pretend writer of some sort.
Starting with just one follower – my bestest friend ever whom I’ve never met – this kid has grown slowly to a little over 230 more of you since. And I am as grateful to you all, as I am questioning of your literary taste… More importantly though, since its inception “As Long As…” has provided me with peace and solace during my dark hours. A place to scream, bitch, bemoan, play and flex my mental muscles and – to my albeit grateful surprise – it has brought me strong friendships that have only grown, as the challenges of life have become harder, though eventually overcome. In short, this blog has given me more than a lot of living, breathing people I know have.
And I didn’t even realize that its anniversary was coming due.
What kind of ass am I?
Hey you, As Long As I’m Singing, thank you my friend. I appreciate it… all of it.
As I noted previously, I didn’t have an applicable quote, nor a song chosen for this event. You know, in part because I totally forgot that this event was even to be an event. But I figured the following two will work well enough. The quote, simply because it’s about the truest thing I’ve ever read, and something I am coming to believe. And the song because, as you are an apple that fell pretty close to its somewhat creative tree, I feel it’s a good choice to describe how I feel about us both.
Happy 2nd, As Long As I’m Singing. Here’s to year 3 =)
I think I’m missing an assignment, but the Prof promised me extra credit, as long as I really “brought it” this week.
Damn. I could’ve used that extra credit…
Anywho, this week’s Master Class 2013 assignment had a bit of a switch in it, in that the prompt came from a song instead of a work of literature; to be used at the end of the submission. As such, and after reading the prompt, I decided to put one more switch into place, and also included a lyric at the beginning. One that was prompted by the prompt. Make sense?
Probably not. Regardless, I hope you enjoy, and invite you to please click on the MC2013 link above, in order to join in on the fun! You know you wanna…
I’m standing in a line with a dirty mind. Clean it up on Sunday morning.
Yeah, yeah. Gotta go to Big God’s house today. Better clean up. Hide everything… get all the “stuff” put away. Yeah. He’ll never see it up there, tucked way away in the corner of my filthy little mind. All the things I want, all the things I crave. All the things I need, all the things I think would fulfill me. All the things that He said I can’t have, after He created them. Yeah, grab all that shit and hide it away.
Yeah. Put all that shit away. Just put it away, boy-O. No one, but no one, needs to know about all that. They don’t wanna know that you like it a little rough sometimes. No. Just sit there looking pretty. They don’t need to know that your first time wasn’t with the right sex. Oh, hell no! Just sit there with your eyes glued to the pulpit. They don’t wanna hear that you sometimes wish you could dress out here, the way that you dress behind closed doors. They don’t wanna know. They can’t bear to know the person that God made ya to be. They can’t stomach knowing how often you wanna share your love, and with how many different types you wanna share it. No. That would disgust them. They only wanna see the pin-striped, straight-jacketed version of the body that you deny weekly, all in an effort to appease them and their rules. To appease Him. Yeah. That’s what they want. That’s what He wants. Why’d He make you otherwise? Who knows? Cross-to-bear shit, I would imagine.
It don’t matter much. It’s His game, not mine. And every drop of sunshine he lets in, just confuses me more. I mean, why’d He give me these glimpses of happiness, only to have His tool of a shepherd-man tell me it’s all wrong, raining on the very parade He started? Gotta be cross-to-bear shit, man. Gotta be.
So you go on denying. You go on pretending that it’s girls you like, and white lace, and picket fences in the moonlight. You make sure you rough up your brows, just so no one notices that they look a little too nice otherwise. You keep grinning with that same stupid-ass grin you slather on your face every Sunday morning. The same stupid-ass grin your daddy slathered on his face before you. You grin it, and you ignore every last nerve inside of you, screaming to God for freedom in a world that He created, and then gave over to the power-hungry, the homophobes and the pricks.
I mean, why not, right? Cross-to-bear shit, man, cross-to-bear. Besides, it ain’t gonna rain unless it pours anyway. Until then, there’ll be no sun, and no rain. Just constant and oppressive pin-striped straight-jacketed grey. So what’s the point? Like daddy used to spit out through his stupid ass grin, well before the day he blew out his denial-doused brains, “No umbrellas, no sunglasses, hell and hallelujah everyday,” right?
•••
This week’s prompt came from Incubus’ “If Not Now, When?” and the subsequent prompt to the prompt came from The Bolshoi’s “Sunday Morning.” That’s right kids, that means it’s a double song day bonus!
Ain’t no flippin’ way you’re Jesus. That’s bullcrap!
Then why’d you answer? Weren’t you just now asking for some sort of sign; that I’d “call you?”
Well, yeah… but a phone?
Look, the device is obviously defunct. Inoperable. You’re pretty dense Dave, and I had to get through. Plus, I thought you might also enjoy the spectacle of it all.
I suppose…
I have been talking to you your whole life. You get that, right? You just never listened.
Yeah?
Yeah.
…Yeah.
So, do I need to perform these asinine tricks anymore?
No, we’re good.
Good. Now hang up and go your wash your hands. That thing is filthy.
as long as i'm singing 