Happy birthday dear Seedy, CD, Clay. This is how I remember you. Wearing my coat, taking my clothes, reading my books, listening to my music. I remember dancing with you at Cats, watching movies with you and Randy, visiting Ronnie with you, going to Marcy Mendelon’s art show with you, you drinking with Fawn while I was in New Mexico at my grandmother’s funeral and you knocking a beer bottle into her face, chipping her front tooth. I remember how you offered to go to the funeral with me and you patiently walked me through the whole ritual. You asked me to bring you rain back from the desert and I did.
Tag / nonfiction
A Portrait of My Father, the Reader, in Books
My dad read the newspaper everyday. The San Francisco Chronicle and The Pacifica Tribune. He always had one book he was reading. But he worked full time and likes to build things so he did not have too much time to read. Since he retired, his reading has increased exponentially. I wish I would have thought to chronicle the books he’s read before now.
Goth Grammarist 