Good Days

Yesterday was my birthday. It was much better (as in, holy shit, that was a great day) than my 30th, which I reacted to in an unexpectedly negative way. I've been thinking about why that is.

Perhaps is was the new Lansky Kit. God knows I've been wanting (I would say needing) one of these. I'm not nearly good enough with my old school stone, and I could see that I wasn't doing my good knives any favors, so I stopped sharpening them until I could get one of these. That was around 8 months ago, so it should go without saying that meal preparation had become steadily more annoying. I was at the point where I was desperately avoiding confrontations between my Henckel and a tomato.*

*dull knife problem solved, I am still avoiding the tomato fruit with regularity as they cost somewhere in the vicinity of $1000/lb and taste like nothing. Or wood. Christ, I miss good tomatoes.)

Perhaps it was receiving Anthony Sutton's 3-book study on Wall Street and Socialism--Wall Street & The Bolshevik Revolution, Wall Street and FDR, Wall Street and the Rise of Hitler. Fantastic. I put down Jung's The Undiscovered Self and am already diving in.

Few things make one feel better than to have sharp knives, a freezer full of meat, and a stack of wonderful books awaiting a set of eyes. Indeed, it is true, but these things weren't the reason why.

***********

Anna is ridiculous, in a good way, of course. That is, aside from the rapidly degenerating alcoholism and recent forays into the dark netherworld of hard drugs and incoherent conversation. I won't even try and count the number of times that I've almost written about the latest wunderkid superfeat taking place over the last couple of months. Every time I'm near to the point of putting fingers to keyboard she does something wunderkid EXTRAsuperhuman for me to gaze upon and praise at great length. There was also the apprehension caused by trying to avoid being a super ghey daddy blog. But hey, it is what it is. Say it loud.

A quick story or two.....

As stated previously, despite our own efforts, Anna's alcoholism remains and seems to be progressing downhill in a steep fashion. I fear that she has been bingeing wildly sometime between the hours of 3AM and 7AM due in no small part to the fact that here have been many mornings where she wakes us with a gargoyle. Now I know what many of you are thinking, "but that's what babies do". Perhaps, but taking time to fully consider the impact and effect of The Gargoyle, one also realizes that this is also the behavior of an raging and grossly irresponsible drunkard (no offense to quasi-celebrity/fascist, Jason Mulgrew, who is consistently blazing new inebriated trails for all to marvel at and follow).

When this is all over, I am really going to be interested in how she managed to hide so many bottles of Scotch. I haven't been able to find a single one yet. Sneaky alcoholic babies....

Then we come to the issue of hard drugs, as if the drinking wasn't problem enough. Over the last week or so, Anna likes to be in the bathroom. However, "likes" is really nowhere near a strong enough term in this case.

"Ifyoutrytoremovemefromherei'mgoingtoletyouknowandloudly" is infinitely more accurate.

Favorite activity while in the bathroom: Babbling at the baby in the mirror while playing with her face, and since we're counting, puking in the sink and laughing about it.

I got to thinking about the fact that children function primarily in a Gamma brain state until around age 5. Think waking dream, but all the time. That's when it hit me.

My daughter has graduated to acid.

Think about it--when tripping, where do you trip the hardest? That's right, the bathroom. It is always the indicator of where you are in relation to peak status. What do so many relate doing in the bathroom whilst on acid? That's right, babble to yourself in the mirror while watching your face melt (and if it's an 'and/or' situation with shrooms, puking).

See it now?

I now also know where she got it. I suspected from the beginning is was that turtle-lookin motherfucker with the cock growing out if its head. I was going to go after him straightaway, but exercised multiple-times-over admirable restraint and decided to corner the stuffed unicorn. Ratchet up the pressure and the unicorn gives it up every time (and lest you think me an overly mean person, you really don't have to apply very much pressure at all, as everyone knows that it's impossible for a unicorn to lie).

The terminally happy monkey that lives on the shelf told me that it was because Anna was trying to recapture that Gamma state long gone. Her brain having developed past that stage weeks ago, she feels like her childhood has been cut short. I must try and relate to her that these are burdens which unfortunately must be carried when you're the Smartest Child Ever.

But she's an addict, and will probably run (trip, more likely) right back to the acid because it's fun, and all she has to do is give me The Look which keeps me from changing the locks yet again even though I know I should.



It's the look that has no idea how old I am, and doesn't care because it doesn't matter. And it doesn't. This was the reason it was a good day, like all of the other days that The Look appears. It sends the idea of birthdays, ages, and the What Widely Accepted Milestone Should I Be At At This Point neurosis far into the background, which is really the best place for them.

Soothing the Beast

Captains Log--Five and a half weeks

We've been examining The Beast for lo these many weeks, but all efforts to soothe (all very scientific and led by countless experts) have thus yielded a comparatively small amount of fruit.

The Beast will not be soothed.

The problem is as follows: The Beast loves food. Like Randy Jackson loves twinkies and small boys that can't run fast. Big Love. When food is presented, it gets visibly excited and a great thrashing around commences. This frenzy leads The Beast to miss the dispenser multiple times, sucking in great amounts of air. This in turn leads to great amounts of gas, and it is readily apparent that The Beast does not suffer abdominal discomfort gently. Every instance of this brings with it a torrent of great noises that shake the brain in such a way as to induce a small frenzy, causing all creatures great and small to run amok in an attempt to make the noise stop. Over time, personnel have discovered techniques for gas relief, but all such measures take time, and thus, shortly after task completion the process begins anew.

The Beast does fall into periods of sleep, but of short duration, and the crew has been feeling the effects of this compounding problem. They don't fear dying for lack of sleep. Rather, they fear not being able to die under its iron fist. However, this is no longer a worry. Today brought a leap forward that promises greater relief, in order to buy everyone more time in the further examination of this thing that is sure to be making more noise later, but for completely different reasons.

The enemy is constantly adapting.....where have I heard that before?

This beast might be a terrorist. (Thanks GW and pals!)

Be that as it may, it is a beast that is consistently soothed by rap. It's good to see some of the important characteristics come through. At the present, The Blueprint is bringing peace and harmony to household and it's holding pretty well. I'm working right how trying parse whether or not the quality of the rap is proportional to the length of effectiveness, which it in part seems to be. Current favorites seem to be Jay-Z, Kanye, Talib Kweli, and Ghostface (Pretty Toney). The Beast as not a very big fan of Nappy Roots. They worked, but not nearly as well.

Now a great majority of my time is spent wondering what that first word is going to be.

Fun. That's what it's gonna be.

I think I should probably stick a boombox on the stroller. My child likes NWA and DJ Quik, get over it. I like sleep better than your sensibilities. Wait till you see the Old English label I get for the baby bottle....family and strangers alike will be frozen aghast as the awesomeness of The Beast sends them over the edge of Good Taste.



I'm being swallowed whole by parenthood. God help this humble blog as it begins its descent to a level heretofore untold (as though enough haven't been driven away already).

(Then again, one viewpoint might be that babies just like racket, ergo rap is closer to racket than real music. This is wrong, of course, but I thought I would jot it down so as not be accused of the awful "bias" so many are tarred with. Either way, there can be no denial of impending awesomeness.)

Meet My Abuser

Joaquin is right. I am an ugly, ugly man (I only ask that you help me keep this from the Mrs., whom I have successfully fooled for going on 7 years now)--so here are a couple of pictures that are easier on the eyes.



Now, looking at the above photos of random sleeping and first bath, you may inclined to think "Boy, that's pretty cute."

You would be wrong.

She is a master manipulator, and seeks to hide her true self, which is that of a raging drunkard.

The cocktail of choice? Breast milk, straight up, and lots of it.

I think it would be helpful at this point to list some of the common features that can typically signal an out of control addiction, in order that I might not only be able to determine if my child has a problem, but also help others who may be in the same predicament.

1) Drinking Alone

This one just isn't possible, but it does naturally cause one's focus to shift to her mother, who, it seems, is a serial enabler.

2) Making excuses, or finding excuses to drink

Check and check. Always with the excuses, like, "I'm hungry" (communicated through the act of yelling, as being constantly milk drunk seems to render her unable and/or unwilling to simply say so in a calm and reasonable manner). I know better. She just wants to get tanked up and pass out, and then do it again ad infinitum.

3) Daily or frequent drinking needed to function

See #2. Check.

4) Inability to reduce or stop intake

Big Check. As I type, She Who is Eternally Thirsty has imbibed 7 times in the last 3 hours. "But she might not be getting enough!", you exclaim, your voice heavy with concern. Not so. There is sufficient visual evidence during pauses that all taps are in the Full On position and are flowing quite well. She's one of those. You know the type. It doesn't matter how much there is, she's going to drink until it's all gone or die trying.

5) Violent episodes associated with drinking

Check. These episodes occur at least a third of the time, to include self-abuse and verbal abuse towards her mother and I. Examples include trying to choke herself with a fist and hollering loudly during the dead of night. I'm honestly suprised that no one has called the cops yet. (Secretly, I'm thankful, because then she might think I called them, which would just make things worse.)

6) Drinking secretly

We're okay here, as this is not possible. For now. But she's smart, so I won't discount the possibility that this could be happening.

7) Becoming angry when confronted about drinking

Can I put two checks here? This is a big one (when combined with the similar #5 indicator*). Given that she's nearing one month of age, I figured Tuesday a good time to engage in the inevitable confrontation in an effort to nip this thing in the bud before the problem gets worse and it begins having an adverse effect on her potential future opportunities (see: Permanent Record, a youth coercion favorite).

Let's just say that it wasn't well received. I tried being gentle and reassuring her that we loved her no matter what. I tried for a good ten minutes as she spent the entire time squirming around and looking everywhere else but at me. I was near to giving up, when she looked me right in the eye, messed her pants, and then threw up on me. It wasn't an accident, either. How do I know? She smiled. She thought it was funny, that's how I know.

*Who comes up with these lists? This one is largely the same as #5....the author couldn't have simply substituted an "or" on #5 and shortened the list to 9 instead of ten? Whoever it was obviously wasn't concerned with how that extra digit might make my formatting look wonky, which is nearly the height of offense being that I am, after all, a professional.

8) Poor eating habits

Check. The Beast refuses to eat solid food, driving us to intra-family discussion of re-naming proposals. Nicholas Cage was an early contender, but we're slowly moving over to the Courtney Love camp.

9) Failure to care for physical appearance

Check. Does not care one whit about personal appearance. Would lay in any bodily fluid for an extended period of time if someone let her, and is not interested in hearing about it. See #7.

10) Trembling in the morning

Not exactly sure with this one, but if pressed I'd have to go with "No". After all, when is morning? Is there a morning, really, for someone who demands the sauce every one to three hours (give or take 1 hour)? For my part, I've lost any notion of mornings, other than the remnant of some vague intellectual knowledge that the rise of the sun signals its occurence. The new reality is that it's just one long, very long, day.

***************

Uh-oh, I'd better wrap it up for now. She's stirring, and if she sees me typing and telling you all this I'm going to get some more #5 and #7 laid on me. Who am I kidding? I'm likely to get them, regardless.

I'm contemplating future essays in an effort to deal with this abuse, including, but not necessarily limited to, "Fighting Your Baby: Gloves or Bare-Knuckle, which is appropriate, and when?", and, "Mothers as Enablers: A Frank Discussion"

Stay Tuned.