Saturday, May 30, 2009

Saturday with Demons



The children are watching a movie about children who dig an opening to the mouth to hell in their backyard. Kind of like Goosebumps on acid. We certainly are family.

Taking the kiddies to Weehawken tonight, bad movies, lasagna and a game of catch between Jack and Uncle Troy. The Girl and I are going to Washington DC for a class trip beginning on Wednesday morning at four a.m. I'll have to get an alarm clock. Or since the girl and I are both insomniacs maybe we'll just stay up and sleep on the bus. The boy is going to stay with BFI, which means when I get back I'll be paid back in angry 13 year old boy behavior, in spades. I think before his teen years are over I will either be dead from stress, or he'll have been given away to a traveling circus--step right up and see the meanest 13 year boy in captivity.

Katie mama has volunteered me to chaperone another little girl on the trip whose parents can't go. Thank you Kate. Please say a little prayer it's a nice kid and that I don't lose her somewhere. You would think the principal, who is well acquainted with me, would have picked somebody more mother like for this kid.

Happy weekend all.

My Heart

I'm not going to cry all the time
nor shall I laugh all the time,
I don't prefer one "strain" to another.
I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie,
not just a sleeper, but also the big,
overproduced first-run kind. I want to be
at least as alive as the vulgar. And if
some aficionado of my mess says "That's
not like Frank!", all to the good! I
don't wear brown and grey suits all the time,
do I? No. I wear workshirts to the opera,
often. I want my feet to be bare,
I want my face to be shaven, and my heart--
you can't plan on the heart, but
the better part of it, my poetry, is open.

Frank O'Hara

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