my dad just called and it literally made me sick. i threw up whatever bile & banana was in my stomach.
i am on my living room floor surrounded my mike kelley interviews and the exhibition catalogue. i am callous to the vibrations since everyones texting thanks, but then it start to ring. i hesitate. i anticipate this being an awkward conversation. it turned out even more awkward than imaginable. he tells me he just left the church group where they spending their mornings with the elderly at some nursing home in keansburg. it seems like he's just sharing his days, i sigh. too early for relief. then he asks me to come home. i tell him, "no daddy, i'm knee deep in writing and i have two papers to string together by monday and i need to concentrate." then he gets all blown up and proud, asks who i am writing on and offers to come to my apartment to help me sort out my thoughts and discuss jung's red book that he's getting me for christmas. i feel disgustingly pushed and baited for his sake of being lonely. i keep repeating how i need to concentrate and how i basically forgot today was thanksgiving. i fed him some half bullshit about today being a great day for self-reflection since everything is closed and the capitalistic machine allows us some rest. he buys it, painfully. i can hear he is lonely. i am selfish, but setting my foot into that house especially with my sister and mother being gone parallels to the pain of a bear trap. he says he needs me to come home tomorrow to watch the dogs 'cause he has a lot of appointments... i hold my ground and repetitively say i have to concentrate on these deadlines and produce something of value. i hardly get work done in that depressing place. i reassure him if its an emergency, i will pause my writing and look after the pups. i know he only have 2 appointments one at 1 & 6 which he can totally come home in between. i know it's just a reason to make me as miserable as he feels, thus giving him some solace. he talks about my mom abandoning us. i want to cry and hang up. i don't do either. i steady myself for his sake. he's really upset i'm not going to see him. i tell him i threw up last night, throat is sore, my head hurts and driving is not an option. his voice shows he understands. he steps out of himself. he acts like a father for less than a minute. i enjoy it. he says "enjoy your writing and peace of mind." i answer, "you too. bye daddy."click.
i wish i was better, but the reality is that i am not; neither is he. one day soon, i'll be strong enough to uncart his burdens and carry them myself. soon is debate-able, one day is concrete. i want to say we are polar opposites, sadly that is not the case. i hope there is no way you can read this.