Thursday, October 16, 2008

Golden age

Zenella is eight today. I have been a father for eight years. That is long enough for it to have become something I am, rather than something I try to do.

Like most things I am, I'm not very good at it, but I'm stuck with it.

Still, she knows she is loved, and in turn she can show love, to her brother and sister, her relations, her friends, to Mrs Zen and to me. She is good at it. I do not know what else of value you are supposed to achieve.


So the veggie meals and hostels in KL and Melaka are booked, I have spending money and there's a freezer full of food for Mrs Zen to work the microwave magic on.

I'm hoping a month off the weed will help my chest. If it doesn't, I'm probably fucked. So to make up for not smoking, I expect I'll have to drink heavily. Luckily, the UK is jampacked with pubs, specifically for that purpose. Hooray! I know that most of the few readers of this blog are American or otherwise impaired, but if you happen to be in southern England in the next month or so, I'm shouting the first round. Not you, Gunt. You know I'd piss in yours as soon as your back was turned and you don't want that.

I'm furious at the banks. A couple of weeks ago the British pound bought 2.1 Aussie dollars. Now it's 2.5. That's wiped out some of my spending money. And we're paying our tax money to rescue those fucktards!


You know, I love it when someone smiles because of something I did. It beats tears.


At 3:03 pm, Blogger Don said...

I wish. Plus there's this lesbian erotica writer in Brighton I was writing to ...

Oh well. Have a great time. And if you're over there when Obama wins, know I'm smiling in spite of myself.


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