Monday, October 09, 2006
I can't whine about dad.
I refuse to. There's absolutely zero justification for wasting all the effort he put into teaching me how to be a man. I need to start believing the extremely profound crap I feed everyone else just to make em stop whining. The positives must be focused on. They must be.
Iman Ali is hot, for instance. Dad liked her too, Not in a nasty lecherous sense but he deemed her worthy of his vote of confidence. She has a brain besides the bod, you see, hence. Dad had one hell of a taste in women. As it turns out he was quite the playboy when he was young and had a lot more hair. Big ol curls he had, dad was such a looker. To the rather peaceful end, in fact. The ex had sort of a crush on him. One of my sister's friend was quite literally in love with him. I think she had a falling out with my sister because of that. I don't think she knows. I'm sure she'd cry. Sigh, infatuations are funny things, they linger silently like nuclear reactions.
I’ve been writing a lot about dad off late. Makes sense too. And I needed a place to put it all on. The other blog has too much cussing and sexual stuff on it to qualify as a proper setting for remembering dad. It’s the Acerbic crap blog goddamnit and if my dad was some wife beating, beer guzzling hick from hell I’d writer about him there. But Babaji deserves better.
That’s a seedy bar as opposed to this, shiny clean gentleman’s club where I shall come and light up dad’s old Dunhill pipe, sip on a cup of tea with my legs folded left on right properly, throw my head back and recollect his life as best as I can. I need to remember him as he was, strong and resilient and invincible. And even though death may have proved too much of an adversary for his aging body, his soul cannot be tamed as it lives on as robust and as loving as ever in my heart. And the hearts of all those who love him.
It’s a surprisingly huge number. I’m still stunned by the turn out at the funeral. And at the Qul’s. My god! It was like the god father died. Heh.
Dad. Dad Dad Dad. Man, how I wish you were here.
I hope there’s internet in heaven or alam-e-barzakh so you can finally read what I write.
I'm sure heaven has its own computer terminal. With faster internets and hot new computers to boot! Maybe even gaming.
You name it, heaven has it!
shall find out something i can sing in his name..or may be you could tell me what he really liked ??