Monday, September 3, 2012

Days away from A-273 Room #346 and it actually starts at home idiot

First day of school for all the kids, remember when you where a kid, remember your first grade teacher? Mine was a demon, she thought I was retarded. She was mean to me and I'm sure I was weird. I never settled down, I always stood out and tried to have things done my own way. My son's going to french school and it's great. I'm going to make sure he's gonna be there on time. That makes me laugh, cause I'm so scared I won't be able to catch up. That's also the most reassuring thing knowing, you're always trying to be at your best. School is a biggie but I've been reading to him. Lot's! Today I tried to keep up with him on my skateboard he was on his bike and my ankle hurt. Fuck! I can only be so aggressive, he's gonna have an endless mountain of energy. He's just this little packed ball of life. It's immense, he'll stare you down and get what he wants. He just wants to be six. It's not fare. It not fare being six and seeing such a perfect world in front of you, it's not fare having your world stolen from you. He's gonna want to have what's his.
I wonder what my grandsons first day of school will consist of. There is a lot of butchers out there, cutting their way engraving their version of Lowood into our society. It's o.k though, he's going to be loved. Love is how we get to know the intricacies of the design.
Love hurts, it gives people tension, causes muscles to bend and grab at one another. It's exciting and gorgeous. First days of school are exciting.
He's gonna come back someone else, someone built to fit in, to survive the machinery of our culture, our sick dirty mill of corruption. It starts at school.

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