I went to a lot of effort there. I went and purchased a damn syringe. I went and purchased a rose. I went and sucked my own blood into syringe and took a photo on my shitty $100 cellphone before the blood went all brown.
And not one of you internet using lay abouts bothered saying “hey, that’s a nice picture”.
Anyway, sorry about that.
I am a little bored still, but getting over it. Things are going okay. Have started reading, have started doing things. Limbo is slowly reverting to light at end of tunnel. There is always a light at the end of a straight tunnel.
Trouble is, this tunnel is more like a corkscrew. Tunnel of life.
Does prejudice happen if the subject of prejudice is unaware of others prejudice?
Just a thought. Call me Plato. And pin a tail on me.
Today was the first day of my daughters football. Her Mum and me managed to get it together enough to organise and pay for these sessions. Awesome fun. It was hot after school today and the ground was too hard for her boots, so was somewhat disgruntled with me for not allowing her long stud boots on her feet. But then she saw a black spider the size of a golf ball come out when her “not at all scared of spiders, really” Dad went hunting for the source of the white silk webbing around the tongue of the boot.
Happily, grinning from ear to ear, she ran off to play in her old running shoes.
I had a good run around myself. Was “piggy in the middle” for twenty minutes with four youngsters keeping the ball away from me… Played “ball boy” for everyone after that, apart from tackling one little flash Asian kid whom no one could tackle. Not even the proper football players. This kid has ball control skills from hell. Luckily, I did not have to use elbows, dirty tactics, or anything. Luckily I did not kick his shin. Nothing. Just took that ball off him. Legally even. My daughter said something bordering on being proud… “That’s my dad” she said… Wow. Taking a ball from a really talented 13 or 14 year old really should be simple. But it wasn’t. He was good. Taking the ball off him without touching him was quite a thing. Guess the youngsters appreciated it from a purists perspective as much as the coach whom turned to watch.
Went back to being ball boy… Apart from once… Some kid kicked the ball real hard, missed the goal and missed the ball boy. Had to go run and get it. So, there we are, well behind the goal, and use a left foot with a bit of a hook around the left side of the goal, over the entire field of players and land the ball in the middle of the far goal. I mean THE MIDDLE. Like, not left, not right, but middle. Someones Dad who saw it said “I bet you weren’t aiming there…”. His kid said “wow, that was a great shot”. Some other kids the ball past at half way turned and looked like “holy shit” would have come out. If only Mum wasn’t there…. Some other kids Mum said something about me playing for the “real teams, you got that ball going like a banana…..”. I ran off to get another wayward ten year old toe punt… It was a good kick. Probably about 60m in total, or almost 200ft. It started heading off a good 3 or 4m to the left of the far goal. It went around the left of the closest goal by a couple of metres, but landed right in the middle of the far goal.
I LOVE FOOTBALL.
I love the way my little girl doesn’t show any fear and stopped a whole lotta goals from from really competitive boys whom have been playing for ages.
I love the fact my daughter obviously looks at without embarrassment and with somewhat of a fondness. Even though her Dad is the only idiot running around more than the coaches. She did well.
She did well not only with the football. But with the relationship with me.
I am grateful that I am not in a wheelchair.
I am grateful that I just got a text from my daughters Mum… Something like “Yes, she came walking up the road with a great grin on her face. Said she really enjoyed herself. Thanks for organising it…”
If allowed to be more of a Dad, there would be no time for using drugs NOR fretting about being bored.