Journals of Lord Malinov

the poetry of madness

tunes

 I took a new office, on a different face of the building.  I look directly at the building opposite, but the construction of the building is such that my building is reflected in a single column of windows while the rest of the mirror surface shows the landscape behind my view.  Curiously wonderful.

"You know how you and Mom used to fight?" asked my boy.  I assented.  "Well, Mom and the doofus get into big fights."

"That's too bad," I respond appropriately.

"Not for me," he replies.  "I don't like the doofus."

He didn't say doofus.  The names have been changed to protect the stupid.

In a deep conversation with my other son, I explained to him that every one was more-or-less crazy.

"Of course, some people are really, really crazy."

"Like the doofus," he added, much to my surprise.

I never speak badly about the alcalde to the kids - I avoid the subject as best as I can without ignoring it.  Smart kids despise stupid authority with a severe passion. 

Lately, he looks like someone cut his balls off.  What a loser.  Scum de la scum.

My daughter told my eX that she is going to move in with us, if the bull spit didn't stop.  We're preparing to take the kids full time.  My eX exudes bull spittle.  She needs time to pull herself together.  I know I did.

Elara wasn't over this long weekend, which was different and sad.  She's become one of us - a spark of delight in a conflagration of madness.

Enjoy,

David

posted by: Malinov at 11:56 | link | comments |

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