Life Force(d)

I was one of those people who have always loved kids. At 18 when my buddies were just trying to get laid, I was imagining what my kids would look like and thinking of names for them.

I knew deep down that there was something a bit off tangent in the way I thought and felt but still I went on fantasizing about having kids of my own. People who I shared this with always told me to bide my time and that I was right to think that having children was the best feeling in the world and about how they inspire you to be a better human being and blah blah blah...

Like so many idiots with their heads up in the clouds I was in love with the 'idea' of seeing the fruits of my loins made flesh before my eyes.

 I had no fucking inkling that it was a lifetime gig you didn't walk away from and that essentially your life as you once knew it, was over.
Well, you 'know' it of course, after all you have 9 or so months to get used to the idea of it. But the reality (and maybe gravity) of your situation starts to dawn on your ass when you realize that the person you'd always thought you'd be, things you always thought you'd have, places you always thought you'd go, are now either improbable or impossible.

Example: Never in my wildest dreams did I ever envisage myself a single dad (ala soccer mum) sitting outside a school waiting for children of my own.

One thing 'they' never tell you, is how your offspring will eat your dreams of grandeur and drain your energy like 'Lestat' (the non sparkly type vampire for those out of the loop) sucking the blood from a Creole whore in New Orleans.

With my 42nd birthday racing to choke hold me at speeds of light, it was supposed to be recording '3 albums at a time' contracts, sold out concerts all the time and Limo rides to the Grammy's with groupies by now.

Instead, it's washing 3 bums after they take a crap, sold out my pride and dignity some time ago and practically a school bus driver fitting in nicely with groups of other loser dads.

Take today, Wednesday, for example.

All 3 of my boys finish school in 3 different time zones.
The period between each final bell is not far enough apart that I can leave each time one of my boys 'decides to come out and grace me with his presence', but long enough for me to bake medium to well done in 40'C temperatures depending of course on cloud formations.

The fact that my car air condition is busted is just the whipped cream on my yummy bowl of dog shit served by life.



I sometimes wonder: If I had 'that DeLorean', would I change a single thing?



Not a single fucking detail.




Well, maybe my car's air con would work.


That would be nice.