Out of the Sketchbook
2 days ago
For the Last Goddamn Time, I am familiar the definition of "Leider". Cranky Pants for Everyone
Can you believe it's been half a year? I wonder how you are: You, B, all your grandkiddos, all your summer shenanigans.
I need you to do something, please.: take B out to see Joss Whedon's movie Much Ado About Nothing. (Whedon's the bloke who wrote and directed The Avengers. He's a huge favorite director of mine. Shot it in black & white, in two weeks with friends/actors from other projects, at his own CA house.)
Roberta & I had been waiting for it since it was a rumor and now that it's here and I've seen it, I have such an ache to talk to her about it. Plus: the actors don't hold back on the physical comedy. (Yeah, yeah: Shakespeare... Blah...blah. Call us the pretentious twits again, but the first ten minutes is always Greek until your brain clicks into the language. It's not you, Pal; everyone needs that ten minutes.)
I'll not put you through a long stupid conversation about it, but I want some other part of the shared genetics in on the good times. Plus, it looks like a perpetual party and when I see that, I think of Mum talking about your shared trips to Europe, the excess of wine and cheese sharing, your ability to engage just about anyone in making life a *#$ party. You do love a good time.
Every day is odd, but recently I've felt the need to live less passively. Maybe one doesn't start in that direction until they've lost a person at the tiller. The skies are more interesting colors, good books are just a bit better, everything feels dialed up a bit.
(Let me tell you, it does make California seem even more wacky. Or maybe it's because of Gay Pride Month in San Fran, which I had to explain to Pop over blackberry pie yesterday. Boy, THAT was an interesting 25 minutes! Needless to say, I'm not taking him to next week's Parades.)
With Scott being so much a part of what I hold dearest, I do understand how Mum deeply loves you. (Not in past tense: loves.) That part, Chuck, I totally get.
I think of you showing up that day in the hospital, how happy it made Mum, how glorious the gesture, how it was the exactly right and perfect thing. You were splendid. Well done, Chuck.
What else can I add, this Sunday morning, typing this in bed on a dinky iPhone keyboard? Da's still weird and grieving but often quite happy. Mark is...not sure/have not seen him, but he's tending his fruit trees much like your dad and putting up huge quantities of jam like your mum. Anything refusing to gel becomes spectacular BBQ sauce. Odd talents, that boy. He makes a great dad, I'll give him that.
Scott and Sarah are gallivanting the globe having big, shiny Buddhist adventures in distant lands. Steven & I are salivating, waiting for a quiet vacation at the coast in a month. All of it continues. Strange, ain't it?
Anyhoo: there's my request. If you just hate hate hate the movie, hit me up for ticket reimbursement and I'll owe you a bottle of some oddball Chianti and four squelchy overripe avocados to hurl at me.
Give my love to Ms. B and here's a hug for you. Be well and have another extraordinary summer.