Genesis Sucks/Letter To Katie
01.12.06 (12:16 am) [edit]Listening to Calling All Stations, the last Genesis album. First time in a couple years. Wow. They really aren't very good anymore, are they? I WORSHIPPED these fuckers for a long time, and they used to be worth it. It's been a long time, though. I derive some twisted enjoyment from this album, just because I'm so familiar with these guys that even their rancid cabbage farts sound sorta vaguely OK, and because I really like Ray Wilson's voice. But man, Banks and Rutherford are two tired old men. It's hard to believe this album is over 8 years old now. I gauged my life around these guys. They made me into a musician. They changed my life. And now...they really kinda suck. Eight years ago? Fucking Christ. I remember buying this album the day it came out, driving home all excited over it. And slowly losing my enthusiasm. Eight years ago? Fuck, I'm getting old...
What I wish I could say to Katie right now:
Honey, I know it's hard for us to be apart, but I really think it's going to be good for us both in the long run, and Mommy too. I think about you all the time, and I miss you terribly when I'm away for a whole week, but I never, ever stop loving you. I think I love you more now than ever. Every day I know more of why you are important to me, why I love you.
I didn't want to be so far away from you, but I feel that I have to do things for myself, and in doing those things I'll set an example for you. I don't want you to be afraid of being yourself, of taking chances, of doing things that other people close to you might not approve of. You have to follow YOURSELF. Some people try to get you to stop following yourself. They try to make you like them. Fuck those wretched shitbag assholes.
(OK, I wouldn't really say that last sentence to a four-year old. Just seeing if you're paying attention.)
When your Mommy asked me to leave, she was doing something for herself, and for you. She knew that we couldn't be happy the way we were. And I knew she was right, even though it hurt me an awful lot to have to admit that. She wasn't happy. I remember when Mommy was happier, and she was a lot of fun to be around. And you know what? I see that in her again now, since I left. I know your Mommy is a lot happier now, and that makes me happy, because I never wanted to hurt her or make her sad. But I DID. Sometimes this happens, honey. We do things we don't mean to do. And sometimes the only way to stop is to have somebody stop it for you.
It's sad that you had to be caught in the middle of this. That your life has had to change so much. But I really do think you'll be happier in the end. We didn't want you to grow up with a Mommy and Daddy who were always upset with each other. That would be worse for you. I know that might be hard to understand or believe right now, but it's true. My mommy and daddy were always upset at each other, and they've stayed together, but I grew up wishing they hadn't. I hated the tension that was always between them, and wanted to scream at them to go the fuck away and leave me and each other alone. Now that we're all older, I'm glad they are together. They are doing better now, if not as good as i'd wish. but when i grew up I knew they didn't love each other the way they should, and it made me sad. I think we'd all have been happier if we'd lived apart. but they made the decision to stay together, and now it finally seems right that they did. It didn't for years.
(Oh fuck. One of the few good songs on Calling All Stations just started. Not About Us. A rather sappy ballad, but I rather like it. I remember a time when it made me think of someone else. Now it makes me think of Sheryl. Damn. Nice song.)
I wasted a lot of years, Katie. I stayed in my room and didn't go out much. I didn't LIVE much. I was a fucking pussy. Oh, that's right. You're four. I can't say that. But this is getting really serious and I have to amuse my readers somehow, so bear with me, OK?
I took this as my chance to make up for those years. To try to reclaim what I thought i'd lost. You see, I hated myself for the five years I was with Mommy and you. I loved you guys, but I hated myself. Because I wasn't being who I thought I was supposed to be. And now that I CAN be that person, I have to do it, because that's one of the few things I think I'm worth two hairy fucking shits at teaching you. Oops. Bad words again. Just don't say them in front of Mommy or your teacher. OK, sweetheart?
I'm not good at showing you a lot of the things I wish I could, but I CAN show you how to be funny, and how to be your own person. That counts for a lot, even if I totally fucking suck at showing you your AB-fucking-Cs. Dammit. There I go with those fucking bad words again.
(The Dividing Line. Which PRETENDS to be 70s-style Genesis. Actually, a 12-year old could come up with this mongolid-level harmonically-stale unadventurous horseshit. In fact, I think I wrote it when *I* was 12. Fucking Tony Banks. You used to not suck! Damn you!)
i don't know what's going to happen here in indianapolis, honey. I might fuck the whole thing right in the ass. but it feels like it's OK. I feel like I'm getting somewhere. Slowly, but it's happening. I taught five guitar students tonight. For the first time in years. I made money. I made music. It ain't slamming pentatonic scales on Cream covers with Guinness on tap up at the bar for half price on breaks while drunken blondes show you their tits, but It beats the fuck out of working in a goddamn warehouse for 8 bucks a fucking hour, and if you are doing that when YOU are 35, I'm cutting you out of the will and leaving all my shit to someone else.
I was just kidding, honey. I don't care what you do when you're 35 as long as you are happy and not hurting anyone else. Besides, you don't want any of my shit anyway. i already willed all my Molly Hatchet 8-tracks to your Uncle Spoooooooock when he left for California, that lucky fucking bastard.
(If I actually talked this way to my daughter, I'd have Ozzy's money by now, dontcha think?)
I'm trying to do for myself, and BE myself, because I need to be, and because you need to see that. Even if I DO fuck it all up. It's better to fuck up than not to fuck at all. Or something like that. Shit, I don't know. Hey, you're 4, you're not actually reading this, and somebody else out there is having a good laugh. What the fuck, eh, honey?
You need a Daddy who is out there being his own person. Not a Daddy sitting in the basement drinking and wishing he was somewhere else. We got by for four years like that, because I was able to hide it from you. It wouldn't have lasted much longer. You would have seen through me, and known how much of a pathetic shit I was. I think you kinda knew anyway. Your mommy sure had it figured out. But she's smarter than me anyway. Be glad you're with her. I'll always do my best for you, but my best is still pretty shitty compared to Mommy's worst. She can take care of you in ways that I simply can't right now. Maybe someday I can. But not now.
I want to show you so many things, but I have to pace myself. We have limited time, and I mostly want to have fun right now. I want to play you Captain Beefheart albums. I want to show you where your great-grandmother will be buried, probably very soon. I want to drive you to places your ancestors lived. I want to take you to the desert. We can take our shoes off and run in the sand and thank fuck we're not in goddamn Indiana where it can't make up it's mind what temperature it wants to be from day to day. 17! 42! 76! 40 below! Hike!
I want to pull off the side of the road at 9:00 at night 15 miles outside of Roswell, New Mexico and look up at the stars together. You won't fucking BELIEVE what the sky looks like from there, honey. I want to laugh with you at the goofball in the t-shirt shop in downtown Roswell who has been selling pseudo-alien merchandise to hillbillies in RVs for far too long.
I want to read passages from Lovecraft and Hunter Thompson for you. That'll be a few years, though. i don't want to fuck you up that much just yet. And when you're older, we'll go get drunk at a Keneally concert and yell "Show us your tits, you hairy hunk of man!" OK, Mommy might not like that. But hey, if you're 18, she won't have to know anyway. Right? Besides, she has the hots for Beller. Shit, *I* have the hots for Beller. Who am I kidding?
You're either going to grow up to be a walking Psychology Today back issue, or the most balanced kid in the history of mankind, sweetie. Remember, your daddy is a fucking twisted asshole, but he loves you and will always do his best for you. He's not so good when other people are concerned, but he really, really wants to do things right for you.
Almost ten months ago, you sat in my chair in the basement as I was getting ready to leave home. Most of my things were packed. You sat in the chair I'm sitting in now, and you reached up with the first fingers of each hand to my face. You pulled my mouth into a smile and said, "Stay happy, Daddy." You weren't even four years old. I knew then just how perceptive and soulful you really are. You haven't changed a bit. Heck, if anything, you're even better. Katie, you kick ass. I'm proud to be your daddy. I hope I can make you proud too.
Love,
Daddy