One of the things they don't tell you about being a dad is the amount of poop that gets on your hands. I woke up to the dog having an I door accident and the littlest guy had a brimming diaper bomb when he awoke. I've washed my hands raw, wish I could wash my nostrils out too.
In 1996 I discovered #kerosene454 , at the time I was working at a chocolate factory on the east side of buffalo. I used to ride my bicycle for the commute through some of Buffalo's roughest neighborhoods. Like most of my life if I wasn't actually in a conversation I was wearing headphones. I taped this cd and it was a pedaling soundtrack for a good chunk of that year. I had an opportunity to go to NYC that winter with the plan of seeing this band play a show with Texas is the Reason and Bluetip. I made the show late and only caught the last two songs of Kerosene 454's set. I was bummed and thrilled at the same time. They were powerful and precise live and I ignored my company the minute we walked in. He handed me a beer and I nodded but never took my eyes off the band. I guess that was kind of a dick move but this show was kind of my Woodstock, especially at that time of my life. I was still reeling from a heart crushing breakup and back home I was shoplifting to eat because chocolate was barely covering the rent. My friend had actually bought me the train ticket for the trip and had paid my cover and just bought me a beer. I should have been groveling thanks but instead I stood there focused on the band and ignoring him. My cheeks are flush with shame even now.
You can wash shit off your hands but you can't wash the dumb, ignorant shit you've done off your heart.
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