-That polaroid is getting ruined.
-Yeah.
-You should keep it in one of those dark boxes for photos.
-Nope.
-It's getting too much sun on the wall there.
-Thank you, Captain Obvious!
That's when he got wise and changed the subject.
A carefully preserved photograph in excellent condition where I never look at it, or a slowly ruined photograph on the wall where I smile at it every day while it lasts?
I stand by my decision.
I'd say 85% of the time, here are things that I believe:
Everything is ephemeral: experiences, things, relationships. This is oddly reassuring instead of frightening.
Even the 15% of black dogs barking is ephemeral, and I just have to wait it out.
Most people are trying their best most of the time.
Oh, and one more:
Fuck the "What If" game, it's a waste of time.
It's worthwhile and fulfilling to play "What If" with the future, dreams and goals are beautiful to have. But playing "What If" with the past is a pointless endeavor...that ship has sailed, homes.
This is not the same as forgetting or not caring- I actually think this attitude has deepened my appreciation for memories, because I can remember them sweetly or neutrally, instead of trying to fix them and/or poke myself in the eye.
So here's some stuff that I've enjoyed remembering about Greg today on his birthday:
He was super vain about the six pack he cultivated after getting sober, and would mow the lawn shirtless.
Greg watched TV laying on his side on the floor, with a paper plate for an ashtray, and he had the elbow callous to prove it.
At Ralph's he would always get Red Vines for me, cake donuts for Dillon, and Oreos for Cesar. Dillon and I have always been such repetitive eaters, Greg never realized that Cesar got so sick of Oreos that he looked at them cross-eyed for years after we moved out.
I was horribly embarrassed as a kid because my parents were both incorrigible flirts; somehow, I've become one too.
Along those lines, one time Greg shamelessly used me as a prop when we ran into Katharine Ross in the 80s at the pet store on Crescent Heights. She was very charming.
I knew he liked Pong and Pac-Man back in the day, but it was still surprising when he came to visit New York one time and ended up playing some Godfather playstation game with Cesar for like 4 hours straight, while it got dark outside and I whined about how hungry I was.
We used to play skeeball for hours at Kiddieland before there was the Grove. He had a special bank shot, which I still use.
He used to do this crazy dance during the opening song of shows like Boston Legal and In Living Color.
Maybe some of that stuff I've talked about before, but I think most of it I haven't - either because it seemed inconsequential or because it felt like digging around in a wound. What a great sense of gratitude that I have to be able to type easily, with a smile on my face, remembering my daddio on his birthday. Nothing is inconsequential, and it doesn't have to hurt.
Happy birthday, daddio.
