Jobs

My father was a singer. He traveled Europe with some other singers, bumming rides and praising God and making his vocal chords grow like biceps. He was good, and is good, and I'll hate the day when he isn't good. It's his thing, his paintbrush, his 67 Chevy, his elected position because lots of people think they sound good, but my dad KNOWS he sounds good and he ain't ashamed.

My father was a printer. He loved drafts and rulers and pencils and desks with lamps attached and working hard and seeing what he created roll of the press in its bright yellow, blue and red ink with steam, metaphorical steam, surrounding him. He put up with the boss from hell who didn't appreciate him or maybe appreciated him too much but either way he came home everyday to a wife who cooked him hot meals and told him everything was ok. What else can you say?

My father was a telephone marketer. He took orders from people all over the country and he gave them what they wanted and what they didn't know they wanted and what they didn't know that they probably didn't want. But he sold it to them anyways. And he was good. He knew he was good and I think that's what he likes in any job: to know that he is good at it. It doesn't have to be being President and after all, he wouldn't like it because what President ever honestly did a good job?

My father was a purchaser. I still barely know what that means but he does and he does it well. Or did it well. He got laid off. it didn't really mean much to me but it did to him. Like a slap in the face and a short simple "You didn't do good enough". What's that supposed to mean? And who has that right? Capitalism can be a bitch.

My father is a handyman. He holds a house together like Atlas or the freaking Kings' Men (if they were better at puzzles). All this time I thought he was a masochist or a workaholic or some O.C.D. patient but I get it now. He's good at it.

My dad is good at what he does. All the time. And if he isn't he pays someone else to do it. Isn't that what everyone wants? To be good at something, anything? I know it's what I want.

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Been watching some spoken word poetry by a guy named Anis and I decided to make an improv poem so here you go.

p.s. here's some anis

Coconut Records

I don't know if I actually like this band, but I love their music videos. Look them up and enjoy these videos.





P.S. In case you didn't guess, I'm pretty obsessed with Mark Gonzales

Pseudonyms

I have decided that a pen name does not suit this blog. I don't use any SEO, and I link to this on my facebook profile, so it is meant more for my friends and acquaintances than for the public. So to avoid any confusion, it is I, Brendan L (I avoid using my last name because it is an easy way to avoid the personal matters of my life being easily searched).

P.S. To those who were curious the name Nelson Hawkins was a pen name used in some letters by the late John Brown, a man whom I admire and detest at the same time.