Insomnia Mon Amour

Once again I have no desire to go to bed, no desire to sleep, while all around this small corner of the world sleeps and sleeps and clouds fill the sky and rain moves in…

It’s also one of those nights when I wonder if all I know is false. What if all I think I know, all that seems so real, is false? What if it’s all illusion? What do I really know anyway? Faith, hope, love – real enough, but together they can seem thin when all around is dark and this small corner of the world keeps its rhythm, a rhythm I can never seem to count.

Next Sunday is our ‘Father’s Day’, which, given the synchronicity of the universe, coincides with many graduations from many various schools, so we get the idiotic ‘Dads and Grads’. Never too much at home in any given church, I find ‘Father’s Day’ especially repellent. We don’t care about Fatherhood all that much. The cultural image of Father is a Well Meaning Bumbler, not much more than an adolescent who has swollen over time. Wife is in that case a kind of mother to this overgrown toddler, so that Dad is more or less indistinguishable from The Kids.

That would be annoying, of course, were it not for ‘Mother’s Day’, when we celebrate ‘Mom’ by perhaps taking her out to lunch, or making her a ceramic mug, or buying her a diamond.

Diamonds are magic. They make women love men who would otherwise pass unnoticed.

Where was I? O yes.

I hate ‘Father’s Day’, hate the rhetoric of ‘Dads’, hate the sentimentality, hate the veneer of respect for Fathers while such a day actually signifies contempt and commercial duplicity. Then too I hate the assumption that we should all be grateful for our various ‘Dads’. For my part, the only way I can honor my father is by not hating him. If he were alive, not hating him would be that much more difficult, so it’s a good thing he’s dead.

How is your night?

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