alter ego ergo sum
This blog is mostly autobiographical in that, in addition to original haiku, surrealist rants and ad hoc word droppings, there are frequent references to real-life events contained herein. I use the qualifier mostly because these events are deliberately cast in a decidedly dark light. In other words, Extra Special Bitter is a blog persona which allows me to indulge an oppressively pensive perspective, one which, while accurate, is not 100% of the whole.
The feelings I have about my eldest daughter’s wedding, my son and daughter’s departure for college and my youngest sons’ continued incarceration with their mother are undeniably complex, composed of unequal parts of joy, pride, frustration, anguish, amprehension and grief. So while I am somewhat sad to see my daughter married, I’m also genuinely excited to see her wide-eyed excitement as she begins a new phase of her life. It’s a sign of success as a parent to see one’s children taking bold steps into adulthood.
Extra Special Bitter is blind to this hope, thinking it so much Hallmark fluff. He sees his daughter’s wedding in the mirror of his own disastrous first marriage, never considering the possibility that she may have a greater capacity to overcome life’s obstacles than he did at the same age. As such, the marriage is a pure aching loss, overwhelming his every waking thought with a paralyzing grief.
The real-life counterpart to Extra Special Bitter beamed with pride while walking his daughter down the aisle, and then presented her to the Minister with a kiss on her cheek and a whispered "I love you" in her ear.
I liken it to my music collection: Bauhaus’ 1979-1983: Volume One sits on the shelf right next to the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds. Portishead’s eponymous debut is adjacent to Frosting on the Beater by the Posies. I like the inane bubblegum pop of the Pooh Sticks every bit as much as the shimmering noise of My Blooding Valentine.
In other words, I embrace both side of the Force.
This blog is mostly autobiographical in that, in addition to original haiku, surrealist rants and ad hoc word droppings, there are frequent references to real-life events contained herein. I use the qualifier mostly because these events are deliberately cast in a decidedly dark light. In other words, Extra Special Bitter is a blog persona which allows me to indulge an oppressively pensive perspective, one which, while accurate, is not 100% of the whole.
The feelings I have about my eldest daughter’s wedding, my son and daughter’s departure for college and my youngest sons’ continued incarceration with their mother are undeniably complex, composed of unequal parts of joy, pride, frustration, anguish, amprehension and grief. So while I am somewhat sad to see my daughter married, I’m also genuinely excited to see her wide-eyed excitement as she begins a new phase of her life. It’s a sign of success as a parent to see one’s children taking bold steps into adulthood.
Extra Special Bitter is blind to this hope, thinking it so much Hallmark fluff. He sees his daughter’s wedding in the mirror of his own disastrous first marriage, never considering the possibility that she may have a greater capacity to overcome life’s obstacles than he did at the same age. As such, the marriage is a pure aching loss, overwhelming his every waking thought with a paralyzing grief.
The real-life counterpart to Extra Special Bitter beamed with pride while walking his daughter down the aisle, and then presented her to the Minister with a kiss on her cheek and a whispered "I love you" in her ear.
I liken it to my music collection: Bauhaus’ 1979-1983: Volume One sits on the shelf right next to the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds. Portishead’s eponymous debut is adjacent to Frosting on the Beater by the Posies. I like the inane bubblegum pop of the Pooh Sticks every bit as much as the shimmering noise of My Blooding Valentine.
In other words, I embrace both side of the Force.
The feelings I have about my eldest daughter’s wedding, my son and daughter’s departure for college and my youngest sons’ continued incarceration with their mother are undeniably complex, composed of unequal parts of joy, pride, frustration, anguish, amprehension and grief. So while I am somewhat sad to see my daughter married, I’m also genuinely excited to see her wide-eyed excitement as she begins a new phase of her life. It’s a sign of success as a parent to see one’s children taking bold steps into adulthood.
Extra Special Bitter is blind to this hope, thinking it so much Hallmark fluff. He sees his daughter’s wedding in the mirror of his own disastrous first marriage, never considering the possibility that she may have a greater capacity to overcome life’s obstacles than he did at the same age. As such, the marriage is a pure aching loss, overwhelming his every waking thought with a paralyzing grief.
The real-life counterpart to Extra Special Bitter beamed with pride while walking his daughter down the aisle, and then presented her to the Minister with a kiss on her cheek and a whispered "I love you" in her ear.
I liken it to my music collection: Bauhaus’ 1979-1983: Volume One sits on the shelf right next to the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds. Portishead’s eponymous debut is adjacent to Frosting on the Beater by the Posies. I like the inane bubblegum pop of the Pooh Sticks every bit as much as the shimmering noise of My Blooding Valentine.
In other words, I embrace both side of the Force.
posted by extraspecialbitter at 2:33 PM
5 Comments:
It's like when I go to a restaurant: I can't decide between the salad or the steak.
don't we instincively react hallmarkally to a lot of stuff that happens to us but only despise it as hallmarkish because that is what that brand advertises? we did react hallmarkishly even before that adjective exist.
i dunno if it's clear but.....it's nice to hear a proud father...hum...
...and when disappointment does occur, it is expected as a by-product of a cold, uncaring world.
I feel better already...
The dissapointment of manhood succeeds the delusion of youth.
...which means that my life has either come full circle or has spiraled completely out of control.
Post a Comment
<< Home