Father's Day

So.

This morning I woke up
on my roof.

I woke up because
a thunder storm was starting,
I knew it was serious,
because my pants started
blowing around, and one of
my shoes hit me in the head.

I had gone up last night,
with a bottle of Delirium Tremens,
a sleeping bag,
and a lady.

But that's not the point of this story,
it was just a really cool way to start my day.

Today is Father's day,
and I called my dad
to say hello.

He asked if I had finally
gotten around to updating my blog.

How embarrassing,
even my dad noticed
I've been dropping the ball.

I said yes.

He asked if it was all
about F-ing, and smoking..

and I said.... well.... kinda,
maybe you shouldn't read this one.

But this new post,
this one right now,
this one's for him.

As I get a little older,
I've realized how much
I got from my dad.

Tricks, lessons,
ways of looking at life,
that are a big part of why
I'm able to live how I do and be happy.

I was sleeping on a roof,
and I was happy as a clam.

He somehow instilled in me
a way to look for the little bits
of gold in the dirt of everyday life.

It's hard to explain,
but it has something to do
with garage sales and the Salvation Army.

I find little treasures wherever I go,
and its not just buying used, amazing things,
although that's a huge part of it.

It's finding art in the garbage.

It's paintings, that people have made,
and then given up on, or decided to toss out,
and then left in the alley with their trash.

My apartment is full of them.

I have....let me look,
about 10 pieces of framed art,
that I have paid a total of five dollars for
over the years.

It's that same, "art in the garbage"
mentality that lets me sleep in some strange person's house,
instead of shelling out 60 bucks for a hotel,
because I never know who I'm going to meet,
or what they're going to tell me or show me.

And I can sleep anywhere, and be happy,
because I'm just grateful for the experience.

MY father used to take me
to a big flea market
every Sunday as a kid.

It's one of my favorite
memories of my childhood.

Except for the time
they were spreading manure
on the field next door,
apparently at the exact same
time I made a huge fart,
and I spent the next hour
thinking I had pooped in my pants.

It was just the fun of traveling through
this maze of interesting people and their
tables of interesting stuff.

Garbage mostly,
but not trash,
nothing that should be thrown away.

We waste so much,
but there is so much cool stuff already out there.

My dad collects collections.

Do you know what I mean?

He has stamps, and trains, and fountain
pens, and records, and paintings,
and who knows what else...

As a kid, I had magic tricks,
and Star Wars figures,
and juggling toys, and unicycles.

Now, I look around my apartment,
I've got the records,
and the paintings,
and I'm sure someday I'll
pick up a fountain pen.

There is art in the garbage,
just like there is something
wonderful in every little weird town,
and every little dive bar that I play.

My dad told me I'll have to settle down someday,
but I'm really happy now.

I mean really, really happy,
and I'm pretty much just
living like he taught me to.

happy father's day.

-p