Atomictumor

So, I never made that concert.

I had made all the necessary preparations.  Daco and his wife were coming over to put the kids in bed, and I’d take off for N. Knoxville around 7:30 or so.  I was anticipating the freaky surrealness of seeing a one man show of The Robot Ate Me at some weird little residential house that nobody’s ever heard of, and I felt like it was something that I was compelled to do, simply because of the circumstances of finding it, and a couple of points where the music of the band fit into BJ’s life and death in interesting ways for me that’d take too long to explain now.

So, it was almost a kinda pilgrimage for me.  I wasn’t really into the drive down there, and I wasn’t feeling great, kinda worn out like I’ve been a lot lately, but I was determined to do it.

So, we ended up (the boys and I) going to pal’s house to hang out for a few hours before Daco showed, and we all had a great time.  Pigpen was acting sleepy and under the weather, and MastaG’s stomach was hurting.  Another friend or two showed up, and we were sipping beers on the porch.  It was a damn nice time, and it occurred to me that it’d be silly to leave what is a good time for something that only may be a good time.  I wasn’t crazy about ditching the boys, so we stayed.  I called Daco, and met his wife at our house to let em know that we wouldn’t be needing their services.

So, we had some steaks over there, and I missed the show.  I wrote an email to Ryland of the band in appease the compulsion to see the show, which in hindsight seems silly, but hell, why not.

So, we’re sitting out on the back porch, chatting, finishing our steak and beer, and I rolled up a cigarette.  Yes, I’ve been doing a little bit of this, on the sly (I need a vice).  MastaG has some determined opinions vis a vis cigarette smoking, and he ended up sneaking up on us as we were talking and I was smoking.  I tried to play it off, but it didn’t really work, and on the drive home he grilled me.  I gave up the game, and told him “Yes, G, I have been smoking.”

He broke down and cried.  He yelled at me, saying “Don’t you know that’s bad for you????  Why are you doing something bad for you???”

How can I explain?  It reminds me of times gone past, when BJ was here and I was happier?  It eases my stress which is damn near constant these days?  It provides pretty much my only vice (since I’m not, ahem, having nighttime liaisons anymore)?

I thought of those reasons, the justifications for smoking that I give myself, and realized that none of them would pass muster with the 10 year old.  I was irritated.

I was pissed, actually.  I was pissed that I was busted, I was pissed that he was making such a big deal out of it, I was pissed that he’s been hounding me for months trying to find out if I was smoking or not.  I wanted to yell at him, turn it all back on the boy, give him the 3rd degree.  “Boy”, I’d say “do you have any idea what I go through?  If you had a lick of sense, you’d just let this go and let me go on doing what I want to do”

Instead, I gave him the pack of tobacco and rolling papers.  I promised to never smoke a cigarette again.  He banged the pack with his fist a few times, and threw it in the garbage.

Vices are overrated, anyway.

—

Last night, just after tucking in a very, very sleepy Pigpen and a now appeased (but still somewhat distrustful) MastaG, Pigpen woke up and puked all over the place.  He had a fever.  I cleaned him up, while he sobbed, and tucked him into a cozy bed on the living room couch.  All of us ended up staying home today, because G said he wasn’t feeling good either, and I’m just waiting for him to pop up with a fever.  Pigpen hasn’t puked since last night, and his fever went away (without medicine) an hour ago or so, but he’s still worn out.

The first few drops of rain are hitting the quiet roof in my bedroom.  Its dark outside, and it occurs to me how lucky I am, and how much I love.