XIII. DEATH

butches in SF

"I remember, growin' up, at night, my dad would sit in the kitchen with all the lights out, and he'd wait for me to come in. And he'd sit there and drink, and I'd stand in the driveway and I'd look in through the screen door and I could see the light of the cigarette, and then I'd rush up on the porch and try to get by him, and he'd always call me back. And it was like he was always... always angry. Always mad. He'd be sittin' there thinkin' about everything that he wasn't ever gonna have, until... until he'd get me thinkin' like that too. And I'd lay up in my bed, at night, I'd be starin' at the ceiling, and I'd feel like if somethin' didn't happen, if somethin' didn't happen soon, it felt like I was just gonna... like someday, like I was just gonna..."

The fag of the day is Paul McCartney!