#@edierone

I was tagged on this a while back But I can't find it. So I'm just gonna do it anyway because I think it's fun. And I'm gonna tag some people too. You better do it! Weird is good.

I hate potatoes. Detest. find them utterly disgusting. this is only one of the many ways I am bad at being Irish American. I am also not sexually repressed. As many of you are no doubt aware.

I have mostly forgiven my family for trying to nudge me toward a life of asexual temperate service to mankind when it became apparent around the time I was five that I was oh so very not in the least bit regular or straight.

 I met my sweetheart at a 30 day silent meditation retreat. I talked the whooooole time. She hated me because she was a rule follower. I was kind of smug besides. But we hooked up back in New York.

I've been to Greenland.

I live in Brooklyn 20 blocks from where my great grandparents and grandparents were born and raised. Though they eventually moved out to the burbs. I made my way back here to their adopted homeland. it fits.

I was speaking in sentences at 10 months. But I have a tin ear and still can't read a map.

I have worked as a bus driver and a taxi driver and a cashier and a telemarketer and in all kinds of data crunching jobs and as all types of teachers. I also write things for money occasionally. Tho I prefer to do that work for free.

The pandemic, human suffering aside, was kind of a relief for me. I was born to zoom. I really didn't mind not leaving the house. I miss John Prine like he was my grandpa though.

I don't have a bio relationship with my son. But he looks a lot more like me than he does his birth mother, my wife. Blonde little pale ass chub that he is.

My son has autism. I am a Nurotypical weirdo. Also monolingual and sort of lazy. He has an elaborate collection of glasses and hats and capes that he mixes and matches in front of the mirror.

He's just a regular kid in many ways, if weird, but at barely 5 he plucks by ear more songs on the piano than I could ever hope to learn if I studied and practiced. The other day he was working on something and I realized it was Hey Ya by OutKast. I cannot imagine where he even heard this song. i think it was in a taxi.

My big dream for him when he was a tiny baby was that he would play travel baseball. And we could hump around the tri-state area with bats and helmets in the boot. When I throw him a ball he lets it fly by him and looks at me like I tried to kill him. It is a good thing I am not in charge of things like this.