Childish Things
A Children's Sermon
Toys for Children
How Children grow
Speaks like a Child
Childhood possessions
Childhood obsessions with our childlike wonders
Childhood obsessions with our own children
Childish outlook
With the eyes of a child
Childish habits
A writer is always writing
no matter what state of mind they may be in
And the writer always keeps the current deadline in mind
An example of this is how much I had to drink last night
but was determined to type out an email to a close friend
in answer to their email wondering if I had gotten home OK
At home by 1:30AM, a little topsy, eager to inform the concerned
mother of her own 3 daughters about the safety of her inebriated
friend yesterday, and a little information about my topsy evening of returning home. Am now up at 6AM to type on these topics of "Childish Words".
home (1:30am last night)
home again
home again
Actually Chris and I rode out to Astoria, to O'Hanlon's Irish
Pub at the last subway stop on Ditmars Blvd. Chris came in to
check the place out, wasn't in the mood to stay since he wanted to
get his automobile from his folk's home and go to his own home.
I even offered the fucker the best seat next to the bar, THE BEST!
I used to spend many afternoons and evenings at the BEST seat at
the bar. Can see everything from that spot, people coming and going,
the main TV, can sit back in the chair and relax, and usually during the
week the gorgeously cool bartender Ashley will converse with you frequently. However, the old Irish thug bartender Jimmy seemed to think I was falling asleep and asked me to go home myself. That fucker.
That Old Irish Fucker! I simply wanted to relax and enjoy THE BEST
SPOT at what was once my favorite Irish Pub. Fucker.
Of course, I fell asleep on the train when I switched over at Queensboro
Plaza, woke up at Coney Island as the conducter was practically screaming
for the second or third time "This is the LAST STOP!"
Fuck.
Oh well, I had a good "catnap" to the Coney Island stop, and the ride
back out to Queens wasn't as long as I feared it would be.
However, I had to pee. I felt the urge to do so before the train had
crossed the Manhattan border. I held. And I held. And I had a look of a pissed off stood-up fucker who didn't have the demeanor to be pleasant if anyone dared fuck with him before he arrived at his pre-determined destination. I was tired, I was tired of being an old curmudgeon, I was tired of holding the pressure in my aging bladder, so after watching a few stops go by in lower Manhattan and seeing the platforms fairly empty of citizens, arriving at the 8th St. stop I decide to get off and release the burden on my bladder at the end of the platform (the North End of the N/R/W subway platform behind the steel girder/support is where ther is evidence of fluid on the platform floor...you gotta go, you gotta go...felt like I was fairly clever and hidden, wouldn't have been ticketed for indecent exposure by any means...of course that may have been the effects of having 1 glass wine compliments of St. Peters, 2 large L.I. Iced Teas compliments of Turtle Bay, 1/2 Budweiser and 1/5 of small glass of Jemeson's Whiskey the unfinished compliments of that OLD IRISH FUCKER in Astoria, Queens.
Arrived in Jackson Heights/Elmhurst around 7:30pm, about 1/2 hour before the season-premiere of "24" was regularly broadcast on Channel 5 FOX.
Pretty intense show. I sat with my computer on with a barely begun game of Spider-Solitaire, more intensely focussed on the TV screen. Two episodes were broadcast tonight, and two more are scheduled to be broadcast tomorrow. Kiefer Sutherland as Jack Bauer the CTU agent in the field is a pretty cool character. Tough guy. He's like a Steve McQueen character. Tough guy. My dad and I actually would say "Jack's Back!" when we watched the DVD episodes we rented in Colorado.
When "24" was finished tonight, then Ch. 11 News in the background while I continued to solve the layout of this one particular deal of Solitaire, waiting for the weather with Mr. G (actually on the weekends Joe Ciappi is the fill-in weatherman) and sports with Sal (actually Kip Lewis is the fillin on the weekends for Sal), and now "Friends" is on in the background as I type out my frustrations to you. You are beautiful, you are lovely, you are tolerant, you are fun, you are cool! And you're tough, so tough I would hope to have you with me the next time I even dared think of going to some stupid Irish pub in Astoria, Queens and having to answer with a nod that maybe Yes it was time for me to go home. I didn't want to argue, I didn't care to need to justify me wanting to enjoy the peace and stillness of that old fucker's bar. Oh well, no tip for him. I don't think I gave him any tip. Fucker.
I'm OK now. Flossed, brushed, smoked my last cigarrette outside, and am now empty of any uplifting thoughts for you, you dear, sweet lovely lady.
(END of my childish evening synapsis to friend...full of childish language, revelation, loss of direction, awakening, foolishness, juvenile carelessness)
Wrote some additional topics the other day
that would remind me of memories concerning
children's words that came to thought
An enormous amount of thought went behind this topic
And my general topics are elaborated on some as follows
A Children's Sermon
My father who is a pastor out MidWest whom I just saw for over a month over the holidays, is always good about catering to all age groups at his church, and usually has a special children's sermon every other Sunday. He asks all children below a certain age to come up to the altar where he will attempt to talk to them on their level of understanding and thinking. He then thanks the children for coming up to listen to his "children's version" of the topic he will continue to discuss with the adults for his "regular sermon". It's always an entertaining time to watch my father speak to this group of 10-20 children. His children's sermon is just as thought provoking to the adults as it is the children.
This brought the thought of how much children grow within a short period of time. Amazing how much a former child I had met there once a few years ago. That child is now a teenage male with facial hair.
One of the young children here in NY looked a lot more mature within the month that I was gone. I saw an old friend whom I knew since I was 1 year old on my trip. We've somehow stayed friends for over our 35+ years, and it's always fun to laugh about the same things we laughed about when we were so young. Silly stuff his older brother used to say that would make us howl with laughter, and still did just two weeks ago. I also saw a young mother who used to babysit my brother and I many years ago. We hadn't seen her since then, but she hadn't changed much from my memory. Yet I now stood taller than her. She and I had some good laughs about those babysitting moments, she seemed to think that she had hit my brother and I with a spatula. That made me laugh, and apologize to her for thinking that. I mentioned that two young boys, pastor's kids at that, I didn't doubt it for a second that somebody at least may have had the inclination to at least "threaten" us with a spatula spanking. My brother and I would constantly tease our babysitters, trying to kiss them, and we would wake up constantly when we were supposed to be in bed, always anxious to arouse the babysitter downstairs with our young shenanigans. OUr "old" babysitter and I laughed and laughed as both our "even older" parents stood by and listening to our laughter about those babysat evenings.
Another couple came over for dinner while I was out on vacation, and older couple who's son was going through a bitter divorce, and these grandparents were taking care of their 2 year old grandaughter. The little girl was playing with my parents' little dog, she was trying to pick it up because she could see how affectionate my folks' dog was.
But she couldn't pick up the little dog, even in its small weight it was still too awkward and the dog would snap at her when she would attempt to lift the dog with her weak and boney fingers. Poor little girl was shocked that that precious loving dog would yip at her genuine attempts to lift it.
In my own attempt to ease the affectionate attempts with the dog, I held the dog in my lap at the dinner table, and the young grandaughter was able to calmly pet the dog, and occassionally could lean over and kiss the precious dog on it's little doggie head.
The little granddaughter was anxious to play though, so I went and got a boxful of my brother's and my old toys that my own mother and father keep around for various young children to play with when visiting. A Fischer Price Village, Farm, various plastic automobiles which various uniformed wooden and plastic Fischer Price "people" could be set into. The grandmother and granddad were fascinated with these toys more than the little grandaughter.
A young teenage boy whom I had met next door to my mother and father
was playing with his new BB gun in the neighbor's backyard. He was a young elementary kid just a few years ago, but now was at least 2 feet taller, had longer hair, was muscular, even had hair growing on his face that looked like he now needed to shave, and his voice was deeper.
I didn't recognize him whatsoever from my memory of him 3 years ago.
My mother asked me what I thought about for a Xmas gift for my little nephew who was born 2 years ago. She, my father and I looked at all of the little sports outfits at JCPenny's and Mervyn's. He was already too big for some things that I thought would have fit him in my reference to his size 1 year ago.
I got to see a cousin of mine who's mentally handicapped. Great kid who has a home-care giver that lives with him in their own separate home. He's constantly on the go, his mind is running a million times faster than ours are, yet he is only able to speak as he were a 2 year old. One morning after I stayed with them overnight, my cousin and I were watching the sunrise, and he quietly puts his arm around me as if to reassure me that "everything is OK". His home-care live-in worker said that my cousin wouldn't do that with everyone. He's very keen on people's karma, he wouldn't talk to nor care to be around somebody who didn't have a good karma. The fact that my cousin was constantly talking to me and around me said a lot about how much he admired his older cousin Aaron. That made my entire trip, my year, my life to have my mentally handicapped cousin reassure me in a rare quiet moment that everything was OK.
