Swings and roundabouts   Leave a comment

Sometimes when I’m pushing the pushchair along I have a tendency to look a bit unshaven, sweaty, paunchy, round-shouldered, edgy and fatigued, and when I see my opposite numbers, my counterparts in the straight world, with their neat hair, clear eyes, and primary-coloured weatherproof climbing jackets, I automatically look down to check their kid out. The sight of a tidy and well-laundered child is like a sort of stick that I seem to need to beat myself with, because my hopeless addiction to shame is immediately gratified with thoughts of the dearth of mortgages and foreign holidays and power steering in my life and in that of my offspring. As my man Teppei said, somewhere in Holland, “my character is shame”, and as Bobby J said when I relayed the quote: “that just about says it all”. Anyway, I was going through this self-flagellating process the other week in town, as we were on the way to the library. In front of Syd and I was a dude/kid combination like what I have just described, and when I looked Dad in the eye to see if he had clocked a certain yawning chasm between us, I could tell that he had, and I felt the shame waters rise in the canyon. As we passed each other I looked down at my own son. His hair looked sort of accidental, his clothes generally shabby and in nondescript hues, and his shoes were scuffed. In addition he was slouched back in his faded and fucked and too-small pushchair, with the ankle of one leg resting on the knee of the other. In short, he looked like the dopest motherfucker to ever walk the Earth, if only he could be bothered to get out of his pushchair. So, it’s swings and roundabouts, this bohemia business.

Posted May 5, 2005 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

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