What I forgot to say about Vegas
And whittling down of abuse
And my father somehow making sense of an exceptionally ill advised attempt at supposedly forming a connection.
He had the idea of us going to Vegas together. I was 18.
God he really knows me.
I can’t even really remember it. It was farcical. We went to a strip club. Great bonding moment there. As we awkwardly sat next to each other. Inappropriately of course. In a strip club
Me trying to win his approval still.
I remember telling him I was gonna be a great songwriter. I know I’m gonna be the best I said.
He looked at me with that cold aloof way and said. “That’s like lighting striking. You’ll never make it. You should sell insurance like your mother. ”
At this point tho my dreams didn’t die so easy as the basketball dreams or the tennis racket dreams.
Music was my adult passion at that point. I was already a professional from 11 th grade on.
And tho I hadn’t yet written a single song. Something inside me made me feel that I would be the best. Obviously a lot that type of thinking is a direct result of the abusive landscape. You have to be more than human to justify your existence. And yet, I certainly have became a great songwriter. There are no bests. But yeah. I won that one.
Historically but not in that day. I was still about thirty years away from even understanding what I was dealing with.
It got so bad that at one point I was gonna leave for the airport when he went to gamble and locked myself out of the room and changed my mind
And he showed up
And it was just a fucking mess. The whole thing.
I don’t even remember who went where after that.
But suffice to say
That two day nothing trip
Which was definitely abusive in and of itself.
Was us becoming even in terms of blame
As to why we don’t have a relationship.
That’s what I’m saying about the insanity of this form of abuse.
They whittle it down until a lifetime of it can be measured against a failed two day excursion.
And you want fair?