Monday, June 18, 2007

What a Trip Just Watchin' As the World Goes Past

I think this was taken right before my dad disappeared.

You know how much I'm into recycling, right? So, for the next two posts, I'm going to use part of this fiction-y-er-ish story that I wrote a long time ago. Some of my friends have read it already, and you lucky folks, can just take yourself a break. This thing takes place right around when my dad left. In reality, I was four, but I made myself eight, or else it would have read a little too "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, moocow, baby tuckoo..." If you know what I mean. Okay, it's kind of fiction but most of it is based on shit I experienced or heard from the family. Got it?

Part 1:

I am eight years old today. My mom had to work so we will have my party tomorrow. My dad was supposed to get my cake and decorations, but he wanted to stop at the track for a minute and now I think he forgot. My brother says not to worry about it. Our mom will take care of it later. She will be mad, but she will get everything I need for my party. Now, my brother says we should go watch the races for a while and I can have my birthday tomorrow.

We go to tell my dad that we're going up front to try to see better. He is watching the horses. The old men at the track call them ponies. When there is a race going, he won't look anywhere else until the last horse crosses in front of him. Sometimes he won't even look up then. He will just stare and stare. He won't look up even if I stand in front of him and scream right in his face. I know because I did it once and he didn't blink. He doesn't do anything when we say where we're going, so we know we can do whatever we want now.

My father used to work at the racetrack taking pictures of the winning horses. I don't know why he doesn't anymore, but my uncle still does and that's why we get to sit in the VIP section. VIP doesn't mean vice president. When I tell my brother that's what I think it means, he calls me stupid and now I don't think that anymore.

"It means 'very important people'" He says and laughs the way he does when he hates my father.

The racetrack is made for adults. The fence that separates us from where the horses run is too high for me and my brother to see over. When the grownups get excited during a race, we stand up on the chairs to try to see, but the old men in the back seats get mad. "Sit down you goddamn hippie kids!" One of them yells and then they throw their racing forms and plastic cups that used to hold beer at us and we have to step down.

To be continued....


Babybull40 said...

You stopped just as it was getting good.. Ahhh.. I will wait like everyone see how the story unfolds...

notfainthearted said...

great writing. my heart is already starting to break

Poptart said...

I love this story churl. I often think about the part when you know your dad won't look up when you scream in front of him because you did it

And the picture is fabulous.

Can't wait for the next installment!

booda baby said...

Yay! Yay and YAY! Is that what we call revisions and rehearsing - recycling? I'm so out of the loop!

This is so excellent. Soosososososo excellent. And eight is good. Where else could you get any context. Or maybe I mean reference point. One of those.

egan said...

Oh no, the disappearing dad routine? Shit, my dad did the same thing. So sorry to hear that.

Brando said...

Great details, especially the old guys with the racing forums.

evil-e said...

I have a feeling this does not have a good ending, but I might be wrong. You are very talented, very honest, and very forthright.

Bring on part 2

l.b. said...

I cannot wait to see what happens next! Thats how you know you have a good story going on.

fringes said...

A wise commenter once told me: it's not recycled, it's a greatest hit.

Stepping Over the Junk said...

HOW can you stop there???!!! Don;t you wonder or wish we could piece together our childhoods and all the disheartening stuff that happens in our past so that the "today" makes better sense?

Churlita said...


I realized too late that this post was all build up. Tomorrow could be very disappointing.


Thanks...I think.


I love that picture and I loved that sun suit with the turtles the most.

Booda Baby,

I guess I was just trying to let people know that I wrote this a while back and I was too lazy to post anything new for two days.


No one ever saw my dad again. WE think he may have killed himself, but we'll never know.


Thanks. I spent too much time at race tracks when I was a kid.




Oh. Greatest hits works for me.


I was kind of hoping that's what therapy would be like and that I should look into it.