my mom, my new best friend

December 28, 2002 at 7:54 pm 1 comment

So anyway it all basicly started when Darren said, “Oh I’m like you. I was always closer to my mother.” and something else to explain the fact that I’m apparently this feminate guy. I mean a lot of other things people said were bugging me, but that one was a new one. I was never really close to my mom, or we’ve never really been close. She’s taking a shower right now, I’m in on the computer. I shut myself away to avoid the precession of ideas I don’t want to be a part of. Everyday she asks me to be part of her paranoia, to agree that black people are dangerous, certian segments of town should be avoided, you should live your life in doors and away from the world. It’s not that I don’t like her, as much as that she needs a friend, and I’m not it. I can’t identify with her stories, see her point of view, or really relate to her on any level. Anyway, neurotically leafing through today’s events with my mom I’m consistently bothered by this new complex where ya know I’m my mom’s effemiate son etc. Which I’m not. This becomes apparent when I choose to watch tech tv and other male nerdy pusuits instead of talking to her about house colors and such. Later I buy a bunch of weird art magazines. My Dad and I always related, he was just never around. Mon Pere can get Gide, and while he seems to characterize us “bohemians,” in strange carcituaries, his fascination with the lives of coffee bar employees is at least amusing. I don’t know what I’m saying.
Today we went to return a Sweater stopped in Saks and stared at Prada Running shoes, and my mom tells me she knows her place in the world and it’s not Saks. We return the old navy sweater and get jeans which cost more than the sweater. Then go into look for running shoes. My old, much loved and adored, Chuck Taylors have meet their end, and my reluctance to buy shoes pisses her off. WE end up at some mall looking for a restruarant after failing to get prescription sun glasses and I see these running shoes at some up-scale last name of owner’s store. Go in and they have ‘m. Buy ‘m and after shave. Run home. one cigarette today. going home tomorrow. The more you come back, the better the nostalgia. I don’t wanna characterize any of my parents as horrible people, but I feel like the more explore my lives through them, the more I see that school society isn’t as important as family. Me and my family have never gotten along. I’m not as snooty as many intellectual types (My uncle alvin tells me it’s nice there’s someone in the family whose interested in more than eating and drinking). The more distance I get from them, the better they seem. The older you get the more barricades you put up, the more resistance you show, the more they have to accept you for what you are and not what they want you to be. It’s an uphill battle with families, and with people in general. I keep forgetting what I want to say and leaving this portrait half complete. I don’t think who I am was shaped from a kinship positive with me mother, but rather as her relucant friend I was always unhappy. When she got a boyfriend I remember thinking she’d be more occupied, more out in the world, instead she became more introverted, more needy, more of something I couldn’t live with. It’s not that she imposes on me, as much as that she needs someone and I had to pass her off, get her problems off my shoulders and deal with mine own. Sometimes we need space to feel connection.


Entry filed under: media.

update – memphis danger

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December 2002

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