The last few weeks haven’t been the best. As my friend Christian said, 2016 is a fucking dumpster fire.
The election… the reacttion to the election… And then the realization that my son is not in a good place, I can’t do much to help him, and some bands really do give me some form of emotional catharsis, or “he gets it sometimes”
For those of you who pay incredible attention to my life story, I live in the States. I came over here 14 years go to get married. The more anticipative amongst us are already going “ooooh, that might not end well”.
How right you are. My Dad calls is the period I grew up. I call it the Greg Dulli years, leavened with Teddy Thompson. But the one bright spot was my son, Chris. He is, to use a Boston phrase, wicked smaaht.
My ex, to my mind, has issues. Manic issues, to be frank. But she has, generally, been a good mother to WC. Unfortunate moniker, for he is Wee Chris and his Uncle is Big Chris.
As WC has gotten older, he has never ceased to amaze me. National History Bee finals, State Spelling Bee, » Continue Reading.