Just Write

Dear Readers,

This blog is a baby and I have been kicking it around. It’s not a very nice thing to do to your baby or your blog but I wasn’t sure how to approach it. I figured it out. Just write.

This is a place for me to vent, express myself and to keep the fingers tapping away at the keyboard. That’s all it is. So here goes.

I went to Belmont lake yesterday with my girls. We had a great time and I let them feed the ducks in spite of what the signs said. What are you going to say when a nice old lady with tattoos on her neck offers your little one a slice bread to feed the ducks? I couldn’t say no, even if I knew better.

First off bread is bad for the ducks and I know this. The second thing is if they get fed they never leave and they go to the bathroom a lot. All that duck shit makes the water have less oxygen, weeds grow, pond scum forms, fish die and all of this cause you let the little one feed the fucking ducks.

So there’s my daughter feeding the ducks and I am looking over my shoulder for the authorities. The lake is crowded, people are everywhere and suddenly I am back on the streets like when I was a kid breaking a law or two. I get that 100 yard stare going and I am trying to pick the enemy out. It hits me… I just let my three year old commit her first crime. Feeding the ducks.

My little one is all smiles but in the back of my mind I am screaming ‘HURRY UP WITH THAT BREAD”.  I want to give her a hand but I also don’t want to break the law, than again, she is only three that makes me responsible. I am breaking the law!  Christ, am I endangering the welfare of a child as well? How many charges are they going to give me for letting the little one feed the ducks? How many for taking the lords name in vain?

So we get the hell away from the bread pushing little old lady with tattoos and I am wondering what is wrong with people just giving bread out like that. I don’t need this kind of pressure. We keep walking around the lake when we get to the cannons we stole from the British in the War of 1812 . I don’t feel so bad anymore. I am not like the authorities I didn’t steal that bread or anything.

People are everywhere and they have their dogs. There are real nice people there and of course at least one major asshole. He has this dog with him and it’s a nasty son of a bitch. Every dog that walked by this dog, it went for. It wasn’t a little dog either and it breeds unimportant cause I don’t want people to think I am picking on a breed of dogs or something. But I was afraid this dog might go for someone or even kill a child.

At the right moment, when this dog was focused on another dog and the owner was standing between the two dogs, we made our move. We get ahead of him, and get him and the dog behind us. My two girls and I are safe and sound. We moved beyond the asshole!

Now of course I am wondering where the hell are the authority? Suddenly “the man” is my friend. I don’t need this kind of pressure. I just wanted to go for a walk around the lake.

Walk my ass, my little one wanted to run, I was afraid my pack of smokes was going to fall out of my pocket but I go for it anyway, thinking we’ll get some space between us and the guy with the attack dog.

We move from one exercise station to the next. My oldest daughter gives it a go, the little one mimics here moves and of course I try and make a joke out of each station.

We have a good time at the lake, playing on the grass, walking by the creek and the stolen cannons. We stroll through the woods for a bit. I try and point out birds and plants for the kids. It all goes well. As far as I know no one was attack at the lake and no dogs were attacked. I start feeling bad about calling that guy an asshole even if I only said it in my mind. Maybe, that dog was abused and he was trying to socialize it with other dogs and people. The owner really was right on top of the dog and he had a friend with him who appeared to be doing some blocking.

I just wanted to go for a walk around the lake….who needs all this pressure? All this guilt?

I feel the same way about this fucking blog. Why do I do this to myself? I could give a fuck what people think? Right?

No write!


Stop bitching Tom!

It hits me if I wasn’t bitching I would have nothing to write about. All I can do is  just write.

Much love,

Your salty friend Tom Poet

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