Thursday, March 25, 2004
and the forest will echo with laughter
Or maybe not the forest. Maybe just our living room. But it was an even more magical wonderful experience than Plant and Page ever imagined.
The Boy laughed.
Sure, you can dismiss this moment as the sentimental ramblings of a proud new father, ("Ooh, look, little Timmy just spit up, isn't he beautiful"). I am almost tempted to do so myself.
Even if that turns out to be true, so fucking what. I was there. It was a beautiful experience. It was remarkable.
The Boy, this sweet two year old child whom the doctors (once again, fuck the doctors) originally said lacked the brain capacity to even feel pain, who, according to the best professional medical opinions at the time, most definitely lacked the brain capacity to ever see or hear or even form attachments to or know people. . .
This boy, The Boy, laughed.
I came home from work and sat down next to The Boy on the couch. I picked him up and held him close and began speaking to him while gently rubbing his back. He smiled. Then he laughed.
My dear readers, The Good Doctor Noyz spent many, if no most, of his adoloescent and adult years living by the imagined motto of Dow corporation -- "Better living through chemicals." Hell, it was almost my god damned raison d'etre until two weeks ago when The Boy finally came home.
If you can smoke, swallow or drink it as a way to alter your mind, I have done it.
Sometimes several times daily.
I have been too high to remember my own name and subsequently fallen so low that that I could not move away from the puddles of my own urine and vomit in which I occassionally found myself upon awakening.
Sometimes several times daily.
None of that will ever compare to the euphoria induced by the sound of The Boy laughing.
|
The Boy laughed.
Sure, you can dismiss this moment as the sentimental ramblings of a proud new father, ("Ooh, look, little Timmy just spit up, isn't he beautiful"). I am almost tempted to do so myself.
Even if that turns out to be true, so fucking what. I was there. It was a beautiful experience. It was remarkable.
The Boy, this sweet two year old child whom the doctors (once again, fuck the doctors) originally said lacked the brain capacity to even feel pain, who, according to the best professional medical opinions at the time, most definitely lacked the brain capacity to ever see or hear or even form attachments to or know people. . .
This boy, The Boy, laughed.
I came home from work and sat down next to The Boy on the couch. I picked him up and held him close and began speaking to him while gently rubbing his back. He smiled. Then he laughed.
My dear readers, The Good Doctor Noyz spent many, if no most, of his adoloescent and adult years living by the imagined motto of Dow corporation -- "Better living through chemicals." Hell, it was almost my god damned raison d'etre until two weeks ago when The Boy finally came home.
If you can smoke, swallow or drink it as a way to alter your mind, I have done it.
Sometimes several times daily.
I have been too high to remember my own name and subsequently fallen so low that that I could not move away from the puddles of my own urine and vomit in which I occassionally found myself upon awakening.
Sometimes several times daily.
None of that will ever compare to the euphoria induced by the sound of The Boy laughing.
|
Comments:
Post a Comment
