I had a whole thing written up in here about taking my son to see AC/DC on the same day they made a guy from Chicago the Pope. It was about masculinity performance and fatherhood. I re-read it and I just hated it, mainly because I can’t stand reading my own words about parenting. Nobody asked, and even when it’s reasonably self-effacing, it comes off as unsolicited parenting advice. I’ll leave it to the memoir people and writers who cover gender stuff for THE DISCOURSE.
Also, I don’t really have an opinion about the Pope. I was trying to muster one up. I don’t give a shit, man. It’s not especially popular to flaunt one’s Americanism these days, but on this one, I’m pulling the America card. Don’t care about Pope. Instead let’s read some haiku while listening to the classical piano composition embedded in a YouTube video.
Haiku: Week’ of 5/4/2025
women in leather jackets lean libertarian. not rolling the dice. there’s an old saying I don’t remember, but it meant a lot to me. slapping curbs in the world’s largest parking lot. this had color once. rubber ducks on Jeeps. adorning the Buick with human skulls; truck nuts. I’ve redefined love for my college thesis. Silk words soften the pricks.