Mom and Dad

It’s like when you’re suddenly on TV: Hi mom! No, but it isn’t, it’s just a fucking blog, and who knows if mom is reading it? A shadow of doubt there, thank God. As Samuel Clemens aka Mark Twain said, “it is better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool, than to open it and remove all doubt.” So maybe I am lucky, and, although I haven’t kept my trap shut as Samuel recommended, at least mother, perhaps, hasn’t read all the foolish things I’ve written here and still has doubts as to whether I am a fool or not.
Yeah, so I am listening to Taxman from the Beatles, which doesn’t fit in the least, but oh well. Sometimes the music is on a completely different tangent to the thoughts. Or whatever. Not just sometimes.
And dad? He knows I am a fool, and he’s proud of me anyway. Good dad, honest dad. Back in the day, when I was a baker, my first profession, he said: that’s a good, honorable profession! I’m proud of you, my son! And he meant it, and I am very, very thankful for that. I suppose there are many dads who are real bitches, but my dad is one of those rare cases who doesn’t give a fuck what I do for a living: it’s alright. When he reads this, he’ll say: my son is an author, that’s an honorable profession! Ha. Haha. Muahahaha…! *gasp*
Listening to Zhopa, from Leningrad.