So I haven't done a diarama for a while even though from memory there's still about 18 months if not two years of the 80s to go. Wondering if I should persist? I hate an unfinished project.
In other news, am getting through the David Foster Wallace biography. It's brilliant, I am taking notes. And girding my loins for Infinite Jest.
My father, who I have called a cunt on here, and who I don't think visits much anymore (and not because of that, I hasten to add, probably just because it's boring here) is still talking to the poh-lees about the particular case from several years ago (early part of Bad Eighties Diaries, I think early 1984). His 'detective friend' (as my dad puts it) had gone quiet (required else where in the city a couple of weeks ago) but he's sure to pop up. Dad had to give a proper statement, and he gave the DNA cheek-swab.
I love my dad but gee he's snaky. I spoke to him just before and told him so. Last week he let me down and sometimes it seems like that's the pattern. Here I am - a mature woman - capable in every way, yet she still has a seven-year-old girl living inside of her, who gets hurt. It's pathetic but I'm sure I'm not the only one. Don't we all have smaller versions of ourselves living inside our skins?
Last week we had organised to go to lunch. Him, me, my mother and Princess. (My parents are divorced but still share sweet nostalgic referencing when they see each other; talk of songs remembered, seeing Frank Sinatra together in the '60s, peeps they knew, etc. This is a contrast to the wild scenes of thirty-five years before - love letters found in shirt pockets; soap rubbed into locks; marital beds dismantled; feelings hurt about not being invited to Abba at the Myer Music Bowl.) So Dad cancelled at the last minute. He said he'd hurt his leg. I smelled bullshit and found out today that aroma was accurate. I can't be fagged going into it; it's like politics. Just let it go. But I told Dad today I'd felt he let me down and I felt he was being snaky and not being straight with me. He gets caught in the middle - something that happens to men NOT women. Women are the ones that PUT them in the middle. Men are reeling, fogged-headed and confused, trying to keep everyone happy and not managing to get a smile on anyone's face - so they lie and cover up and bullshit and make excuses. They can't win. I know that.
Anyway.
Anyway.
He and I are good. I don't like it when we're not good. Families suck but they are also really great when they are great.
