My father found the burden of life too much to bear
He borrowed and gambled
He let the hate in his heart and the abuse he suffered from his father take him over
He drank and he screamed and shouted some more
Treated little old me to a front row seat to a man’s desolation as I sat frozen in my body,
It was a lot for a child to understand,
Too much even.
The fear, the confusion, the anger and hope for someone to fix it and hold me tight while they made it all better for me.
I don’t ever really know who I am in any one moment,
I can fit in, get along and thrive in almost any room you put me in
“hey, Ian’s a fun guy isn’t he, little mad but he’s great isn’t he”
I’ve heard this a few times and it’s okay to be a little bit mad I tell myself, the best people often are.
Dylan, Bukowski, Zevon and Dr. Hunter S all spring to mind.
I don’t fit in with many people,
I can go along and get along,
I can charm and make jokes,
I can listen and help
But there’s only a small handful of humans out there who understand me.
Not the version of Ian they want
Or the version they knew
Or the version of me that’s something else
But those few who get my weirdness,my quietness, my darkness, my sense of humour (dark as it may be at times)
It’s more than a lot of people have and I’m grateful for those people.
Those are the people that make me want to live a long, beautiful and adventurous life. Full of smiles, photographs, new experiences, dogs, good food and telling my loved ones what they mean to me
I am what I am as Popeye said whoever the fuck that is ?
That’s as much a mystery to me as it is anyone.
It’s a journey, figuring it all out
Some people know as a kid who they are,
Some in their 20’s or their 50’s and it’s all okay
It’s better to find yourself at seventy five than live your whole life without facing all the shit and grittiness that is life.
There’s a beauty in the journey,
There’s a beauty in it