on sunday my family had a big pre-xmas party, where everyone was invited, even the people the more closer knit relatives never associate with. the only people who weren't there were either dead or in arizona (me and my cousin). at some point in the evening, as my father was walking out of the garage where everyone was drinking he bumped into one of my older, burly, cowboy cousins.
"hey nephew, how are you doing?"
"hey, fuck you."
"what?"
"i said fuck you!"
my dad doesn't like being disrespected, and to hear such an unwarranted (in his eyes) insult thrown at him really puts him off... he made sure again he heard him correctly, and then suggested they take it outside. he told him: "look, you're my nephew, and i love ya, but if that's the way it's gonna have to be, then i am gonna hurt you." this sounds cheesy, i know, but coming from a angry, suicdal man who did two tours in 'nam and takes karate in his spare time, it's not just bad-ass posturing.
now, they were both drinking, and my dad swears up and down that he didn't say anything to provoke him... i reminded him that he might not have said anything that particular night, but that he hadn't seen that particular nephew in 3 years or so, and a lot of shit can get built up over time. arguing the whys and whens and hows of things is quite futile when talking to a drunk, but i entertained him anyway... what i think happened is that since my dad treats my cousin's mom, his one surviving sister, like shit, he finally got it to the point where her oldest son couldn't take it anymore. i know my cousin isn't the type to just go off like that unprovoked, but if you push anyone long enough, even if it's the pope or ghandi's ghost, they are eventually gonna push back.
my dad told him that he was nothing, nothing but backwoods trash... my dad likes, loves to fight, to prove himself to himself. he prides himself on his ability to belittle and destroy. i'm not saying he wouldn't have enjoyed it, but i'm sure he didn't plan on going to a family function to knock one of his nephew's teeth out.
my two uncles knew that even though my cousin was bigger, stronger, faster (he turns wrenches for a living), he didn't have the killer instinct that they had witnessed in my dad countless times... they knew that there was more than just a good chance that my cousin was gonna come out of the fight broken, probably in more than one way. they've seen my dad in bars, they've seen him in home depot parking lots with his boot on a stranger's neck. everyone knows he's crazy, but usually they just look the other way. my uncles saw that this was going to end very badly, so they stepped in and made sure it wouldn't happen at all.
it's not easy convincing a drunk that he's wrong to fight at family either, but somehow they managed to pull it off. my dad was relaying this story to me over the phone, in that rambling, repetitious way that alcoholics do, when he said that one of my uncles told him that i was worried about him. yeah, i am worried about him, but i was waiting to talk to him all about it in person...
instead, we had a drawn-out conversation about how i was sick of the way he was treating the people closest to him, about how i am sick of his threats of suicide, about how i think he drinks too much, about how i think he's self-destructive and too angry and too violent for his own good. i'm sick of his threats, i'm sick of making excuses for his shitty attitude and inappropriate behavior, but he doesn't care anyways.
i kept telling him that one of these days he's going to mouth off to the wrong person and instead of a fist flying through the air it'll be bullets instead, but then i realize that this is exactly what he wants. he want's to die, he feels worthless, painless, and it brings tears to my eyes. i told him i think he drinks so much to pass himself out, to sleep off what ever demons are haunting him so badly, and he said i was right, he said i9 was right but that there's know way i'll ever understand. i know i can never experience what it is he went through, what twisted him up so... i just want him to get help, but i know he won't. he says he worries about me, too, worries i'll die in a car wreck or get beat up or whatever, but it isn't the same sort of dread that i feel for him when he's cocked and primered.
he promised he would try harder to be more stable, but i know it was just to shut me up, shut me out. everytime we reach out to him he tries to cut off all our fingers with a slash of his temper. he said not to worry about him, that he can take care of himself... how can he take care of himself what he doesn't care about anything anymore?
it's only a matter of time before we are all standing around a casket in the rain, with everyone saying "oh, it's too bad, i totally saw it coming." everyone sees what's eventually going to happen, but nobody is doing anything about it.
it's not like he'd ever let us anyway.
-bobby
"hey nephew, how are you doing?"
"hey, fuck you."
"what?"
"i said fuck you!"
my dad doesn't like being disrespected, and to hear such an unwarranted (in his eyes) insult thrown at him really puts him off... he made sure again he heard him correctly, and then suggested they take it outside. he told him: "look, you're my nephew, and i love ya, but if that's the way it's gonna have to be, then i am gonna hurt you." this sounds cheesy, i know, but coming from a angry, suicdal man who did two tours in 'nam and takes karate in his spare time, it's not just bad-ass posturing.
now, they were both drinking, and my dad swears up and down that he didn't say anything to provoke him... i reminded him that he might not have said anything that particular night, but that he hadn't seen that particular nephew in 3 years or so, and a lot of shit can get built up over time. arguing the whys and whens and hows of things is quite futile when talking to a drunk, but i entertained him anyway... what i think happened is that since my dad treats my cousin's mom, his one surviving sister, like shit, he finally got it to the point where her oldest son couldn't take it anymore. i know my cousin isn't the type to just go off like that unprovoked, but if you push anyone long enough, even if it's the pope or ghandi's ghost, they are eventually gonna push back.
my dad told him that he was nothing, nothing but backwoods trash... my dad likes, loves to fight, to prove himself to himself. he prides himself on his ability to belittle and destroy. i'm not saying he wouldn't have enjoyed it, but i'm sure he didn't plan on going to a family function to knock one of his nephew's teeth out.
my two uncles knew that even though my cousin was bigger, stronger, faster (he turns wrenches for a living), he didn't have the killer instinct that they had witnessed in my dad countless times... they knew that there was more than just a good chance that my cousin was gonna come out of the fight broken, probably in more than one way. they've seen my dad in bars, they've seen him in home depot parking lots with his boot on a stranger's neck. everyone knows he's crazy, but usually they just look the other way. my uncles saw that this was going to end very badly, so they stepped in and made sure it wouldn't happen at all.
it's not easy convincing a drunk that he's wrong to fight at family either, but somehow they managed to pull it off. my dad was relaying this story to me over the phone, in that rambling, repetitious way that alcoholics do, when he said that one of my uncles told him that i was worried about him. yeah, i am worried about him, but i was waiting to talk to him all about it in person...
instead, we had a drawn-out conversation about how i was sick of the way he was treating the people closest to him, about how i am sick of his threats of suicide, about how i think he drinks too much, about how i think he's self-destructive and too angry and too violent for his own good. i'm sick of his threats, i'm sick of making excuses for his shitty attitude and inappropriate behavior, but he doesn't care anyways.
i kept telling him that one of these days he's going to mouth off to the wrong person and instead of a fist flying through the air it'll be bullets instead, but then i realize that this is exactly what he wants. he want's to die, he feels worthless, painless, and it brings tears to my eyes. i told him i think he drinks so much to pass himself out, to sleep off what ever demons are haunting him so badly, and he said i was right, he said i9 was right but that there's know way i'll ever understand. i know i can never experience what it is he went through, what twisted him up so... i just want him to get help, but i know he won't. he says he worries about me, too, worries i'll die in a car wreck or get beat up or whatever, but it isn't the same sort of dread that i feel for him when he's cocked and primered.
he promised he would try harder to be more stable, but i know it was just to shut me up, shut me out. everytime we reach out to him he tries to cut off all our fingers with a slash of his temper. he said not to worry about him, that he can take care of himself... how can he take care of himself what he doesn't care about anything anymore?
it's only a matter of time before we are all standing around a casket in the rain, with everyone saying "oh, it's too bad, i totally saw it coming." everyone sees what's eventually going to happen, but nobody is doing anything about it.
it's not like he'd ever let us anyway.
-bobby
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cheers!