The other day I washed my eight-year-old's hands. He typically does such a task on his own, but I was in a hurry (always) so I grabbed a face cloth and did it myself. In a moment only parents catalog, I noticed how coarse his hands were. He plays baseball and messes around with drum sticks and dabbles in dirt, so naturally the disappearance of any sort of baby-softness is expected. But it still surprised me; it's almost like he totes the hands of an adult now. It got me rolling on some sort of internal rumination about the transition from childhood to adulthood. When I reached the end point, I put on the new Spiritualized album. I wonder if Jason Pierce's mother ever wished to put her son in some sort of stasis, to preserve him from all the bad things he injected/inhaled. To preserve his track-less, fleshy, pink hands. If she ever lectured him, maybe the words are finally coursing through his veins as this new disc seems to stress what the low points can be from indulging a little too freely. Or maybe all the time he spent with Kate Radley's father, the behavioral psychologist, and Kate Radley's father's books are freeing his mind, allowing him to discontinue his demystification of narcotics and reconnect with humanity. Or maybe I'm just getting old and want my heroes to exhibit their age as well.
"Why not have something that sounds terrible that you can hold?" - Chris Jahnle
Monday, May 12, 2008
The other day I washed my eight-year-old's hands. He typically does such a task on his own, but I was in a hurry (always) so I grabbed a face cloth and did it myself. In a moment only parents catalog, I noticed how coarse his hands were. He plays baseball and messes around with drum sticks and dabbles in dirt, so naturally the disappearance of any sort of baby-softness is expected. But it still surprised me; it's almost like he totes the hands of an adult now. It got me rolling on some sort of internal rumination about the transition from childhood to adulthood. When I reached the end point, I put on the new Spiritualized album. I wonder if Jason Pierce's mother ever wished to put her son in some sort of stasis, to preserve him from all the bad things he injected/inhaled. To preserve his track-less, fleshy, pink hands. If she ever lectured him, maybe the words are finally coursing through his veins as this new disc seems to stress what the low points can be from indulging a little too freely. Or maybe all the time he spent with Kate Radley's father, the behavioral psychologist, and Kate Radley's father's books are freeing his mind, allowing him to discontinue his demystification of narcotics and reconnect with humanity. Or maybe I'm just getting old and want my heroes to exhibit their age as well.
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