The Indigestible

And … the trifecta!

Courtesy of REM.

That was just a dream.

That’s me in the corner.

That’s me in the spotlight losing my religion
trying to keep up with you
and I don’t know if I can do it.
Oh no, I’ve said too much.

I haven’t said enough.

I thought that I heard you laughing.
I thought that I heard you sing.
I think I thought I saw you try.

Just greasin’ that ole pole to hell.

Over the years we’ve been treated to a lot of reasons why we’re not supposed to use illegal drugs, though most of those reasons are pretty damn silly. The most recent spate of cheesily-animated anti-pot ads are even trying to suggest that marijuana is addictive. It’s not.

And of course Nancy Reagan, wife of useless (and now dead*) president Ronald Reagan, coined the “Just Say No” phrase, which probably stands as a high-water mark in the history of cortex-free attempts at social engineering.

But I think I’ve finally hit upon the very best reason not to use hard drugs ever.

“The strangest thing I’ve tried to snort? My father. I snorted my father,” [Stones guitarist Keith] Richards was quoted as saying by British music magazine NME.

I’ve never really felt tempted to use cocaine. Given the foregoing, that lack of temptation has become considerably more like ewwwww, fuck no.

Thanks, Keith.

====

* Thus, slightly more useful now.

So this is where it gets personal.

I got my fingerprint card from the state last month — it means there’s no legal barrier now between me and whatever might happen. I mean, my understanding is that now, if the adoption I want doesn’t go forward, it’ll be because I failed. I didn’t follow up or I did something wrong, didn’t cross the right eye or dot the proper tee.

I’m still in a kind of fog; I got the fingerprint clearance on February 14th, a sort of Valentine’s card that I didn’t expect.

I think I’m just beginning to realize how much and how deeply everything can change, how fast, how soon. I’ve done a hell of a lot — but I still have so much more to do.

I’m adding a category to TI: Yoshi. I’m not referring to the turtle; yoshi means, in Japanese, adopted son. As I learn more and things move forward, I’ll be posting stuff in this category. I won’t be using names because I’m on the fost/adopt track now, which means that until the adoption is official Yoshi (whomever he might be) will be my foster son and will have to have anonymity; afterward, it’ll be up to him if he wants to have his face and name splattered all over the blogosphere.

Christ. If I do this right, I’m gonna be a dad.

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A thousand-word post.