Day Thirty One: BadSeed

I feel so good right now.

I feel like I should give you some background on my family, because I've written most of my adventures without context.

My grandfather, Robert Paul Farah had three sons, in this order: Scott, Paul and Dan. My father is Paul Robert* Farah, the middle child and the weird one, who moved from New Hampshire to live in Phoenix, where I was born. I am the oldest of eight cousin, two to Scott, three to Dan and three to my father, which really doesn't make them cousins. Also, I am not counting my adopted brothers and sisters, because my grandparents do not, which is really quite sad.

Anyway, being the oldest, I am a positively bad influence on them, because they look up to me. I love that feeling, but it also kind of worries me that I am doing damage to them. I've been discussing my anarchist/libertarian views with my cousin Matthew. He claims he will never do any illegal drugs because it's illegal. I told him I'm not going to allow the state to decide what is healthy for me. I'm seeding little thoughts like this into him. I let him read the Catcher in the Rye, which is way worse than the M-Rated games his mom won't let him play.

My cousin Joshua, lives in North Carolina and is the son of my uncle Dan. Today, I learned he is coming to live with my grandparents for a while. He flies in tomorrow night and I will go to pick him up. He's 14, and you know how influenced kids are at his age. So I'm going to really change him around, for better or worse. I'm really excited. We're sharing a room. We need to get him a cane, so off to Laconia!

Tomorrow my cousins Matthew and Mark return from Africa. We are really gonna have chaos on Friday. It's gonna be so awesome.

I feel peace. So at the top is a weird picture of me. I was riding a kids bike while wearing a Darth Vader mask. Why not.

*Notice that my father and grandfather have switched names. Aren't they clever? I was supposed to be Robert Paul too. Then I was supposed to be Heath. Instead, I am me.

Day Fourteen: This is it

The first thing you need to know is what I was wearing. I bought these pants for work. They're like khakis but they don't suck. The pockets feel great. I feel great in them. Kick ass.

I'm wearing a blue t-shirt that's tucked in because Grandma says the restaurant we're going to is really fancy. But my cousins are wearing civilian clothes. It's okay. I like wearing nice clothes when I don't have a reason to. Prom, for example.

We're at this boring brunch buffet. Some cozy name. Stupid woodsy pictures on the wall. Two music school dropouts are playing jazz music in the corner. Some atmosphere attempt. We request that they play the "Farmer in the Dell" and they do, with their jazz twist.

Our waitress has a bad case of the 'muggies' which just means PMS or lack of sleep. So my cousins and I try to cheer her up. There's chocolate fondue and we start sticking sausage and shrimp in it. The shrimp must be really fancy, cause it's served to you on rocks. The sausage tastes store bought.

We dare each other to eat the chocolate covered cuisine. I nibble it and almost feel sick. Chug sour cranberry juice. What, on yer period? This brings the waitress a smile.

Earlier, I found this picture of Hawaii and all day I'm taking a screwdriver to it, trying to screw it up on purpose. I didn't think I would do any art here, but it found me.

We drive out to Laconia, where I lived when I was two and try to find a record store I saw once. It's closed of course. Everything is closed at four on Sunday, except an old antique shop. These places cover New Hampshire like a plague but I've never been inside. We're the only customers. Browsing through this elderly expensive collection. Browsing through the history no one wants.

Matthew gets a brilliant idea. He finds a box full of walking canes for a dollar each. We all buy canes and go strolling down the street like gentlemen. I love downtown Laconia. It's a city in the sense that downtown Flagstaff is a city. Small and crumbling and quaint.

There's an old joke. How many ADHD kids does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Let's go ride bikes! That isn't a joke. I'm caffeine high as hell, in my kickass clothes and we go for a three mile bike ride with our canes, eating cheese and whooping like Indians. (Of course, people don't whoop like Indians anymore. That's not politically correct.)

We fought with the canes while cruising and hit signs and all that. I was exhausted by the time we were done pedaling up a hill. I got my second wind just before we flew back down. No hands, I raised my cane in the air and screamed. I couldn't help thinking, this is it.

This is it.