Love & Darts (9781937316075) by Nath Jones Read Free Book Online

into this world with a
blithe confidence. And there are those who, like myself, are weary
at the neck of the hourglass.
    I’m waiting for my lover in the pebbled
courtyard of our fifth-favorite restaurant. We chose it not because
it’s cheap but because it’s close to his work.
    I hate iconic, banal shit like my father’s
dying. Part of me even hates this May blue sky.
    I am aware of my own presence so much
sometimes. It’s like I’m here, I’m me, but I’m also this
self-consciousness, this constant kind of correction. Self-control.
Self-discipline. Self-awareness. All of it right here under this
pecan tree. And not only here. Everywhere I go it goes—walking,
working, even going home. Especially going home. I just keep
cutting away what’s unacceptable and expressing what others will
tolerate, can handle, will accept, will love—well, will at least
not criticize.
    Today is a clean day that makes you want ice
water and a swim of absolution. Above me—not just me—there is one
of those full blue skies that you always want to remember in
November.
    On days this gorgeous it seems possible to
capture the beauty of that kind of atmospheric blue. Wouldn’t it be
nice to keep some bit of it, some twist, some lovely description of
the sky, some transcendent pleasure that transports you deeper,
further, and with ease? Go ahead and try. Try to keep some of the
sky for days when crappy gray cloud cover obscures the light. You
won’t possibly be able to remember this much blue. You cannot hold
any great sky in your mind for long. The frustration of the attempt
is too much. In November you’ll just get pissed off doing your best
to envision a May sky.
    Don’t bother with any duality of the
material and the mind. What’s the point? Let the blue sky go. Get
rid of it. Get rid of it and the memories of your dad listening to
The Allman Brothers Band in the basement. Get rid of the lyrics
that keep coming back: ‎ Turn your love my
way.
    Don’t do it. Don’t let him win. Don’t let
the world’s pressure separate you from who you are. Hold on. Stay
here. Don’t give up. Not again. Even if you were the second
inadequate person in your father’s righteous world.
    The blue sky is unrelated to the material
you and unrelated to your dealing with your immaterial dead dad
shit. Grief is nothing. Your father’s dying without knowing the
real you is nothing. It does not matter.
    Prove it?
    Fine. But can it be done? Can any of this
leftover love-like destruction be rationalized?
    Because first off: The lovely, spring blue
sky is not unrelated to material you because you're breathing it;
you're alive inside of all that air. Fine. So. There's a real
interaction there that cannot be denied.
    Secondly: That May blue heaven is not
unrelated to immaterial you because the color of the sky affects
your mood. It lifts your spirits when you're dealing with your
dead-dad-grief shit.
    Just get over it and cope. Plenty of people
have secrets.
    And this suffering is only like clothes. So.
Get up; put on your shoulds.
    Something is in conflict. You’re sitting at
a table under a pecan tree, the sky is cheering you up, but you
shouldn’t be cheered up. Press your arm over your eyes. Stay with
the appropriate grief that makes you a better person. You need the
gravity. You need the sadness. You need the import. There are
shoulds for everything, especially now with all this dead-dad-grief
shit. Don’t you dare feel the wrong emotions right now. This is no
time to enjoy the expanse of a blue above and beyond who and what
you are.
    You most need the situation to make sense.
If a tragedy has occurred, it should be tragic. You should feel the
tragedy of an unexpected death. Your father’s unexpected death is
tragic. You should not be filled with joy, with gladness, with
thanksgiving, with relief, with finality and freedom. Something is
wrong. Amiss.
    And don’t whisper anything long-suppressed
like, That’s what happens when the abuser