letter to dad

dear dad,

my sister is getting married, isn't she? even asking seems silly — we both know it. but it's a little uncomfortable, i imagine, and it's also uncomfortable for me. self-reproach, you see.

having a great father is a problem. i don't think you're perfect, don't worry. but you have been, and continue to be, a great father. i am not sure whether i'm looking for you...i think that, rather, i'm looking for someone who has the potential to be you one day. furthermore, because i think you a great man, it's easy sometimes to write off your strange, strong care as a great man's act. like nietzsche's great man, who has no need to prove his power because he knows he is on the height, you can be especially kind and affectionate to a fucked-up daughter because you don't need to prove to her that she is fucked-up, or to anyone else that you raise perfect daughters every time.

by the way, i don't truly think that's how it is with us, anymore.  you've convinced me out of considering myself a charity case with your loving respect — which highlights your greatness, i shall add. but it's hard to conceive that i could earn the respectful love of anyone like you, or at least anyone with the discernible potential to be like you.

my sister did well. i envy her. for that i reproach myself, as well as for not having the wherewithal to go out and get one for myself, if i want it so badly. maybe it's the groucho marx club membership syndrome — i could never respect a man that would let me catch him. or maybe it's that i want to be caught. chased, like my sister was, and pleasantly surprised, and constantly wooed. i really envy her that. she and i are much more alike than anyone has ever credited — i've always said so, but not aloud for a long time, since it was scoffed at. but i identify with her responses to things; i'm just more aggressive and angry nowadays, as opposed to quietly despairing and melancholic, as she tends to be.

she is so beautiful in this picture.  i want to be beautiful like she is.  i always have.

do you remember saying that you'd rather just get on a boat and go down to mexico for a few years, and come back when we'd all made our choices and you'd deal with the consequences?

sometimes i want to get on a boat and go down to mexico, too, and come back with some guy who just needed his green card.  he'd be all about my blue eyes, and he'd owe me his entire life.

but you know what?  i don't really want that.  i want somebody who is already on their own escape to mexico, somebody that you might befriend while you're down there.