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Coldwater Canyon
Feb. 10th, 2013 07:15 pmI'm on a days-long vacation, as is my custom for some time around my birthday. Instead of being comfortably ensconced in my grandfather's old-but-ridiculously-comfortable recliner in my parents' living room, I'm in a comfortable bed in a hotel in Charleston, West Virginia. For, and stop me if you've heard this already, a funeral.
What I'm going to write isn't all that pleasant. I'm not here to honor the dead, or offer comfort to the immediate family. I'm here solely so shore up my father. The deceased is or was an aunt, and almost definitely the most broken and unpleasant person I've ever known. I've never seen her without at least one cigarette in hand, and often double-fisting the things, ash dropping into whatever lies below, her cognitive functions burned down by an industrial-grade cocktail of antipsychotic and antidepressant medications. To be honest, the only consistent emotion I've ever felt for this woman has been pity. Even as a child, and before I could put this into words, she never was anything I could call a complete person. She's always been, in my universe, this pear-shaped lump of flesh, watery-eyed and with a voice that was either a hoarse and entreating whisper or a demanding gravelly bellow in either setting existing only to call out for a drink or food or a cigarette, reeking of tobacco smoke and uncleanliness.
Upon arrival at the hotel, I was able to download the files that I'll be expanding and rewriting for the Spycraft 2.0 closeout book. There's a lot to review, and this work is going to be take up most of my time away from the office. This was the plan, by the way, and a huge part of my reason to spend my vacation time in a familiar-but-not-my-place environment. Once we get back to Liberty, tomorrow evening, I'll have the better part of four days to do nothing but work on this project. Dad's going to be on the road, and Mom will be at work for about 10 hours a day, and I'll have nothing to do but review the precursor work, peruse the notes and other material, and crank out wordcount. This is going to be good for me. Healthy
What I'm going to write isn't all that pleasant. I'm not here to honor the dead, or offer comfort to the immediate family. I'm here solely so shore up my father. The deceased is or was an aunt, and almost definitely the most broken and unpleasant person I've ever known. I've never seen her without at least one cigarette in hand, and often double-fisting the things, ash dropping into whatever lies below, her cognitive functions burned down by an industrial-grade cocktail of antipsychotic and antidepressant medications. To be honest, the only consistent emotion I've ever felt for this woman has been pity. Even as a child, and before I could put this into words, she never was anything I could call a complete person. She's always been, in my universe, this pear-shaped lump of flesh, watery-eyed and with a voice that was either a hoarse and entreating whisper or a demanding gravelly bellow in either setting existing only to call out for a drink or food or a cigarette, reeking of tobacco smoke and uncleanliness.
Upon arrival at the hotel, I was able to download the files that I'll be expanding and rewriting for the Spycraft 2.0 closeout book. There's a lot to review, and this work is going to be take up most of my time away from the office. This was the plan, by the way, and a huge part of my reason to spend my vacation time in a familiar-but-not-my-place environment. Once we get back to Liberty, tomorrow evening, I'll have the better part of four days to do nothing but work on this project. Dad's going to be on the road, and Mom will be at work for about 10 hours a day, and I'll have nothing to do but review the precursor work, peruse the notes and other material, and crank out wordcount. This is going to be good for me. Healthy
