Dear Dad Read Online Free Page A

myself, when I was Seventeen to visit Booba and the other relatives. I had dropped out of society basically, and went to Santa Cruz first, to visit a surfer that I had met in a restaurant I worked at in Washington. We did pure LSD and watched the surf break as I thought I heard "Time keeps on slippin. . .into the future."
     
    So, when I got to Reno, I was pretty rattled from a week of partying and didn't know what to do, except to prove to everybody I was a man now, especially proving it to my uncle, who was the drunk alpha male of the household. So, I got excited when my uncle took up my request to start drinking at 4 pm on a Wednesday. Booba came over and I was doing shots of Vodka with my Russian Grandmother!
     
    Two hours later, after wrestling with my uncle in the living room, and being a cocky shit to Booba, I got a huge pang of homesickness. Usually when I got drunk somewhere, I wanted to be somewhere else, and friends would be scrambling to find me when I was already on the road, driving away and swerving to miss the oncoming traffic. I told my uncle I was leaving. My aunt yelled "NO!" It was a twenty hour drive back home and I was wasted. I was determined to leave when suddenly Alpha-Male Uncle picked me up by my shirt. I whimpered as he held me three feet off the ground against the wall. I got embarrassed, real embarrassed and ran up to the guest bedroom like a little girl. I was so embarrassed that I left silently the next morning while everyone was at work. Booba eventually passed away, but for a few minutes we saw eye to eye and it was worth it.
     
     

    WHEN I FORGOT TO GRADUATE HIGH SCHOOL
     
    During High School commencement, I was sitting in the parking lot in my pickup truck with a glove box full of beer. I had resigned at the beginning of Senior Year. Standing by my open window was another friend, with the same type of disdain for school, talking shit about the teachers and the stuck up ass kissers that were going onto Ivy League schools. The alcohol had reached a euphoric level in my consciousness and I had trouble listening to him. That night, half of the school population was planning their future, while the other half went home and watched the clock. The biography of my existence, at that point, was created by Rock stars who I worshiped. My only dream was to be in a band who would break into stardom. The light of that star dimmed the moment I heard my dad speak of my future.
     
    Months later, I had been up all night wrapping my brain around Hallucinogenics, when it was time to move. My buddy had rented a large U-hual and when he tried moving it closer to the his mom’s house, the top of the truck hit the gutter. It was a large truck and it was even larger in our distorted minds. Pretty soon we were driving away in a U-hual to a Mexican farm town, where we tried weaning off of alcohol using cough syrup. My buddy’s dad had a little cabin he wasn’t using, so it was our exciting escape from a town I had traversed in so many times, that even invented stories of occupying exotic cities was a futile exercise.
     
    I was ready to leave school behind and girls swirling their hair and closing and opening their legs with the itch of lost virginity, and the bullies, who bullied, like millions of newborn crabs clawing at each other in shallow water. We stayed a month in that Mexican farm town and went our seperate way afterwards. I landed back in my fishbowl and had to regroup.
    A couple weeks later, I was lying in the back of my truck with another friend staring up at the stars and talking about our futures when we heard a loud car chase. As I looked over the railing of the truck bed I saw a big old car flying up the hill with a little white car chasing it. I was shocked. Nothing like this happened in our small town.
    Sometime during the next week, through small town folklore, I found out that it was my friend, who we called “Mark in the Dark”, driving the “boat” in that car chase. Apparently he