When I was about 9, my mom received some tickets for "A Chorus Line" for her family as a gift. Then, we were going through a divorce; so, the sperm donor drove us to Manhattan, and while we watched the show he was probably screwing some whore or at OTB.
We were driving home, on the Verazanno Bridge, and there is this big turn and there are these zebra 'warning' stripes.
We were all talking about the show still (I was taken with how it moved my Mom to tears), when I stood in the Cadillac (natch) backseat and peered over the two front passengers (Mom and Bio dad).
"Mom, I'm gonna be on Broadway too. And you can come to every show I'm in."
Up until this point in my life, I had never expressed any desire to be a cop or a fireman or an architect.
Sperm Donor turns around from driving, grabs me by the throat and tells me "No son of mine is going to be some faggot actor."
2 comments:
Its terrible hard to just let it got when it replays in your head all on its own. I have blocked half of my childhood away, I dont know which is better, blocking or thinking it out to the point of letting go or at least moving beyond it.
thanks urelle;
although not comforting. IT IS comforting.
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