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A multi-generational exploration of addiction |
As I have mentioned, I don't recall my paternal grandfather. I'm not certain that I really even met the man, but I certainly can imagine what an amazing man he wasn't. He was a rough looking man, even at middle age he donned the appearance of an old sea captain. He couldn't of been too tall, I don't know where Kim or I got the height but cruel men just don't exceed 5' 6" or 5"7". He was just tall (or rotund) enough to overbear the women in his life, innumerable and sad. Aside from his artist wife (my grandmother) Li, I think they were mostly hookers. His eyes were hard, two black balls set in frozen silly-puddy, tanned skin- too tanned from working out doors. His wrinkles ran creases across the forehead dragging his graying dark eyebrows taught to his ears. It must of been painful some days. Somehow he had all of his teeth, though he should of given them away in one of his brawls, they were so stained, chipped and foul. Foul like the words and odor that were emitted from between those awful chapped pink leather lips of his. The only liquid he ever saw was beer after beer or the tears from his wives eyes. I've heard tell that he used to fuck hookers with my father in the room. Because Kim wasn't watching and learning how to be a man, Pops would flick lit cigarettes at him. How the girls must of swooned. Now please don't get me wrong, the story has only begun. Despite this story I am recounting about a couple of guys.... I am absolutely MAD about men. This brings us to MY addiction... |