I went and got drunk today during work. During my lunch break during work. I took my break at 10. Not a big deal really. People drink all the time at lunch. I’ve heard that the Europeans don’t leave the house in the morning without a glass of wine or two.

My best friend. I guess he’s my best friend. I’ve been calling him my best friend for so long that I don’t even stop to think about whether or not he even is anymore. I guess if I did I’d probably realize that he wasn’t but I don’t do that because that would just be one more thing. My best friend had a son yesterday. I mean his wife had it and he was there staying out of the way and all that. Good for him. Good for them. It’s odd.

It’s Father’s Day Sunday. I’ve got this wife. She has me at my wit’s end most of the time. I’m simple. Leave me alone and be there when I need you. Simple. I swear to Christ I’m losing my mind. I swear to Christ. I’ve got this boy, this son. Adam. He seems like a nice enough kid. I’ve only known him for seven weeks. He’s seven weeks old. I don’t love him. I don’t know why. He’s a good kid, interested. Looks around a lot. But I don’t feel anything for him. No sense of usucapience or paternalism. Then I’ve got this daughter. She’s three. I’m up the wall over this kid. Love love love this kid. I don’t get it. The boy hasn’t done anything to not be loved. He deserves for me to love him. He took a leak on me once and sprayed some shit at me but I don’t take that personally. That's what kids do. I don’t know. Maybe something from childhood. Maybe daddy didn’t show me enough affection. Kidding.

The old man’s got the cancer. Ass cancer. Colon. The day I found out, shoot the minute I found out I started writing his eulogy in my head. I would give it. Stand up in front of the people and give this really kick-ass eulogy about how he was this great guy and Vietnam veteran patriot hero type and all that. There’d be jokes too. I’d have people laughing, rolling in the aisles and crying and all that at the same time. It was going to be great. I picked out his pallbearers as well. It was going to be me. My cousin on my dad’s side (his brother’s son), my mom’s side (her sister’s son), two friends from school (one of whom just had the kid), and someone else I can’t remember. Maybe my sister’s husband but then I got to thinking that he might be abusing her and that it might not be the right thing to do to have the guy who was ruining your sister carrying your dads coffin so I’ve got an empty slot I need to fill. So there’s this great funeral where people leave after hearing this great spiel about life and love and death and motion and revolution and all that, leaving feeling inspired and humbled all at the same time. Nice.

Turns out he’s probably going to make it. Had his surgery, doing his chemo. Handling it like a day at the races. Eating like a barn on fire. Gaining weight. Gaining weight on chemo. What the fuck. I keep meaning to go with him to his appointments, figure it’ll give me something to think about. Take my mind off not wanting to have my mind on things but I haven’t done it yet. I keep backing out. Work is too busy. Kids have to go for a checkup. Drunk. So no eulogy yet. Probably for the best seeing as how I have to fill that empty slot on the coffin. Maybe just four of us. He’s not that big.