Скачать или смотреть My dad was nominated for two Academy Awards AND told me that he wouldn’t hang my art in the garage

I loved my mom and dad more than life itself. And what I appreciated most, second to their unconditional love, was their unvarnished advice. You’ve got to remember that this was the 1970s-80s and we lived in an entirely different world. I swear that compared to life today it was night and day. I remember my first premonition of the nightmarish millennium to come. I was headed to South Beach for spring break during my last year of college and I was departing from NATIONAL AIRPORT (before it became fvcking “Reagan-National Airport”) in DC. I expected to simply walk on the plane with my thick paper tickets that customers use to have to pick up ahead of time at an authorized airline retail location or travel agent. Back then computers were primitive at best and NOBODY, save for the military and a few computer science departments at large universities (Stanford and MIT for example) used or even knew about an “internet.” You didn’t even have to show ID to get on a plane. You DID have to walk through a Fischer-Price X-ray machine. But the lazy airport security guard (literally a rent-a-cop) didn’t even look at the screen when your carry-on bag passed through.

THE PREMONITION: I was running late for my flight (as usual) and the guard asked for my ID. I still haven’t recovered from the trauma. He told me that I could no longer just board the plane with my carry-on. He said i had to check in at the baggage desk with the agent so she could check my ID and WEIGH MY CARRY-ON before I could board. I MISSED THE FLIGHT. My carry-on was something like 30 lbs overweight 😂. I always loved cramming everything into a carry-on bag back then because checked luggage would take at least an hour to before it was loaded on the carousel at your destination.

Anyway, I caught the next flight but it was at the expense of a new pair of Rollerblades. I literally ave them to a kid leaving the airport. [Go fvck yourself!! They were cool back then!]

Oh, my dad literally told me not to be an artist because he said i have no artistic talent whatsoever 😂. And RIGHT HE WAS 😁🤣🎨 . . But he didn’t give me the Cliff’s Notes version of his advice about me not having artistic talent. Dad proceeded to explain to me with examples why I have no innate artistic creativity. He said i have a nauseating approach to color blending. Dad told me that I lacked any sense of creative spacial awareness. And I’m not just talking stuff like “linear perspective.” No, he pointed out how I would hang paintings at the same height in the same room. He told me that I arranged furniture like a “mentally deficient” person (we use to call them “retards” - but I repent 🙏). And, again, he was right. I’m lazy and have ADHD. So when I’d move into an apartment I would place all the furniture up against the wall and leave the center of the space EMPTY.

“You can judge a restaurant by the bread it serves.” - more of dad’s sage wisdom


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