Silver Lining

I usually don't speak on my relationship with my mother except in the context of my upbringing and its impact on greater topics like racism or religion. This is for a few reasons: it implies I dwell on the matter, which I don't. When hearing we haven't seen each other in 7 years, someone inevitably makes the stupid comment that she's my mother and deserves another chance. And really, it's just a downer. It's one of those awkward moments where no one (other than the asshole above) knows what to say.

I am struck this morning, reading Jennifer Hillier's blog, doing a Nelson laugh (from the Simpsons if you don't get that reference). My father is dead and my mother could be for all the contact we have with one another. So when I write, when I kill, pillage, rape, murder, suck, fuck, and fondle characters of every age, gender, and religion, I never have to worry about explaining why I write what I write to my mother.

*points* Ha ha.