Actually I want to continue this entry since I was so asleep last night. I guess what I was starting to get at, is one of the sad things that comforted me thru all the shit and high school and just feeling so displaced was the idea that I would work out my life. I�ve never had brothers and sisters to be measured against, and there certainly hadn�t been any college graduates in my family really, let alone anyone artistic or creative. So here I am, surrounded by these people who are my �family� and everything they know about me is thru all the memories of when I was much younger or thru whatever information my parents might have said to them. And to just sit there and feel so weird and worthless, shaving off layers of my esteem into my lap while trying to smile politely and keep everything so ridiculously surface and innocuous was difficult especially since they all kept saying that they had heard I was considering moving to Texas, and at least three of the four times I was asked that, they followed with �just don�t move to close to those Mexicans� or some such shit. There�s nothing I find more contemptuous than some proudly patriotic, slovenly religious, completely idiotic backwoods pudgy white �American� morons and their small inner circle bigotry racist bullshit. And my uncle has always been this way, and he�s passed it on to his sons except one of them went into the military and was stationed in the Philippines were he met and fell in love with a native Philippine woman. They now have three boys and they were all there and it still it escapes them how hypocritical it is. Look, the only thing that changed is Philippino jokes are off the list, everybody else though is still swamp water to them. And if there is anyone that deserves such derision, it is these muddled morons crapping up the food chain and my goddamn ancestral tree.

The only funny part to the story was at one point when everyone except my uncle, (whose in his sixties and the brain is REALLY going), his mother-in-law and father-in-law, (who are in their eighties) and myself were in the living room, and they attempted conversation. With the insane combination of age, heavy digestion, and whatever aids cocktail size pharmacy of medications they are on to keep them going, conversation ended up fading into garbled wash: My uncle: When I was little,.. Thanksgiving.. what�s that about? What�s that holiday for? Mother-in-law: Hunh? (said heavily sedated and a bit hard of hearing). Uncle: I said, what�s Thanksgiving about, do you know?� Mother-in-law: If you were cold, you could warm yourself up with that� Uncle: �What?� Mother-in-law: That, (pointing only with eyes at a lit candle in an orange, smoked glass holder). Uncle: �They stink don�t they? Stinks up the whole house with those things�, (referring to my aunt and her insatiable desire for gaudy flea market crap). �Well Thanksgiving was when the Pilgrims came over to America, and they invited the Indians to eat with �em. That�s what this is about�. Mother-in-law: What? Uncle: Thanksgiving. Mother-in-law: Ohh. (returns to watching televised dog show with glazed over looking father-in-law) God help us all, I think 2 out of the three of them are still allowed to drive�.