SOME DAYS THE DREAM DEAD, OR HIBERNATING.

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Sometimes Mozart, sometimes Phosphorescent. Sometimes alone, sometimes not. Sometimes strong, sometimes fragile. - - - @phosphorescentmusic #44dads #44music #selfportrait #josephivanlong #solitude There is joy and there is sadness, they are both parts of a whole life to own up to, to acknowledge. And to feel. December the beautiful; the warmest, the coldest month.

A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Dec 6, 2018 at 6:50pm PST

Some day, some days, the day is heavy,
and the days surrounding that day,

and you pick up a foot, and the other, and move forward, or somewhere,
and try to recall an inspirational meme that reminds you to be grateful for having two feet.

Some days,
the path ahead is paved with a giant screen illuminating the successful dreams you've been a part of helping build for others,

dream-making,

and you don't see your own pixels on that screen,

and the tired,
the discouragement, the dark
overwhelms

the light,

and the memory of having fought hard,
and you're tired of fighting and just have enough left
to keep going and moving a foot, and then another,

and hope that it will be enough
to keep someone else's dreams alive,

for the next day.

POEM : WHEN I WAS A KID, KID.

When I was a kid,
I did everything right, I did, I did.
Said proper things almost always,
Like ‘you’re welcome, thank you, and another jelly donut, please.’

When I was a kid, I was so good to be around.
A more delightful child could rarely be found.
That’s how I remember those things
Ah, the rush of memories my childhood brings.

I’m an adult now and way bigger than you
Because I obeyed my parents, I grew, and grew, and grew.
Every time they said do this, do that!
I said of course, I’ll do all my chores, a rat a tat tat!

They’d ask me once to do my choring
And if I recall, never once did I call them boring.
See, as a big person now,
I remember things exactly right,
Like how I used to say perfect prayers beside bedside at night.

Did I do everything a child should do just as it should be?
Whose to say? well, since you’re asking me, I’ll set the truth free.
I probably made mistakes,
Like leaving sharp end facing up on garden rakes

- Poor Grandma, sorry!

But really, the way I remember my days as a child
Is how I did it all perfect, and never ever was wild.
Did I ever do anything wrong?
Maybe twice, but didn’t last very long.

See, I’m super big now, and you’re a still a tiny kid.
So when I tell you all these things that I did.
You’re gonna have to trust me that I was super good at being a little child person,
Like you could be now, except I spoke proper grammar one hunnert percent and hardly ever used cursin.

There wasn’t the gramming of insta post racing
Or the chat snap post making of photo book facing.
Social meed wasn’t around when I was a kid
To share with the world all that I did.

So when I tell you all the true things about me,
Trust me and don’t read my teenage about me diary, you see, you can
Believe me that all I say to you now
Is exactly how I did it right, pretty much exactly almost how.

So when you do something wrong kid, when you misbehave,
When you’re a naughty, imperfect whiny kinda grumbling knave,
Trust me when I say I was the opposite,
I wasn’t like that, totally not, not one little iota or bit.

I managed childhood quite well,
And washed my hair good so I wouldn’t horribly smell.
I never peed on the potty seat
And I volunteered to help mom handgrind the wheat.

I said yes mommy, yes daddy dear,
Shall I clear everyone’s plates, it’s no prob, I’m really quite near!
In fact, shall I hand wash the cups and the delicate dishes,
Are there other chores you need done or tasks your heart wishes?

Dad, I can do four or five loads of laundry,
And mom, should I rewire the track lights, I’ll give you a good deal, how about for you...free!
I jumped in to tackle with both feet
My ego in check and initiative discrete.

Merely doing what needed to be dones
Because I was a child, like you now, daughters and sons
I didn’t grumble or mumble or fret or frown,
I knew those would let mom and dad dreadfully down.

I swept and I mopped and I made dinner for many
And accepted no earnings or pay, not a single bent penny.
I was a kid, and I did what had to be done,
Even the things that weren’t very much fun.

When my parents said ‘mow the yard,’
I said ‘OK, and then can I do another chore that’s even more hard?’
If there was a problem I had,
It was being too obedient a lad.

Children, doesn’t that sound like a fun problem to possess?
To be the best kid around and a little more, not less.
Cause being a kid is following orders exact
I think that’s how I remember what I tried to enact.

Please don’t ask my parents about when I was a kid.
Their memories are not always right about what I didn’t or did.
Just trust me when I say,
‘When I was a kid, I did things so perfect in every way.

Every day.’

Remember to not ask my parents about me.

JESUS WALKS TO THE CRAZY TRAIN, ALL ABOARD / J.M. LONG PROMO VID.

Did I drive my children to a summer Bible program and introduce them to Kanye West on the way there?

Afterward, when the attire of a teenage volunteer came up at this event and the kids were asking who Black Sabbath was, did I then segue to a sonic blast of

Ozzy's Crazy Train,
Sabbath's Paranoid,
Zeppelin's Immigrant Song,
and then Trent Reznor / Atticus Ross / Karen O's rendition of Immigrant Song?

Umm, maybe.

Our youngest thinks I look pretty awesome on the air guitar. I've been waiting decades to have someone look at me like that.

I think Jesus would have a good time laughing with me, and sometimes at me. And I think he'd like me. I like him.

___

My bro Jeremy "J.M.Long" Long has a new single out today.

I did an unasked for, totally unlegal promo for it.

@jmlongmusic

A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Jun 26, 2018 at 4:59pm PDT

MY MOM, A DAY, A DISHWASHER.

Today is my mom's birthday. She is 65. I have never known her to lie about her age or pretend to be anything other than the age she is, and that is inspiring.

I did not see her today. I saw her yesterday. And here is why.

Yesterday was Monday. The day before that was Sunday. Previous to Sunday, it was Saturday, or as we call it, Shabbat.

But it begins back in September of 2017, which is when the remainder of the year was full of promise. Children returned to formal education, the hope of autumn's death was sunny and crisp, and I had mapped out a handful of house projects to finish before winter came.

I was hopeful. Pragmatic and hopeful. A tenuous balance, but a doable one.

Then the floods came. Literally. Due to a sequence (or series) of sad (or unfortunate) happenstances (or events), a flood had literally come. Slowly. Slowly from a leaking aquarium tank. Slowly enough that it should have been caught, and for that, I take full responsibility in pointing the finger at my wife  for not picking up on it. Anyway, this slow flood took out two floors in two rooms - a bathroom and a bedroom. So plans and priorities started changing.

And then it felt like floods of the more metaphoric variety came, slowly and surely, and began erasing the hope that had been there. A slow descent into many things going...differently.

In this case, differently is a word I am using as an example of a euphemism.

Nobody died, we kept our health and friends and each other and made many fine memories and moments, but the hope of improving, one step at a time, parts of our lives that had seemed doable a short time before seemed to be disappearing into the mud.

And then more water after Christmas. A leaking dishwasher refusing to drain. To YouTube I went for tutorials and help from strangers. And from my father-in-law, who loaned me a couple T25 bits and a few hours of a Saturday night for some moral support and company as I laboriously walked through potential problems, removing one piece at a time, cleaning filters, hoses, and lines. Finally got it back together. Felt good. Ran a load. Looking good. Then headed down to work. Non-house work; work I actually get paid for and need to do. To bed at 7.30am. A new day dawns.

And a flooded dishwasher awaits. A flood that has wiped out a portion of the kitchen floor. Soaked, sopping, drenched. Yank the whole appliance out.

Discouragement. Total discouragement. Do I deserve to feel this? No. So many people who live in far worse circumstances and deal with far greater challenges and difficulties.

But this is also our reality; the reality of anyone and everyone who is trying to survive and care for their loved ones. The reality that there are those who have it better, and those who have it worse, and you can recognize and acknowledge and still be discouraged.

I was discouraged. Overwhelmed. One step forward, five steps back. Tired, physically and emotionally. Too discouraged to even complain or talk about it.

My parents came up Saturday night to hang out and watch Schitt's Creek with us. We didn't actually plan that, but it worked out that way, and was fun.

My parents pulled me aside, which I guess they can do occasionally, as they are still my parents, and informed me that:

A) we are getting you a dishwasher
and
B) we are sticking around to help you put it in.

I argued. Not fake argue, as in no, no, let me get my wallet out... but real argue. We'll be fine. I'll get the dishwasher going, it's not the top priority right now, etc.

They listened with bemused expressions and said:

We are getting you a dishwasher. 

I don't know what all they've done for other people. I don't know what all they've done for my siblings. I don't know all they've done for many others. I just know what they've done for me, and it's a lot.

It's one reason why I can never vote for, support, or respect the current President. I understand what it means to be gifted something. To be given something I don't deserve and didn't work for.

I understand what it means to benefit from being lucky. From being given something; something that many people don't have the expectation of receiving. A lot of preachers like to talk about the whole God and grace example, and that's great. That's the big example.

But this is my personal example. I have benefitted my whole life from things I don't deserve. I have tried to live with integrity and kindness, as many people do, but I have not done anything extraordinary to deserve special treatment or to be the recipient of the type of generosity I have experienced over the course of my life.

And here I was again, on the receiving end.

I said yes, and they won.

They headed out to pick one up - our children in tow - and returned hours later. My mom's birthday is today, so they had taken a couple days off work to enjoy...

...to enjoy a relaxing Monday helping install a dishwasher. My dad brought his magical bottomless toolbar of tools that fix anything, and what he didn't have he was able to dig up in our magical bottomless garage of stuff, and together he and I got it in.

As I lay with head cranked under the kitchen sink, catching a glimpse of the rest of our home from this painful vantage point, I thought back ten years to all the times my dad, or my mom, or often both, have helped us.

I thought of the mini-birthday holiday my mom sacrificed the lion's share of in order to help her son get a dishwasher in. I thought of the dollars they sunk into a dishwasher for us. Her birthday week.

Her insistence that this is how she wanted to spend her time.

My to-do list is still long. But sometimes, sometimes...getting that one thing that seems to be a catalyst for discouragement off that list is just what's needed for that little shot of inspiration/adrenaline/hope. Whatever it might be called. It made facing those other items a little more doable.

And what did I do to deserve it?

I am a child. A child of them.

I'll go straight on the nose for a rare minute: I can't help making the bigger parallel, as many of those pastor-people do, to the whole undeserving nature of grace and how it relates to God. How little we deserve, yet how much we can be given.

I'll also go straight political for a sec: when I look at my life and the onslaught of grace, of kindness, of generosity that I have been given, time and time again for no reason other than being born into and being surrounded by people who have exhibited those traits to me, then I think:

I will support leaders and politicians who aren't afraid to recognize and acknowledge those two ideas: grace and luck. The mandate to help each other out and not pretend like we've done so much on our own. What a slap in the face it would be for me to pretend like the successes I've had have come solely - or even primarily - because of my own work ethic and choices.

The great leaders and mentors recognize that we are here to help, to serve, and graciously, gracefully, build hope and build others up.

My parents have exhibited that so many times, and we have a working dishwasher again.

Birthdays. Thank you, mom, for the birthday present. Happy 65. The gifts you have given the world make it a better place every day.

And with our new dishwasher, a cleaner place too.

SORRY, WONDER WOMAN.

Dear Becca, 

Accidentally just deleted you from my "favorites" contact list on my mobile phone. Probably won't have time to add you back this year. Sorry. Text me.

___

There's a new superhero movie coming out tomorrow? Had no idea. Bah. Big deal.

BABY BJORNS, GORILLAPODS, SPONSORSHIPS?

Some athletes get sponsored by Burton or Nike. I don't know that deals with those brands are in my future, but I wouldn't be be surprised at all if @babybjorn and @gorillapod.official come tapping on my door. With my trusty BabyBjorn and a Gorillapod or two, I'll take a gaggle of tiny humans pretty much anywhere. Ball's in your court, guys, pretty much guarantee nobody runs your products any harder than I do. :) And a shout to @traderjoes Vancouver. They are so awesome. So awesome. ____ #evel0 #babybjorn #gear #childrening #traderjoes

A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Apr 28, 2017 at 11:22pm PDT

SIMONE BILES DRINKS TEA.

Can I have some of your coffee?
our daughter asked casually, confidently reaching for my drink.

No.
I said, pulling it away.
You're nine, I think. I'm not giving you coffee.

Well,
she said.
I like coffee.

Why?
I asked, ignoring the historical fact that she had been caught usurping my drinks more than once.

Because,
she said.
It makes me happy. And also, it makes me smarter, and it helps me have more empathy for people.

Wow.
I said, quickly finishing my drink.
You are good.

LITTLE TRAVELS : Tillamook, Rockaway, Oregon Coast whistling with my Dad

CLIFFHANGER.

Please sir!

they mobbed me, faces pleading, morning hair, faux-British accents in harmony,

Please may we have chocolate peanut butter ice cream for breakfast?! Please? It would help to calm our hype down! And plus, we have GMO-free ice cream, and we don't smoke, so please?! Please?!

No.

I said brutally.

And then,

IF YOU'RE SUPER GOOD, MAYBE WE'LL WATCH PULP FICTION TOO.

Here's the deal.
I said to the children.
If you guys are really good this morning, we'll listen to Radiohead. 

If we're not?
the question was posed.

Well,
I said.
Then we'll probably still listen to Radiohead. But one of their lesser albums, like Kid A.

#effectiveparenting #bribery101

FILE UNDER: THINGS I'VE LEARNED TODAY.

Daddy,
he said.
Guess what? Adolf Hitler was 56 when he died, and that was also the same age that Abraham Lincoln was when he died, so he was just a little bit older than you! Fifty-six!

Oh.
I said.
I will be 40 later this year, so it seems like that's still a little ways off.

Yeah.
he said.
If he hadn't died than he would have been 57 next.

Yep.
I said.
That's also a little ways off.

BULLETS OVER ____ (THIS IS A POLITICAL POST).

I have been a part of many conversations concerning guns over the last decade. When I say 'been a part of,' I mean 'standing on the peripheries, taking notes, synthesizing, and paying special attention to those who base their observations on evidence and sound reasoning.' With apologies to Jon Betlinski, whose thoughts I have come to value, my favourite conversation regarding guns was with our son recently, whose thoughts I also have come to value.

I wish,
he noted, staring out the window, that Storm Shadow didn't use guns.

Would you say that's your favourite G.I. Joe figure today?
I asked.
And why do you wish he didn't use guns?

Well,
he announced.
I don't really like guns.

Really?!
I said, thinking to myself that he must have really been processing the many dialogues we've been having as of late about elections, refugee crises, social topics of import, and critical thinking in general, and must have come to some sort of...epiphany, or philosophical understanding.

I just don't really like them anymore,
he said,
because the bullets get wasted.

Okay...
I said.
Elaborate?

Well if you're shooting at something and you miss,
he said.
then the bullets just go off somewhere and they get lost, so I don't really like them because I wouldn't want to lose bullets. Except I like harpoon guns though. Because they have a rope attached to them so the spear bullet thing doesn't get lost.

Okay...
I pondered this.
So the reason you don't like guns anymore is because of how bullets get wasted if you miss.

Yeah.
he said.
I just wish that Storm Shadow used a bow and arrow, like in Robin Hood.

Yeah.
I said.
That was a good film.

Yeah.
he said.
And if you shoot bullets and miss then they're lost and someone would have to go look for them, but if you shoot an arrow then it would just stick in the target and it wouldn't be lost.

That's a pretty compelling argument for bows over guns.
I said.

Yeah.
he said.
I wish I could have a target in my room so I could shoot a bow and arrow at it. I wish I had that.

I wish I had a jacuzzi on our back deck.
I said.

Maybe someday.

TOM, HUCK, HOME.

What does "homeless" mean?
he asked, gazing at the occupied corner of the SE Portland intersection and its cardboard-sign carriers.

You don't know what homeless means?!
his older sister screeched.
I can't believe it! We've talked a whole bunch about homeless people and you didn't know what homeless meant?!

Well...
he said.
I kind of know, but I didn't know EXACTLY.

Oh.
she said.
Being homeless means that you don't have a home to live in.

Oh.
he said.
Lucky.

Huh?
I interjected.

Well,
he said.
If you're homeless, it means you get to go camping every night.

Yeah,
she agreed.
That is definitely lucky.

Umm...
I said.
For many people, it's not something they WANT to be doing, or CHOOSE to be doing.

Why are they homeless then?
he asked.

A lot of different reasons.
I said.
Sometimes people lose their jobs and can't afford to pay for their homes or rent anymore, and sometimes people need special kinds of help but there's no one available to help them with the kind of help they need, and sometimes maybe kids run away from home because they have a difficult home life or family who's not very nice, and they end up living wherever they can on the street or in a shelter.

Sometimes,
she said wistfully.
I wish we had mean parents. Then we could run away from home.

Yeah!
her brother agreed excitedly.

Well,
I said kindly.
That is something your mom and I will try to work on. I'm sorry we haven't accommodated you in that regard.

It's just,
she said.
that it would be fun to run away some day, and go camping. If we had mean parents it would be easier to run away.

Yes!
I said.
We should do that!

NO!!
they said.
Not you! Just us!

Oh.
I said sadly.
Well...how would that work?

We would leave a note saying that we had run away.
she said.

Yeah.
he said.
And we'd be camping, probably by a creek.

That would be so fun!
she said excitedly.
And we'd need to pack stuff in a backpack...just the things we needed, like a lantern, and a book, and some snacks, and a sleeping bag. And a knife.

And also,
he said.
a camera.

Oh yeah,
she said.

(my heart burst)

Are we REALLY going to run away sometime?
he asked her.

Before you go,
I said.
You'll need to fill out a permission slip.

Okay.
she said.

And,
I said.
if it's approved, then we'll be all set.

Wait...
she said suspiciously.
What do you mean, "we?"

Well it goes without saying,
I said.
that we'd be going with you. What fun would it be to run away without your parents?

We didn't mean for you to go!
they groaned,
and turned to whisper to one another.

Just remember,
I cautioned.
Permission slips.

I ignored their whisperings of rejection and disgust in the backseat and internally began plotting my own runaway, with my wife, and minus them, because they were being mean, only I don't know who I should turn in a permission slip to. So I guess I'll have to stay un-homeless for another night. The kids are tucked in and sleeping soundly, which I know because I don't hear any sounds from their rooms...

THIS FIRE IS TOTALLY NOT OUT OF CONTROL...YET.

I heard a creak on the stairs, followed by the slow, deliberate footstep cadence that distinctly belongs to one person in the universe.

That one person in the universe made the 17-stair descent in less than two minutes, and entered my office. I had swiveled my chair around in readiness and was internally gambling over what topic his upcoming request would involve: asking for another old camera to experiment with, or finding out if I felt like taking a short three-hour break with him to play with my 1980s G.I. Joes that are rapidly Transforming from vintage to broken.

Hey Daddy.
he said.

Hello.
I said.

Here.
he said.

And stepped forward to set one half of a walkie-talkie set on my desk.

There.
he said.
And left.

I heard the plodding up the stairs, and called up a goodbye as I heard him summit and disappear around the corner somewhere.

I turned back to do whatever it was I was doing, which was something marginally higher than trivial importance, or maybe slightly lower. Then I was interrupted again. This time by crackly static. I thought initially it came from

my police scanner, until I remembered I don't have one anymore, and never have,

and then I thought it was my CB radio, until I realized I don't have one anymore, but used to,

and then I thought it might be the little yellow walkie-talkie sitting on my desk, which had truthfully been my first thought (I wanted to sneak in a reference to CBs somewhere),

- and of course that's what it was, because I already told you that a five-year old had delivered one to my desk sixty seconds before -

- then the static stopped.

And a voice came through.

A voice, a singing voice, his voice.

A five-year old voice singing Franz Ferdinand from his walkie-talkie, with all the cool fire and sneery machismo of Mick Jagger or Alex Kapranos,

as transmitted over a walkie-talkie.

I've seen Mercury Rev, and Muse, and Mates of State, and Metallica, and a hundred other concerts, some even by artists not starting with the 13th letter of the alphabet, but hands down,

honest-to-goodness,
no joke,
totally serious,
not exaggerating,

this was the best walkie-talkie concert I have ever experienced. The best.

"This fire / is out of control
Gonna burn this city / burn this city
This fire / is outta control"

He finished, and I tried applauding,
but he forgot to take his sweaty fingers off the transmit button, so I think my applause was a failure;

I yelled as loud as I could, minus fifty percent:

"That was SOOO AWESOME!"

And I hope he heard me, but he might have been busy setting up a pirate radio station or building a robot out of spare walkie-talkie parts by that point.

Of course the best stories all have a lengthy summary at the end, in which it is made certain that the reader has successfully learned the correct moral insight. Unfortunately I do not have time for a lengthy summary, but the lesson I learned from this story, and you can too, should you choose, which you should, is that if you're a musician or songwriter, you need to be very vigilant about people illegally performing your work without getting the necessary rights clearance for walkie-talkie performances, because these things can and DO HAPPEN, and they have the potential to literally rob many, many musicians and songwriters of their royalties, as it is possible there could potentially be dozens of listeners listening in illegally to eavesdrop on walkie-talkie music performances.

The French-ish duo Air actually did an entire album about this danger back in 2004. Check it out on iTunes, or maybe download it on Napster. It is chilling, to realize the avenues by which it's now possible to illegally listen to unlicensed music, and potentially put ASCAP and BMI out of business.

So the concert I heard was good, but at the same time, very dangerous and very wrong, and I took the walkie talkies out back and buried them* until he can learn to be more responsible about performing copyrighted music over the airwaves without appropriate clearance.

This Fire is not out of control, metaphorically, though there are many fires right now that are, literally, and there are many other things out of control too today, like children not learning how to responsibly use technology such as walkie talkies, and for that, I blame not so much our son, and not so much society, but mostly his parents, though not so much me, because I was doing something important at the time his mother should have been teaching him ethical walkie-talkie music performance use, and I especially hold his youngest uncle, Jeremy Long, responsible, because he has never taken the time, as a musician, to educate our son about the dangers of rampant and unvetted music performances over walkie-talkie and the potential legal ramifications that could follow him forever, and for that, again I blame primarily his parents, although again I absolve myself, due to having been doing important things at the time he should have learned these things.

So please, listen to good music, and enjoy responsibly, but try not to mix music and walkie-talkies. Fair warning. Have a good night, world. Find me on channel 2. Just don't try singing me an unlicensed song, because I'm not going to prison over a lapse in judgment on your part.

____

*I did not, but I strongly thought about it, and it seemed like a lot of work, — with Becca Nutter Long and Jeremy Long.

OH (A STORY ABOUT THE EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM AND ONE THING THAT MIGHT POSSIBLY BE WRONG WITH IT).

WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!
I shrieked at him in a hybrid scalding-scolding tone.
Why are you trying to crush that poor little ant?!

Daddy, I was -

I interrupted.
Listen, that little ant is not in our home. It's close to its own home. It's not hurting us, or invading our house, or eating our food. Why are you trying to smash it?

Well Daddy, I was -

I interrupted, out of necessity, because my lesson was not getting through.
Do you remember what hard workers ants are? They are valuable members of our ecosystem and we can learn a lot from them. This little guy here was probably heading home trying to get to his family when you, a big mean giant, almost killed him.

We watched the little fellow skimp along. I felt my son take a breath to try defending himself again, so I moved quickly to block it.

Listen buddy,
I said, not totally unkindly, with just the right mix of educational moment condescension.
We've gotta look out for people and creatures smaller than us, okay? When they're not bothering us, why should we go bothering them?

Okay.
he said.
But I was -

Just please listen.
I said.
Just listen, because this is important. It may be a little ant, but it's not a very kind thing to do to go killing creatures, no matter how small, just for fun, or because they're simply in front of you. Haven't we read enough Dr. Seuss and Far Side for you to know this?

Yeah.
he said.
I wasn't actually trying to kill it. It was walking toward a stream of water and I thought it might drown so I was putting my finger next to it to help it go away from the water so it wouldn't drown.

Oh.
I said.
Oh.

Oh.

Uh-oh.

LOST IN TRANSLATION, PT. DEUX.

DADDY!!

I sauntered down the hallway immediately-ish and peeked in.

Good night buddy.
I said.
Again. Everything still good?

You didn't say "shut the door" tonight.
he said, half-sitting up in bed.

What do you mean?
I asked.

You didn't say "shut the door" like you do every night. So can you say it please?

Umm...
I said, and then it dawned.
You mean "je t'adore?" What I say to you every night?

He thought:
Yeah. You didn't say that to me tonight.

Okay...
I said.
Do you remember what "je t'adore" means in French? It means "I love you." That's what I'm saying to you every night.

Long, intense thought-processing. Deep breath.

Well,
he said.
I'm going to pretend you're saying "shut the door." And also, will you please close my door?"

Oui.
I bowed, pulled his door more closed, and sneaked in one more je t'adore as I left. Again.

J'aime les petits moments.

Bonsoir.

EASTER.

Boy with dad, pt. II 

Boy with dad, pt. I

POSSIBLY OPTION 2 (DENMARK, ROBOTS, BOATS, RV, JAMES SPADER).

Daddy?
he asked.
Can we go to Denmark?

Why do you want to go there?
I asked.
I really want to visit Denmark too, but I'm guessing my reasons may be different.

Because,
he said.
There's a really cool LEGO museum there.

How do you know that?
I asked.

His sister jumped in.
Because I helped him look it up on the Internet!

Okay,
he said.
We can either go to Denmark this afternoon, or we can build a giant transformer that is full size and is so strong that it can lift 500 billion trees. You can choose which thing we do today, okay? Which one?

Well,
I said. What would we build a full size transformer out of? And I'm
guessing you're referring to Autobots, as opposed to the devices used in a power grid?

Yeah.
he said.
I was thinking we could build it out of metal and broken toys. And I wish I had a GoPro camera. Can I have your GoPro when it breaks?

You know,
I said.
You're welcome to use it when you want.

I know.
he said.
I just want to use it when it breaks so I can use it as a part for building a robot. It would look really cool on the robot's chest.

Oh.
I said.
Well I'm not planning on it breaking anytime soon.

That's okay.
he said.

We can just use metal and other broken toys then.

His sister jumped back in.
You know what I'd like to get today?

What?
I said.

Ice cream?

No.
she said.

A boat.

Oh.
I said.
Yeah, that would be cool. Probably not going to happen today. But good idea.

Or...
she said.
It would be better to get an RV for the summer. That would be SO COOL. Then we can get a boat sometime later this year. Can we PLEASE get an RV this afternoon?! You choose: which one should we get today: a boat or an RV?

Well.
I said.
There's a chance that neither one will happen today.

Are we going to go to Denmark or build a giant transformer today?
he asked.

Well.
I said.
MAYBE work on building a little robot.

Awww...
they groaned.

Well, then can we at least watch The Blacklist?
she asked.

In about ten years.
I said.

Now go do your chores.
____
ON A RICH LIFE.
The value on good conversations, day in and day out, is incalculable.
As supposed to having five hundred million dollars, which is very calculable, and could possibly be nice too, as I have not yet experienced that experience. But it also scares me, as I wonder what would be lost in having such calculable wealth. Friends with $500m...thoughts?

LOVE HURTS, BUT HONESTY IS MORE ANNOYING.

Daddy,
he said, looking up.
Sometimes, my father can be very irritating.

Really?
I said, looking down.
So you're referring to...me?

Apparently so.
he said.

A YEAR GASPS ITS LAST.

New Year's Eve cold cereal in a tenth floor hotel. Farewell, 2014. May the next year be filled with both many serendipitous happenings and occasional carefully orchestrated plans that unfold as planned. Man, I love this kid. "Daddy, he whispered as he was falling to slumber. "Why are pigs so smart, and why do elephants have such good memories?" Maybe next year I will have some better answers for some of life's toughest questions. HNY, universe :) ____ #jil38 #jxil04 #long2014 #44dads

A photo posted by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Dec 31, 2014 at 10:40pm PST

____

Traffic (Hallelujah to the Night). Song used wholly without permission, courtesy of @nevruaryband , @jem_long , @calelpryer , and @josh_pryer Jolly NY, world. Drive safe.

A video posted by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Dec 31, 2014 at 11:08pm PST