grapes

i remember when i was a child...playing outside with my brother and his friend...being essentially excluded...my father called me in...i thought i was fucked...time for another beating...he sat me down...and shared his grapes with me...(in a way...that probably fucked me up more than being hit)...anyway...when i think of my father...i try not to think of the rapist...the child beater...the raging alcoholic that ripped the phone off the wall...those things are all true...and only an idiot would deny that dynamic of the "relationship"...i try to think of them there grapes...green ones opposed to red..."what is true... good...pure and right...meditate upon these things"...we become what we hold before us...luv stu