Tuesday, February 17, 2004

A little me to fill up with my thoughts 

Having kids is a wonderful and a scary thing. You try and teach them the right things, and at the same time hope that you don't pass on to your kids all the things you dislike in yourself. Problem is, they live with you, and they see everything. Then you look at your parents, and see the things in them that used to irritate you being repeated in yourself. Fear and self-loathing. My favourite commentary on this topic is from Philip Larkin:

They fuck you up your mum & dad,
They may not mean to but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had,
Then add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern,
And half at one anothers’ throats.

Man hands on misery to man,
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

And bugger me - I typed this yesterday, uploaded it this morning, and then I see the latest from the Bottle Shop, who is going through a poetry phase. Guess what? A Larkin poem in today's post. Now everyone is going to think I copied him. Swine.

Listening to: Bob Dylan, Highway 61

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