Thursday, March 01, 2007

Also, found on a thumbdrive...

Five Dollar Boom Boom...

My mom's from Vietnam. Yup, I'm first-generation-born-somewhere-other-than-that-place-guy. My older brother was born there too. Why don't we have the obligatory X-Men-Cyclops eyes? Don't know. Don't care. I always look tired anyways, so it doesn't make much of a difference in the long run. I had a bad mother. She's nice and all, but sucks in a lot of departments when it comes down to the final inventory. No big deal. No bad feelings. No skin off of the Irish-Vietnamese back. Tonight at the bar, I was engaging in some type of conversation that I thought was important, when I heard my name being called...There was a small, smiling lady selling something. With my bad vision, I thought that it was roses. But it wasn't. She was lugging around a wooden display case full of bracelets. That was probably why the lady was brought to my attention. I'm one of the only guys left with a girlfriend. So everybody was directing the lady towards me. Nobody wanted anything. The bracelets were okay. Nothing special. What was special was that I bought one. That she was smiling, even though that she had to try to sell cheap trinkets of homemade beauty to a bunch or worthless kids. What was special was that she always had a smile on her face. What was special was that I could hear people making racist comments behind her back, even though two of them were black. What was special was that she danced to the live band that was playing as she left the bar. The only money that she had was what I gave her. She danced away with a smile on her face as people made fun of her. These are the same people who probably made fun of my mother years ago when she came to this country. The only reason that she was here, and the only reason that I exist is because she met a handsome white guy. A guy that gave up the job that he loved to shack up and do the nasty with a beautiful girl. Nothing mattered. All that my father wanted was what was best for the both of them. They asked why I bought the cheap bracelet. I half-joked that I was watching out for my own. I told them that that was my mother who just left. They said, why, because she was Vietnamese?

I said no...because she was a person, you fucking idiots.

6 comments:

thedexter said...

My dad is Thai and my mom is some down-home Amish born chick from Pennsylvania. My dad came here when he was a teenager and told me stories about people being really fucking cruel to him, that kinda turned him into racist douche. He kinda feels like a foster dad, he pays for my shit and treats me well, but doesn't act like a DAD dad. I'm not sure if him having a really shallow childhood has anything to do with his lack of father skills...actually, that has to be it now that I think about it. Oh well, I could be in far worse places.

I'm just worried about my kids.

Anonymous said...

I still remember this from when you first posted it.

boz said...

That last comment was me.

Barney said...

That was very touching, Kevynn. Whatever else you do with your life for that alone you can never be a bad man.

Anonymous said...

Thank you.

Lisa said...

I loved this post so much the first time. It is a classic--with is chrome fenders and white leather seats and its generous curves and its hulking frame.

And I dig theDexterDear's little moment of therapy--blogging is so fucking great!!!!