Just Ask James: Love
What’s great about James Spillane is that if you have a question about how to drunkenly punch someone in the face, start a huge bar fight, have the cops come, then make it look like the person that you punched is at fault because you are mentally handicapped, he knows the answer.
What do you think about love?
What is with all these vague questions? When I signed up for this gig, I thought I’d usually write a sentence or two of genuine advice, followed by a paragraph or more poking fun at the advice-seeker…
My idea of love:
Walking across a grass lawn and getting stung by a bee; my mother running to me, her mouth jumping upon me and sucking out the stinger.
My mother placing red and silver stickers on our childhood windows that let the firefighters know there was a young person in the room.
My father when he came back from sea, when he came back from India and Spain and brought bull horns and cobra skins.
Books: the way I could slip into them like a dream.
My sisters Erin and Laura — you should have seen them fight over a tee shirt…
My son Gavin, asleep. Once he was sick, and puked and shit at the same time. I pulled up his limp body and smelled the smells, holding him in my arms. His shoes which were soiled with fecal matter.
Sometimes I reach across all the stars.
Kim most of all, and this crash I have sliding down a hill of ice where I can control it and she is afraid to drive. I drive it every day. She gives me the keys when she has to get to work early… Jamie, can you drive me down the hill? I throw on my coast guard hat. Most of my life is dream, but I am good at this, dreaming and driving cars down icy slopes.
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