The new dog, in a cyclone of sharp little puppy teeth and a flood of puppy pee, has arrived. Boy Z is besotted, Dr. O’C resigned and Not Max slightly confused. Along with the peals of laughter and declarations of love, however, have been fits of tears. Puppies nip. It’s what they do. Not Max [...]
Posts Tagged ‘Not Max’
Riding a mule and leading a hound
Today is Not Max’s first birthday and I’m stuck in Whyalla, which smells remarkably like industrial solvents, diesel fuel and government money. Not stuck exactly, but on the other side of the state from my family. Story of my life right now. I love my job but she’s a needy mistress this semester, draining my [...]
And you feel so right, but how come you can’t sleep at night?
In the suburbs
I learned to drive
And you told me we’d never survive
Grab your mother’s keys we’re leavin’…
In my younger days, when the stress tide was rising, I used to pop on my favourite record at the time, crank the volume up to maximum and bathe in an anodyne sonic sea. Cheaper than Valium and a [...]
‘Cause there’s too many places I’ve got to see.
I was feeding Not Max his dinner last night listening to some music, as you do, when the inimitable opening chords of “Free Bird” came on the iPod stereo. “Free Bird” is currently on my iPod because I’ve been watching the outstanding, if slightly raunchy, ‘Californication‘ lately on my commute to work. The song plays [...]
Good morning, how are you?
I’ve been informed that Not Max is six months old today and that I need to write a post commemorating this because I did so for Boy Z. So, well done Not Max. Well done for keeping a smile on your face despite dealing with the negligent parenting that is the lot of the second child. [...]
Music and passion were always the fashion
Not Max, our now five month old son, doesn’t get a lot of face time here at A Free Man. This accurately reflects his position in real life, squarely in the shadow of his older brother. Boy Z walks and talks and runs and throws and hits a cricket ball and thus earns far more [...]
If I had hands I’d be a writer, if I had brains I’d be a man
This was going to be a different kind of post. I was going to write about how, come the middle of August every year when I was in elementary school, I got bored. How at some point during the dog days, summer ground to a halt and I got excited about going back to school. [...]
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