Post by Deleted on Apr 6, 2019 20:50:41 GMT
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SPOTIFY - 01 - fashion, david bowie  BEING THE SON OF CLAUDE CRAWFORD & ZIPPORA VAN BUREN The jaded rock star and the groupie ingenue, what a cliche. My parents had a whirlwind, two year romance that was all the gutter press could talk about, though I imagine in reality there was a lot more lust and alcohol abuse than there was real love and affection. They met backstage and ignored the obvious age difference, my mom a Lolita figure by all accounts, her innocence a total affectation. I don't know my mom very well, but if my aunt and uncle are right about her, she was a wild child from day one. Irresponsible is how I would put it. She got herself pregnant, then jilted my dad at the altar once I was barely a few weeks old. My dad has got to be the least responsible man on the planet, so it's really kinda amazing that he managed to find and knock up the only woman more irresponsible than himself. My childhood was fun at first. Dad never really wanted the life of a suburban parent, having seen his twenties and thirties as a time for ultimate indulgence. I cramped his style. Still, I think he felt sorry for me, being motherless, so he did what he could: he became my best pal. Bought me all the toys in the world, multiples of every console, rented out whole theme parks for my birthdays. If you had a childhood fantasy, my dad would have given it to me. I'm grateful, believe me, I am. I was the most popular kid in school because my dad was the most popular overgrown kid himself, and I was really just there as his sidekick. It's not his fault, he made one stupid mistake and it wound up throwing a real spanner in the works. Not surprising, since he was and is one reckless fucker. There was one thing that stung, and still stings now. My dad always seemed like he was having a blast with me, even on the odd times he clearly felt uncomfortable, fidgeting at parent teacher conferences or cringing at school plays. He always made me feel like we were in cahoots, that we were the two amigos, that I was his miniature and he loved having me around. But my super careless, reckless dad was cautious about one thing from the day I was born right up 'til now, despite his carousel of young girlfriends. He's never, ever let himself knock another woman up. I know I'm probably being precious, but I dunno man. As a kid I thought it was special at first, before I started to see the strain round the edges of our relationship. Then I became a dad at twenty-one, and god, from the second I met Xander I knew all I wanted was more, more, more. It hurts to think that he could look at me and decide that was it, no more of that, no thank you. But hey, he's a manchild. Peter Pan if Peter Pan never had any interested in any lost boys. ON MY DESK  ![](http://i66.tinypic.com/34o7pxz.png") BEING THE SOON-TO-BE-EX WIFE OF JACK CRAWFORD "When I think about my husband, the thing I think of most is Tom fucking Ford's Oud fucking Wood cologne. From the day I met him, over five years ago now, he's been dousing himself in the stuff. It's so strong, one spray would be overpowering but I'm not fucking kidding, he bathes in the stuff. I think he's started sweating it. I hated it at first, thought it made him smell somewhere between a used car salesman and a Russian oligarch. I told him that the first time we met, literally told him he stank and it was giving me a migraine. You know what he did? He started wearing more of it. That's Jack for you, as stubborn as a mule. And you know what? Soon I came to love it. I was intoxicated by it, I still am. I get a whiff of that smell and it's so masculine to me, woody and spicy and sweet and strong. It sinks into his skin over the day, fresh and oaky in the mornings, mellow and peppery by evening. It is Jack, I don't know how to explain it. Warm and manly and soft and a little overpowering at times. That's my Jack. We don't strictly live together anymore, but that scent lingers... OK, I bought a bottle of it. It probably seems like I'm still smitten with him, and sometimes I am. Really the kids like to smell it when he's not around-- he has a bottle of my Jo Malone Grapefruit cologne for the very same reason. I know it hurts him to co-parent. His own mom was never on the scene and his dad was more of a playmate than a father figure, something he has tried to remedy with Alexander and Evelyn. He's given them the structure that he craved as a child. I'm so grateful for his willingness to be bad cop with them, as I see so many dads eager for their kids adoration at the expense of their respect, particularly when you think about how young he was when we had our first. Sometimes he can be too firm with them, but he's so naturally affectionate, it doesn't take long for him to win them back around. He's a wonderful father. You're probably wondering why the impending divorce. It's not money, though most people think it is. Neither of us has been unfaithful. But I think we would have been if we kept on. I can feel his youth fizzing away under his facade, I know that deep down, he craves freedom. We're great together but Jack took to his young father status so diligently, he forgot to let himself have fun with it. I had my wild phase in my teens, and I know that cooped up feeling. Jack is my best friend and I'd like to think I'm his. I have to let him be free, I have to let him go. If he comes back to me, then we can really build a home on firm foundations. If he doesn't? I'm glad I didn't waste any more time playing house. Who knows what the future holds."  BEING JACK CRAWFORD I'll miss my wife. I already do miss my wife. It hits you when you aren't expecting it to, not so much the waking up alone (I like having the bed to myself) or coming home to an empty house (any relief from daddy duty is welcomed), or even the long lonely nights (I have a girlfriend and she's a knockout). It's smaller moments. I was working a gig the other day, one where there were a few acts, small venue, good vibe. Casual. I noticed how these artists stood nervously at the side ahead of their slot on stage, fidgeting, clapping for the ones that came before them. But what struck me was that one by one, after their set finished, would soon find themselves in the embrace of their partner, who they would then sit down beside for the rest of the show, leaning against them, holding their hand, whispering. Why not before and after? I didn't even see them looking towards them during their sets. But that's what it is isn't it. That real support, the waiting in the wings. Real love is so quiet, it's allowing yourself to fade into the background when it's your partner's time to shine. I feel so torn up about it, Ally broke it off because she gets me so well, she knew I was itching though I never made a move to scratch that itch in front of her. Shouldn't you stay with someone who knows you so well? What do you do when the woman you ought to be with is the one you ought to be with because she knows you need to not be with her for the moment? Fuck, it makes my head hurt. I don't know what I'm doing. |
lex | reece hawkins | resident |