Someone once told me that they don’t date Asian men because they remind her too much of her dad. I don’t want to fuck my dad, you know what I mean? I knew she was making excuses but I got sad. I realized:

Why not fuck your dad? I mean, not actual penetrative intercourse, but don’t we long for affection from our fathers? I, for one, would give anything to be able to hold onto childhood memories of a father embracing me, letting me hold his hand no matter where we were, kissing me tenderly on the head when I need encouragement, running his fingers through my hair till I fell asleep, reading from his intellectual magazines while I played with my walkman, give me a little foot rub, hug me from behind while we watch a parade defile our main thoroughfare, cherishing a moment in public when it is clear as day that we love each other. I would love nothing more, frankly.

Dad’s in Okinawa now caring for his brother and I think he should stay there, if I’m being honest. It’s been really good for his mental health and maybe now he can come to terms with why he fled home in the first place. A happy father is probably a good thing. Full circle is a nice composition.