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Tucker out
Feb. 15th, 2007 11:29 amThe clown Tucker had come to stay with us before in late 2004 when desperate help was needed. Prior to the rescue mission he was simply an old college friend of Paul's.
Things were dark in our house then, the days slumped over one another like cold molasses and he sat with Paul and me, together and apart, listening to whatever sordid blackness issued forth. Sometimes I wouldn't say anything while he sat with me. I would just stare silently at the kitchen table and jab whatever sharp thing I had handy into my leg to keep from crying in front of him.
He took me out to see Robyn Hitchcock that year on Halloween and got me very drunk. Alcohol rarely washes away pain for me, but it does make it soggy and less threatening - like hearing angry cursing under water.
He went back home to South Carolina after a bit and three of us communicated regularly about how life was waxing and waning. Then he said he had gotten a contract job with a circus in Japan for nine months with an option to renew. He needed somewhere to stay until then and help purging all of his possessions.
He came four months ago with his Honda loaded down with everything he owned and moved into our guest room in the basement with his cat. It was so very different from when he was here before, things were nearly back to normal in the house and so instead of heavy voice cracking discussions there were late night goof sessions where we all smoked and drank and played RISK. We saw puppets and art galleries and went to see terrible rock bands play empty shows on Tuesday nights. We watched Marx brothers movies and Don Hertzfeld shorts and Tucker would laugh and laugh until he slipped from the armchair onto the floor, eyes weeping and giggling with an infectious fervor until the three of us were incapacitated by humor.
We snuck liquor into the Varsity and drank Champagne with Chilidogs.
So last Saturday morning at 5:00AM we put him on a plane to Japan with his giant shoes and juggling things and his beautiful perfect way all packed tightly into suitcases.
Paul and I drove home with an empty car crying big fat tears.
To Mr. Aaron Tucker: Your tall stature and broad shoulders not withstanding, Japan doesn't know how much bigger it just got. Our minds are overloaded with joy for you although our hearts are utterly broken. All the love we have goes out to you, we even turned out our pockets.
Thanks for the new cat.
Things were dark in our house then, the days slumped over one another like cold molasses and he sat with Paul and me, together and apart, listening to whatever sordid blackness issued forth. Sometimes I wouldn't say anything while he sat with me. I would just stare silently at the kitchen table and jab whatever sharp thing I had handy into my leg to keep from crying in front of him.
He took me out to see Robyn Hitchcock that year on Halloween and got me very drunk. Alcohol rarely washes away pain for me, but it does make it soggy and less threatening - like hearing angry cursing under water.
He went back home to South Carolina after a bit and three of us communicated regularly about how life was waxing and waning. Then he said he had gotten a contract job with a circus in Japan for nine months with an option to renew. He needed somewhere to stay until then and help purging all of his possessions.
He came four months ago with his Honda loaded down with everything he owned and moved into our guest room in the basement with his cat. It was so very different from when he was here before, things were nearly back to normal in the house and so instead of heavy voice cracking discussions there were late night goof sessions where we all smoked and drank and played RISK. We saw puppets and art galleries and went to see terrible rock bands play empty shows on Tuesday nights. We watched Marx brothers movies and Don Hertzfeld shorts and Tucker would laugh and laugh until he slipped from the armchair onto the floor, eyes weeping and giggling with an infectious fervor until the three of us were incapacitated by humor.
We snuck liquor into the Varsity and drank Champagne with Chilidogs.
So last Saturday morning at 5:00AM we put him on a plane to Japan with his giant shoes and juggling things and his beautiful perfect way all packed tightly into suitcases.
Paul and I drove home with an empty car crying big fat tears.
To Mr. Aaron Tucker: Your tall stature and broad shoulders not withstanding, Japan doesn't know how much bigger it just got. Our minds are overloaded with joy for you although our hearts are utterly broken. All the love we have goes out to you, we even turned out our pockets.
Thanks for the new cat.
