i wear my sunglasses @ night to spy on my girlfriend...

for the 2nd time in 48hours i made a note-to-self to mention something here, then found myself in discussion about it with someone who brought it up to me 1st.
i like darkers.
i recently figured out why i've always refused to buy expensive ones though- it's because i treat mine like atd's (all-terrain-darkers). when i wear them to the beach or the pool, i don't believe that when i'm ready to go in the water, somehow my eyes suddenly no longer need protection, so the darkers go in with me. when i wear them for jouvay come carnival, i have no problem letting them get covered in mud and body paint. and when i put them on to leave the house, i usually wear them the rest of the day until i get home and take out my contacts because i'm less likely to lose them when they're on my face and not falling off the top of my head. plus, i just like wearing them, even at night. they make me feel hidden and surreptitious. but spending big $ on a pair of darkers to abuse makes no sense.

and speaking of expensive darkers (zed), the early tales of the gremlin+me seem to have gone over so well that i wanted to give credit where it's due: the evil genius that possessed me to tell zed those fabulously terrible things was passed down from basil, our grandfather.
our grandfather was the best, and sadly, i have to credit one of the worst teachers ever for having brought me to that realisation. suzanne silvera (who i despise) made our class do the 'old people project' (her words, not mine) in high school, which required me to spend a certain amount of quality time with an old person. i chose my grandfather because the scrawny chinee seemed cool, i'd heard he was badass, and i wanted to learn to weld.
basil was a joy.
he gave me great books to read, taught me to weld, told me hysterical stories, became a good friend. i won't get all maudlin about him being gone- i try to remember that his being born with 2holes in his heart, being told he wouldn't make it past early adulthood, then happily drinking, smoking and fucking more than anybody else i knew until dying in his 70's, means he lived the way he wanted and lasted longer than expected, and i shouldn't be mad.
his doctor told him he had to quit smoking and basil replied that he'd dance on that doctor's grave, and did. basil married twice and still ran around as much as he could, spawning children left+right (and my grandmother still adored him so much that she still calls him her husband, even though he horned her repeatedly, left her, and married somebody else).
when he was ready to let life go he called the brother he hadn't seen in forever and told him he had to visit, waited just long enough to see him when he flew in, then went to sleep and didn't wake up again. at his funeral, we met his youngest known illegitimate child, who's younger than my younger sister. basil enjoyed his life like nobody else.
so this is my homage to the man who did bad things as a child, knowing he would get licks, then wore multiple layers of pants for the next few days to soften the imminent blows.
this is my homage to the man who thought proper revenge on an enemy should involve tying said enemy to a tree with his ass firmly planted on an ants' nest.
this is my homage to the man who believed in ice-cream, indian weddings, and sex on the beach.
this is my homage to the man who prob'ly woulda ponged me for wearing darkers in the dark, then said if anybody told me i shouldn't, i definitely should.
this is my homage to the man who told me i could read anything i wanted because schools don't know shit.
this is my homage to the man who thought young girls could be trusted with welding equipment.
this is my homage to a bad man who never pretended to be anything else and was beloved by anybody who ever spent a moment with him, a bad man who we all agree was one of the best people we knew.
walk good.