Birthday dinner came and went. they both liked my food, even though my dad said he did not really know, why people turned their potatoes into gnocchis. He asked for a second serving...
He made me a cake too! I was really touched by this, because after my mom died he said he'd never bake and I could take all the "gear" from his kitchen. And he hates seperating eggs fom yokes and it really was a big deal for him and he talked about it as if he'd fought a lion. The kitchen - place of countles wonders and adventures. I was happy. I thought I wouldn't get a cake, but I got two. Nothing sadder than baking your own birthdaycake to me. Now I can live off these the next days. Let them have cake!
My dad looked at my stuff, pictures, drawings, the paperobjects I have been working on recently and said why I didn't try to make a living out of them. He is a cool dad. He would never tell me to get a real job, he wants me to be an artist. First of all he wants me to be happy. I love him very much, and on days like today I remember that more than ever.
I really dreaded the day. My first birthday without my mother. It was alright. I didn't feel half as bad as I thought I would. Live goes on and on and on. You may feel weird and so fuckin far from normal, but the world doesn't care. That's solace to me, too. Things will go on, whoever is dying, sick, unhappy in love or desprate for whatever reason. The world don't give a shit. Puts your head right, sort of. Gosh, I sound like a douche....
I got gifts too! Attack in Black's "Marriage" from my sister and a book of the paintings of Lucian Freud from my dad. I asked for both these things, no surprises therfore. Pretty cool anyway...
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