hello kitty

When I was with Zane yesterday, I was looking at Dan and Kelli's bookshelf and a memory of my dad popped into my head without permission. Him reading Hemingway's The Winter of My Discontent to me. I also remembered him reading The Hobbit to me when I was really young. Another memory: him randomly coming home and giving me a really nice copy of The Little Princess. I guess we had a book thing, him and I. Books and writing, really. These are the only two things I can remember ever connecting us in a some tender way.

One christmas, I decided to put some thought into his gift. I was trying to be nice I guess. I went to boarders and read the back of about 20 science fiction novels. Something I remember hearing about my dad is that he started a novel of his own about these astronauts who come across life on a different planet. Anyway, that kind of stuck with me and that's why I ended up at boarders reading the backs of strange books. I picked one and wrapped it. He never read it. I remember coming home from somewhere and him reading one of the Harry Potter books. I guess the point is, I did try that one time.

I want to tell him he should read the book I got him and maybe that will inspire him to finish his novel. Maybe I'll tell him this when I'm ready to. Maybe we can re-connect over books or something. Here dad, read Full Frontal Feminism and I'll read one of yours. It seems like it could be a decent way to get to know the guy, and for him to get to know me b/c I have no fucking clue who he is outside of his anger. I know his anger better than anyone in the world, I'd like to know something better than that.