The Budget of Paradox

One of the last times Morey Percy talked to me, she said you had gone to Disney World with some other family. This was a long time ago, I know. But I remember her saying that you didn’t enjoy the trip very much.

Why? What happened?

In an earlier post, I mentioned Tacos Gobernador at Pueblo Chico’s.

Now, I can’t stop thinking about them. I can’t wait to get back there.

I would love to see you there some day. I really, really would.

Tacos Gobernador.

Sophia, you were 6 years and 2 months old when I last saw you. That was the day the judge ordered me to pay so much money, I had no choice but to go work overseas where my skills are worth more.

Money is all they care about. “They”. The retarded lawyers and corrupt judges.

Hear me out. I was thinking today. Suppose you knew a 6-year old girl who loved both of her parents. One day, her father is abruptly pulled out of her life and she never sees him again. If the father had been killed in an accident, or killed at work, everyone would have sympathy for the little girl. It would be heartbreaking to imagine such an event. No one would want the job of explaining to her that she’s never going to see him again.

If I had been killed in Afghanistan, or in some car accident, people (even “they”) would have sympathy for all of us. Your mom would dress you and your sister up in nice clothes and take you to the cemetery. You’d get the chance to put one of your toys in daddy’s “bye-bye box”. You would have a chance to grieve and hopefully find closure.

Daddy in his Bye-Bye Box with some of your toys

But when some idiot “family court” judge separates us (a man who, by the way, doesn’t know anything about your family or care anything about you) decides the same fate for us, no one cares.

In many ways, I’m already in the Bye-Bye Box.

But I’m still alive. And so are you. Someday, I hope you can see how fucking sick and cruel the system can be. All of this over some money.

I love you so very much. I’m not dead. I’m really here, on Earth, still sucking down oxygen.

You didn’t deserve what happened to you. Kids need two parents.

At some faraway airport someday,
I’m the dog and you’re in the red dress.

Sophia, I know you can’t – or won’t – join me. But a dad can fantasize, can’t he? One of my favorite bands is playing in concert in CDMX on May 30. In fact, it’s not far from the Condesa neighborhood where I normally stay when I’m in Mexico City. (CDMX = hip abbreviation for Ciudad de México.)

At this moment, there’s not much in this world I could imagine wanting more than to meet up with you again, and take you to a concert. I know Panic! at the Disco is more your speed. But the band playing in CDMX is Kraftwerk.

Kraftwerk… it literally means “power station” in German. They’re the Godfathers of electronic music. Maybe you’ve never heard of them, but their influence is all around in today’s synth-pop, hip hop, post-punk, techno, house music, ambient, and club music. They certainly influenced me when I tried to write music.

Today, it’s easy to write music with computers and synthesizers. But these guys were creating industrial music back when I was a child with primitive machines and even cutting audio tapes into hundreds of pieces and arranging them together by hand. They record in a studio called Kling Klang, a nod to their early low-tech instruments to make high-tech music. I saw them in concert in San Francisco 25 years ago at the famous Warfield Theater. I loved the show. For a while, they sent robots out on stage to perform.

I always liked the name “Kling Klang” even if it’s just their studio.

There are so many Kraftwerk songs I can suggest that you listen to. I’ll reduce it to three:
The Robots
Numbers
Tour de France

Their music might not be your cup of tea. But your dad likes technology and automation and industrial music. Get to know a little Kraftwerk and you get to know a little bit of me.

Again, they’ll play in concert on May 30 in CDMX. I’ve pointed out before that you can be in Mexico City in just a few hours. Flights go from Lynchburg to Charlotte and Charlotte directly to Mexico City. Sometimes, as I fall asleep, I dream about seeing you walking out of some airport somewhere someday to see me. There really isn’t much I’d like more than to see you. And if I could take you to a Kraftwerk concert, that would probably just make my head explode with joy.

And afterwards, we can go eat Tacos Gobernador at Pueblo Chico’s and you can practice your Spanish. Se me hace agua la boca.