2. Good for You
Jun 24, 2018 ·
24m 32s
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Description
In this episode of Paper Brain, I explore my family's history with Alzheimer's disease, my parents' somewhat rocky relationship, and my own journey towards becoming closer to my dad. My...
show more
In this episode of Paper Brain, I explore my family's history with Alzheimer's disease, my parents' somewhat rocky relationship, and my own journey towards becoming closer to my dad. My coming out, I think, is the final step on that journey.
This episode contains discussions of alcohol abuse.
All music in this episode was composed by Kevin MacLeod and can be found at incompetech.com.
Like Paper Brain on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/paperbrainpodcast/
A Father's Paper Brain (2014)
by Melody Peter Young
Your mind is in recycled boxes and taped to our cabin walls
on sticky notes, frayed paper faces and ripped pieces of
calendars. Your words all jumbled, built of runny dry-
erase ink. Birthdays, passwords, piled to mountains,
you don’t live in the redwoods anymore. You don’t
live in your shoes or your metal-worn hands,
you exist in paper: trucks of it, packets,
leaves, dangling from corners like
the wailing streamers of a New
Year’s horn. You live there,
prodding eternity with
one hand, nudging me
with another. Paper
curls, ink fades;
but your laugh
still bursts
between
my teeth
in shaven
shards
of air.
show less
This episode contains discussions of alcohol abuse.
All music in this episode was composed by Kevin MacLeod and can be found at incompetech.com.
Like Paper Brain on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/paperbrainpodcast/
A Father's Paper Brain (2014)
by Melody Peter Young
Your mind is in recycled boxes and taped to our cabin walls
on sticky notes, frayed paper faces and ripped pieces of
calendars. Your words all jumbled, built of runny dry-
erase ink. Birthdays, passwords, piled to mountains,
you don’t live in the redwoods anymore. You don’t
live in your shoes or your metal-worn hands,
you exist in paper: trucks of it, packets,
leaves, dangling from corners like
the wailing streamers of a New
Year’s horn. You live there,
prodding eternity with
one hand, nudging me
with another. Paper
curls, ink fades;
but your laugh
still bursts
between
my teeth
in shaven
shards
of air.
Information
Author | Mel Y |
Organization | Mel Y |
Website | - |
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