Tuesday, September 26, 2017

2 years since

My dad died two years ago today tomorrow. 

My dad died with Trump still just a joke. Not an evil joke masquerading as president.

My dad died two years ago and our relationship lives on. I talk to the guy. I was up at 5am the other day running up my hill and walking next to the freeway talking to the guy. I was getting pumped up. I did it Dad. My damn script finally got made into a damn movie. Fuck Dad. All those damn phone calls and conversations and bucks lent to me keeping my dream afloat and it’s almost unrecognizable but it finally got made.

My dad died believing in me. He wrote me this great email a couple weeks before he passed. He watched a short film I made with my brother Travis and a couple friends. He said I was good. He said I was exceptional. He said he forgot it was me acting in the film I wrote. It wasn’t me dad. It was me hiding in a story up some mountains with my friends trying to create while you were wasting away in physical form. He said stay positive in the email. 

Earlier this year I was thinking Dad I wish you could see how well I’m doing for a haunted man. Now I’m thinking Dad I’m not haunted, I’m full. I’m full and scared but full of life and living it even if it feels overloaded.

My dad died telling me to hold out for love that made my head spin. Dad, I found that head spinning love. I like her too. I know you’d like her too. It’s so wonderful liking the person you love. Like, I liked you Dad. How like it had a bunch of bad in between time for us but how you and I found each other and liked each other again.

My dad and his friend used to call each other with ideas for Seinfeld episodes. I remember hearing his laugh down the hall from my bed, when Seinfeld was airing originally. My girlfriend always brings up episodes. I call her, she says she is watching Curb. This is all early. This is all before she knows how much I love hearing it.

My dad died drugged and distant from laughter. His sense of humor shrouded by painkillers. In that pain was the humor but he felt neither those last few days. I remember helping him off the bathroom floor after he fell and couldn’t get up. I remember him brushing his teeth the day before he died, like he was going to need them where he was going. Maybe to show them during laughter.

My dad died and yet he is right here. It’s amazing how I hear him when I groan getting up from a chair even though I’m not old yet. I groan like he did, that comical groan.

My dad how nice you were. A sarcastic asshole at times but how nice you were. An ironic remove at times but how nice you were. My dad how you and I laughed when we found each other again. How we used to make fun of Lakers back up power forward Vladimir Radmanovic and his interest in snowboarding.  

I wrote this joke on twitter today cuz I have been obsessed about this crazy world Dad. You wouldn’t believe this crazy world Dad. Yes you would. You made a living trying to heal this crazy world. One individual at a time. 

Dad I made this joke on Twitter today said if I have a son I am going to name him after you dad. I am going to name my son Dad.

-Josh Turek

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Watching music videos

I wanted to ask how were you wounded

I wanted to hear an answer

I have all these visions plaguing me of all these people I've known


Recognizing in my mind

memories of times they described that just didn't sit right

And me, too oblivious to peer in,

And ask them

Who was it you were when you were there and were you wounded

And what did it become in you and

Who are you

Who are you without the wounds

Who are we when we are becoming true

I don't want to breathe anew

I don't want to breathe anew

I am tired

I am blue

I am no longer new

I don't want to

ever be new

not ever again

Sunday, September 3, 2017

El mes de mi padre