Uncle Robert

It is official.
Jackson has entered the world.
I am an uncle.

I have been so stressed for the last couple of days for a few reasons.
One is that my sister was taking these hypnobirthing classes and hell bent and determined to give birth to a baby without drugs. I think they call this natural childbirth. I call this passing up the chance for some perfectly good pills. I kid. She called me upset and asked me to pray for the baby as his butt was where his head should be, a state of being with which I am all too well aquainted.

So today, I get the call that now the baby's feet are where his head should be and that the doctor has decided to do a c-section before things get out of hand. The baby was born. My sister is numb. All is well.

I went to get my hair cut at 5:30 with Tommy. Tommy is this oldschool punk/glam rocker who lived in the East Village when it was still scary to walk down the street at night and when people shot up heroin on the steps of the buildings where they were squating. I am devastated. Tommy told me that this would be the last time he cut my hair as he is moving to Portland. What will I do? He recommended me to someone named Raphael. That's too exotic for me. That sounds like a love affair that ends badly. I may just shave my head.

K has moved in with me. It's offically unofficial today. His apartment fell through, so I told him he could crash with me until he finds another place. I worry that he thinks he's an imposition. Does he not realize that I love him with all of my heart. He could never impose. He is my little bacon bit, afterall.

On Labor Day, I go back into the studio for a 6 hour session. I hope to have something with which to tickle your ears when I walk out.