So I guess this is the next wave of Dad Rock?  I mean of course not.  But, I guess it might be?

I've been listening to this kinda stuf for a while and it's this kinda of stuf that makes me excited to be a dad.  Though I seriously doubt anyone besides me will care about my book and record collection when I die, I've always considered future generations of Jacks when building my library.  Now that there are only two months left until Francis is born, I am concerned that my Thelonious Monk and my Marcel Proust  are just and totally wrong.  While I have DFW and TMBG, I don't know if my library is enough of a reflection of me.

Right.  I know that They Might Be Giants and Dinosaur Jr. aren't really the same.  But, they are more me than any Jazz or Classic(al) record I own.  And Proust is great and so is Monk but what kind of boy to I take myself for?  

As much as I'd like to be the guy that could appreciate a 25 year old single malt scotch with some Jazz ( which I guess I could), I'm really the guy that likes to mix Jim Beam with Orange juice and listen to fuzzy noise so that my body can get so sick of my brain that it just pushes it away and goes with the flow it can't get to know while sober.

And but so here I am, two months away from meeting my first born, a-son-no-less, drinking a Micro-brew and trying to figure out which books I am going to read to him first (probably DON QUIXOTE).

I guess I am trying really fucking hard to make a person that is not going to be into Adult Swim and blogs that are overly reliant on YouTube.  I might manage.  At the very least, he'll get a bigger head start by going to more museums and having been read more books and hearing more substantial music.

Maybe. 

Maybe.

Maybe.

Jesus Christ...

Maybe.

Maybe a boy can turn out to be sophisticated and brilliant when his dad is all grown up and still listens to grunge and considers Tim Heidecker to be the ideal father figure.