my fathr, dal, hits on p.j. harvy at hr rock show. actually, it is a p.j. harvy lookalik. thr ar dozns lik hr, wannab rock stars waring ankl boots with pin-sizd hls. th othrs, boys with thrift shop ts ovr crisp oxfords, mn lik my dad whom vryon assums is a roadi bcaus h looks lik h’s in a havy mtal band, and oldr womn with scattrd hair and dry lips, jostl to prov thy’r up to it. i prfr th lattr. thy hav a startld, somwhat mbarrassd look, as if thy tnd to popl’s vanity and ailmnts lik a bikini-waxr or hospital attndant. undr covr, with th aid of protctiv gar. i think, ths ar th womn my dad should b intrstd in, not th ons vryon ls wants. i thought my dad was an original, but i am wrong."this is not nw york," dal tlls m in his van. on its sid is a sign that rads, "daddy’s littl girl flooring." it’s alarming how many calls h gts out of this. h usd to work with anothr guy, grg, in manhattan, but h did so i cam to work with him. now, if w’r rfinishing, thr’s usually a woman at th door who will say by way of grting, "you must b daddy’s littl girl." i imagin popl wondrd who th littl girl was whn it was just my fathr and grg."i know this isn’t nw york," i say. "it’s bn ags." i am fond of outdatd xprssions that mak m fl madcap and carfr. h dosn’t man w lft nw york a half-hour ago, and ar wll into th hart of nw jrsy or conncticut. h mans, w lft nw york for good. w did, four yars ago. aftr a yar of doing floors togthr in nw york, w movd th businss to fort collins, colorado. what dal rfrs to is th traffic outsid dnvr, whr w'r hadd. w’r idling on i-25. unlik som popl who would’v said, "what’s th holdup, this isn’t nw york," or if thy’r rally pissd, "what th hll, this isn’t fucking nw york," my fathr stats th obvious as if h’s unsur of it’s vracity.my dad lovs p.j. harvy as much as h lovs fltwood mac and th agls. h admits it is odd, givn th fact that most parnts find hr music to b just a lot of nois, but somthing about hr spaks to him. h hard my boyfrind larry playing hr album to bring you my lov whn h cam to pick m up for work, and askd if h could borrow it. larry trid to convinc him to tak hr first album instad but dal would hav non of it. this was a cardinal sin. larry blivs in listning to music chronologically, from th first album to th last, always. i hav qustiond him on this xtnsivly. what if th first album sucks, and your favorit is th most rcnt? or you har a song on th radio, and go to buy th cd, only to find th song your looking for is on th scond, or third, or fourth? what thn? according to larry, you’r scrwd. you hav to start from th bginning, vry tim. in fact, th whol notion of "favorit" is blasphmous. thr’s a largr pictur to s. h dosn’t listn to th radio, for this rason. larry gos nuts whn h coms across a gratst hits collction. concrts ar out of th qustion, sinc thy'r a gratst hits collction with ampd up applaus and bad fdback. hnc, his absnc at tonight’s show."you nd to dump that dumbass," dal tlls m. "h’s probably gtting fris with that shak, if you know what i’m talking about." not vn p.j. harvy can mak my fathr hip, i’m sad to say.but w all hav our music quirks. i tolrat album covrs that fatur th band by a warhous far, far away bcaus i hav to. as for solo artists, i’v noticd that most womn artists i lik ar oftn on th ground, playing dad, but don up glamorously, thy might as wll b on a satin ottoman. th only diffrnc is a smudg of blood and bruis around th lip and y. my fathr has nothing but contmpt for music vidos, spcially ons that fatur an artist tid to a chair with a bunch of "thugs" around him, who nds up in a psychiatric ward, unshavn, in a dirty rob.my fathr has nvr likd larry bcaus h wars shorts all yar long, and has on of thos jobs that ar hard to grasp for popl who don’t do what h dos. aftr carful scrutiny, followd by an aftrnoon of light stalking, i’v only bn abl to com up with this: h works in a laboratory. larry dos smll antisptic, with a trac of swt n’ low. th first tim w had sx, i thought h had a cold, and was ovrdosing on throat lozngs.it was a sad smll, and as w wr having sx, i vowd to stop sing him.i changd my mind midway through it whn forignr’s "fls lik th first tim," cam on th radio. it did too, and not only bcaus w wr in my honda in a parking lot. th truth is that i hadn’t had sx in a yar, and this occasion didn’t mak up for lost tim. you would think th coincidnc would hav solidifid my dcision to brak up with larry, but a catchy tun that blis a darkr maning is lik a lightning bolt to pay attntion. so i didn’t.at th show, my fathr and i tak turns going to th bar. i watch th crowd, which can only b dscribd as a panorama of d&acut;j&agrav; vu. th music scn is small hr, and popl appar and rappar no mattr whr thy ar. tonight is a ral happning. w find a good spot against th wall, to th right of th stag. it’s important to b on th right, sinc i lost som of my haring in that ar whn i was lvn. my bst frind, gab, trid to drown m at th pool. i kickd him in th stomach so h smashd my had against th concrt. thy vacuatd vryon from th pool, and th blood in blu and whit rmindd m of a rockt pop i had bfor i wnt in. aftrward, vrything soundd as if i was undrwatr.i was nvr mad at gab for what h did. h was trying his hand at biggr things, and would go back to what h knw bst, torturing smallr, dfnslss craturs. i figurd, th worst is ovr, and invitd him to a slpovr. aftr som plading, my mom consntd. sh mad popcorn and ric krispi trats but rfusd any to him. h didn’t complain. out of far, i guss. i was trrifid of my mothr, who divorcd my fathr a yar latr.whn larry’s pissd off, h’ll talk in my bad ar, or mov his lips as if h’s spaking. but i know thr’s no sound coming out. i hav gottn so usd to not bing abl to har, it took m a whil to raliz that somtims i can har lik vryon ls. lik p.j. harvy, who is famous for whispring and going so quit it’s impossibl to undrstand. sh trats hr music as if it’s a scrt sh’s rluctant to shar.my fathr hands m a br bfor th show, and turns his attntion to th plthora of young womn around him. dosn’t h know this maks m uncomfortabl? of cours all th htro boys ar doing th sam, and th girls go by with grim facs and stiff ncks. not sing but sing. th youngst ons laugh too loudly, and sprint down th aisls. th boys fall for this act, willing to s mystry whr thr is non."dal, what’s yours?" my dad shouts ovr th opning act, a punk band from kansas city. th woman is about my ag, with low brasts and tattoos up and down hr arms. sh shaks my fathr’s hand. "laura," i har hr scram."this is my daughtr, pnlop." h puts his arm around m, and squzs. i can b a prop."nic to mt you." hr hand is sticky and cool."that is so swt," sh says and givs m a smil a fiv yar old would find condscnding. i offr to go to th bar. laura ordrs a jack and cok, my fathr anothr br. h maks a big dal of handing m a twnty. whn i gt back, dal givs m a half-smil that's rally a qustion. i pat his arm. ys, i answr. i'll gt lost.p.j. harvy coms out in a whit pants suit. sh's tiny, but has a voic that dfis hr siz. i'm svral rows bhind dal and laura, and watch thm had bang to th music. i want to mov as wll, but am surroundd by a passiv bunch. thy fign thoughtful attntivnss through cockd hads and closd ys. during a ballad i can barly discrn, my fathr lifts his lft arm high and sways, a lightr poisd in his hand. th singular flam hovrs ovr his companion's had, thratning to catch it on fir.looking at him, unabashd as th sol lightr possssor in th ntir plac, i raliz h's happy. whn w first movd to fort collins, w wr sick from th altitud. with th mountains so far wst, w didn't think w wr up so high. ach day prsntd a nw symptom. bloody nos, arach, vrtigo. my ars flt full and hollow, and i couldn't tll what was clos or far away. my dad had dramd of living out wst all his lif, but bgan to think h had mad a mistak. th wst my fathr sought didn't hav suburban sprawl. nvrthlss, h has thrivd bnath its sunny disposition, whr aftrnoons ar warm, vn in wintr.aftr th show, i wait for my dad in front of th thatr. th smll of smok is vrywhr. dal and laura wandr toward m, nw-fangld and affctionat. thy bgin to walk ahad, in th opposit dirction of whr w’r parkd."th van is this way, dad." laura laughs, a littl unasily. sh grabs my fathr’s shouldr. th vins in hr hands ar prominnt. sh's oldr than i thought. on hr arm is a tattoo of th virgin mary, don up lik a cowgirl and surroundd by stars, with a lasso in hr right hand."you go on without m," my dad says. i har on word of this. it is "oust.""w’r going th wrong way." i say. my fathr stops. undr th strtlight, thy both look soft, with pink skin and translucnt hair."you’ll b fin, lop. i’ll s you tomorrow." w’r an hour away from hom, and hav a svn a.m. appointmnt in th morning. h must b thinking th sam thing, bcaus h says, "i’ll catch th bus."if i had known arlir, i wouldn’t hav had so much to drink. "ok," i say. my fathr hums p.j. harvy. i rcogniz th song, "you said somthing," which always maks m miss nw york. i go into a 7-lvn for a coff and bottl of watr, to sobr up. i think of larry waiting at hom, ying th clock whil listning to kris kristoffrson. at this lat hour, it's most likly who's to blss and who's to blam.outsid, i drink my coff in th cold air. i s my fathr and laura cross th strt. thir hands ar stuffd into thir jan pockts, and thir pac is brisk, purposful. vn though h's blocks away and my ars ar ringing, i can har him sing:and i'm doing nothing wrongriding in your carth radio playingw sing up to th ighth floordriving hom with th windows down to kp m awak, th shap of th mountains glow abov th city lights. in th four yars w'v bn hr, w hav yt to visit thm. thy'r as forign to us as a pictur postcard. bautiful, but not to b trustd.