The last time I saw you, we were burying a mutual friend by virtue of metaphor. You had apparently walked out of a closing shoppe with a borrowed jacket so hopped up on pain pills from a previous night's motorcycle accident that you didn't notice until later. I was torn between being elated to see you and disappointed in your theft, no matter how unintentional.
You were the one who feared for my sanity, what with my anti-social tendencies. You tried to change me outwardly time and again. I fought back. A thousand tiny victories. A thousand tiny defeats. There were things I did just to shut you up. I wear marks of your passing upon my flesh, making no effort to hide them.
As time drifts by, I question whether our orbits will transect ever again. I'd like to think we've both made our efforts. It is said the road goes both ways.
The band played one of those songs that gets me to think of you. You know the one; you'd see to it we had tequila at the time. Hearing it, the memories come back. I wonder how you are. If you're even still alive. I miss you. When the band played the song, I held up my bottle and smiled ever so bittersweetly, thinking of you.
"And if your bottle's empty
then help yourself to mine,
Thank you for your time
and here's to life..."
..."Heads I tell the truth and tails I lie..."
ReplyDeleteLove hearing a good song first thing in the morning, though this one will be running around in my head all day, I just know it.
Last week, my closest friend and I spent a long phone call wondering about certain people who'd shared a road with us for a time.
Do people ever wonder where we are?
It is a great song. Always brings a smile to my face.
DeleteThat is a question, which baffels me...
I've had a few friends call me up out of the blue, having gotten my number from so-and-so's cousin's best friend, and I'm usually surprised to learn they were thinking about me for years (they claim).
ReplyDeleteAnd then I have friends I haven't seen for years, but it seems like it was just yesterday, and we start up again right where we left off.
Both kinds are pretty great.
Wonderful post, Robbie. Do you think any old friends will ever think to Google you and recognize themselves in your blog post?
Someone randomly getting hold of me from the past activates every defensive/misanthropic tendency I've got...how did you fucking find me?
DeleteThis particular friend, Lee, is/was possessed of the gypsy mojo, and we'd not see one another for forever and a day sometimes, but pick up where we left off. The last time we reconnected, he swore up and down to whichever deity he was interested in at the time he'd not fuck off on me again. Mei fei tsu and so it goes. Because of him I've never had to pay for ink and Ive got at least a thousand's worth on me.
The Google inquiry is something I fear to contemplate...
Ah, that Google fellow has not befriended me....in fact, the last ex from college wound up sending one of those "the worst thing I ever did was let you go..." letters which just rots.
ReplyDeleteI even sign my paintings with only my first name. lol
I wish I had an ink-wielding pal, I've got skin to barter...
I use my first and middle name in my dealings across this spider's web of cyber, if that. There are those I have put distance between for reason, it would be awkward-to say the least-if we were to encounter one another again.
DeleteBeing friends with a tattoo artist can have its advantages. Although, no matter how close you get, never mention having relations with one their parents whilst they're tattooing you, no matter how much of pigfucker they're being. Trust me.