So I am playing guitar for Jack's metal project. He said the butt Pirates, and I said, "let's just name it the Back-Door Bandits and come on stage wearing chaps." (note: not direct quote) So we don't have a name and we need a rhythm/lead guitarist. It'll be rad. I've been wanting to play in a real high school battle of the bands for quite sometime, ever since the first show. And no, most of you aren't invited, it's not like I'd play guitar for you anyways.
Big parties and new people, dire consequences and drug deals gone wrong, trips to the store and the potential that I have developed tetanus, the past week has been crazy. I've still got several phone calls to make, but something feels good about putting them off, as if I can live under the pretense that I never actually made it back all the way.
There is a case and a half of cheap beer under my bed, (Pabst Blue Ribbon, need you ask,) just sitting, waiting for an appropriate moment, one that no doubt has already taken flight.
We used to drink in my room, all the time. That was fun, depraved and twisted (like lou reed's croak), but it was actually all right, and nothing could really hold us back, but we lost a few along the way. I like to think of all of it as if we were a platoon, you know, raiding the bush down in the Ia drang Valley, for a couple years. We took a few hits and lost some kids along the way, but it's all right as long as you're not the one goin home in a body bag, right? You really learn who thinks you're still alive as time passes by. But really, who's actually been in my room in the past 6 months?
I saw Evan's mom today. I actually just remembered that, at Value Village. She didn't notice me, or acknowledge my existance if she did see me, she was on a cell phone, and she had on pants that my mom would totally wear, so I was like, "It's my mom, she'll see I'm not in school, this will suck a whole lot" but part of me didn't really care at all, I was content smoking Singles and wearing sunglasses and riding around in a turquoise truck, but it turned out to be Joanne instead. I hope I spelled that right. Band Cup! What a crazy world.
So I've got a friend who wants to join the Army but can't on account of his mental health history, I've got a friend who plays rock n roll and wants to be a fisherman, I've got a friend who is a fisherman, but wants to be a rock star, I've got a friend who wants to buy a car, and I've got a friend who wants to sell a car, I've got a friend who wants to not feel, I've got a friend who doesn't know how to feel but he would if he could, I have a friend who got fucked over by his habit, but he's making the best of it, and I've got stones to sell and fat to chew, essays to write, things to publish.