Look, I pretty much figure I did my time being patient with this old friend of mine. And I’m not the only one. It used to be fun, playing guitars and coming up with crazy lyrics to pop songs that everybody knows those aren’t really the words, but they are more fun than the real words. It used to be fun playing jokes on each other. We didn’t fight over the women that one of us wanted but the other one nailed. That happened a lot, back and forth.
It’s just that over time, things got too dramatic. He dug himself into a situation, and then whined because I didn’t do the same thing. He coveted all manner of thing that I had, and complained because I had it. The guitars fell idle because we could never find time to play. Then he started accusing me of all kinds of stuff that wasn’t true, and turned into a real high-maintenance kind of person. But I was patient.
Well, this is for my friend. He’s in a federal penitentiary now. I can’t tell you what he did but he won’t be back for a long, long time. And I suppose this is also for the troops, if there are any among the readers.
As I recall, back when we were playing guitars, this is what some of those girls looked like. You’d think if you were blessed like this at any time in your life, you’d remember it.
So after all that, I guess, we’re supposed to learn something from it. But we’re also supposed to walk away from it. So like a lot of people who have been far less patient than myself, you know, all I can say is whatever you do, don’t get caught doing what he did. There may be rust on my strings but at least I can go get a new set if I want. All he can do is shoot rubber bands at the ceiling and wait for chow.
And let’s be real. When he gets out, nobody’s going to want to see him after what he did. Or more likely, no one will still be alive who remembers how he used to be. I mean I just can’t say I have that much patience.