Dear George,
Man there are soooo many things I want to write here, but being that you won the game today, I will fulfill my promise and write yours today. First of all you may or may not know you saved my life. Back in the caffiend days, I was in fucking rough shape. I was in GR, knew fucking no body, broke and so depressed that for the only time in my life painting the ceiling was an option that was considered on a daily basis. You for what ever reason took pity on me and made me your buddy.
While in many ways (especially nowadays) you probably see your kindness as a vice instead of a virtue, I honestly can’t think of a way for thanking you. What do you get for a man who has everything as the saying goes (though I could really work hard at getting you the entire female cast of suckerpunch as a start).
There were so many random adventures we had working in the gears of the Timothy Empire its hard to focus on any in particular. There was acid, whippets, GHB. There were 4 am trips to Meijer to buy the then new Nintendo 64 and a shit ton of games. There was the time you melted down on that First of America guy and made me proud to be an American. You are also, believe it or not, mostly responsible for the career I now enjoy. Letting me mess around on your computer with all those adobe programs and our semi-daily desktop wallpaper design competition/flyers for liquid. You introduced me to the interwebs, pron and all kinds of other forms of debauchery. I mean jesus man we were fucking animals, but it was pretty goddamn awesome if you ask me. While I know for a fact I am not the best of friends in the world I hope at somepoint I thanked you for all you did for me, and in general just being a great friend.
I have gotten a lot of mileage out of stories of you and I over the years. The cat in the cooler (also penis dan’s cat trying to kill himself by jumping off the balcony), the time we did a 360 in the barbie mobile. Having gallons of drugs in the fridge (upon which again penis dan left those cat corpses he ordered on top of to rot). Eyeliner, pearls, boots and leather. Your fireman’s coat, the dollar drawer, the fucking Baptists. Those minty things we used to walk around with dangling from our noses. I really really would like to have drinks with you next time I am in Chitown, if you would be so kind as to shoot me those digits. I am probably boring as all fuck now, but well there is always the “remember when” game for old times sake. Besides there is so much that I would like to talk to you about that is just not fit for public consumption (lest all the kiddies that read this faint). All that being said you were, and as far as I can tell, are still pretty awesome. Now I need to head off to the bar and probably tell some stories about you (remember the cats shit box…jesus), but I will look for your reply.
Today was a great day, but tomorrow our FBfriendship will end,
Curt
No comments:
Post a Comment