This has been a bit of a homecoming weekend. I had a funeral yesterday and a wedding this weekend and suddenly all of the shadows of my past have spread across my face and are revealing me as who I am. A mature family person. Or at least that is what I am being called.
“Oh look at you. You’re so fucking mature with your family and your kid. Fuck you!”
I guess this was intended to be an insult. It was certainly shouted through the clenched jaw of my once best-friend.
“I guess having a family takes the place of your best friend, huh?”
The other night I went out to a bar. An old dive in my hometown. Many
friends were there. Old friends. People I haven’t seen in years. People
that were once best friends and have been since cut off. People I did
not want to run in
I am not lying. My quote, unquote, old best friend said that to me before grabbing me by the collar.
“You have a kid now, huh? That’s pretty rad. Does he skate?”
It was almost scripted.
And all I had to do was walk through the door.
On the plus side, contrary to any dive bar in Los Angeles, the juke box played good music and a vodka tonic only costs $3.50.