I don't mind drinking cheap beer. When funds get tough for your business and your paycheck is what they choose to squeeze, I don't mind downgrading to Fostums from Murphles's. What's really important to me is to keep the quality of the food I cook with my girlfriend up. I'll swill PBM in a nonironic fashion to keep from buying the miracle genome-spliced mushrooms Slaveway stocks. It's easy for me to sacrifice a bit for the ones I care about, I'm trying to make it second nature. Feels better than splurging on my own indulgences, then trying to cover the ugly things that does to your karma.
But really, tonight I am not writing simply about the amazing evening I will soon be having with the girl of my dreams. No, tonight I am thinking back to (not so) faraway times. Way back when I didn't just have a wildstreak, something I now keep under wraps to show off only on ceremonial occasions. No, back when this streak had me, wrapped around my cerebral cortex like some boredom crazed Anaconda weened on miracle-mushrooms. I had a leather jacket and terrible mutton chops, and I hit the streets with two of my closest mates. In truth, we were all upstanding gentlemen, or at least did our best impressions (except for Nay-Go, who blurred the line closer to authenticity than any of us was ready to admit at the time). Point is, on this night we were prowling the streets of our pointless, directionless home town in a pointless, directionless manner, actually looking for trouble. Not the kind that ends with you missing your wallet, shoes, and mutton chops in the heart of the Nip at four am on a horrid tuesday morning. No, we were looking for the kind of conflict that could be easily solved be our endless wit and charm, by the bevy of beer we were ready to drink, and above all, the sheer strength of our camaraderie.
We all shared a long, loping history that had led us to this night by very much the same means. So much so that our own personal takes on the circumstances showed off not our own unique quirks so much as a mutual trust (not to mention twisted humour) that could not be denied. Even if we wanted to. Lucky that we didn't. K-Billions had a cool, deep rooted understanding of right and wrong and common sense that kept everything from going completely off the cliff, while at the same time could be goaded to legendary feats of rash madness that still get retold. Nay-Go was as pure a conduit of emotion as I have ever seen, so deeply involved with his heart and soul that his uncompromising genuiness was his greatest asset, and usual downfall. And me, I tried to park myself somewhere in between, tilling my artistic impulsiveness while holding up, more often than not, the brain-numbing mask of a "well-adjusted" young man.
Three Planets of various hues, ranging from dark, to light, to all the shades in between; rotating in orbit of the life we all lived in this valley. Never colliding, somehow destined to be the three parts of a whole soul. And as we roamed every dark sidestreet and old haunt in search of the seedy goals we were doomed never to find, we felt complete. We sang songs made up on the spot, gulped Powers whiskey from a silver flask, told tales that grew bolder and more authentic as the night wore on. In truth, the most we found that night in the way of adventure was a couple of close friends who welcomed us in freely, but were ultimately overwhelmed by the singular trip we were cruising on.
Those midnight strolls from a to b were where the true memories were made. And godamnit, this cheap beer foams up too easily, overflows all over my precious handmade deck. But I guess you get what you pay for. So I write this on my porch, in the January "cold" of this California nowhere town that these memories played out in. And in this present, our orbits have drifted apart. I face life here without my two comrades, these two who so bravely accompanied me into a night not unlike tonight in search of not a destination, but a solid adventure along the way to wherever we ended up.
And I do not fear facing this future. I know I share it with a woman who is everything I could ask for and more. Enough like me to understand my common shortcomings, but unique and wonderful enough to keep me enamored to infinity. A true keeper, and a partner in a brave new future. Together. I do not despair.
When that feeling hits me to dive into the night with nothing but two of your best friends, the finest liquor, and no direction beyond where your like minds will take you, I can't help myself. I miss them both, off on their own strange and wonderful orbits elsewhere. I cannot, and will not, cry into my two-dollar beer in self pity. Nor drift into the pointless pursuits of nostalgia. I know that what I have gained from these two is not as simple as memories and reminiscence. It is the future we are all three building now. The future I understand that much more clearly know that I have had the privilege to know them both. And the nights we will someday face together again.
I only wish I had a better beer to raise.
-Wolfberry Out.
But really, tonight I am not writing simply about the amazing evening I will soon be having with the girl of my dreams. No, tonight I am thinking back to (not so) faraway times. Way back when I didn't just have a wildstreak, something I now keep under wraps to show off only on ceremonial occasions. No, back when this streak had me, wrapped around my cerebral cortex like some boredom crazed Anaconda weened on miracle-mushrooms. I had a leather jacket and terrible mutton chops, and I hit the streets with two of my closest mates. In truth, we were all upstanding gentlemen, or at least did our best impressions (except for Nay-Go, who blurred the line closer to authenticity than any of us was ready to admit at the time). Point is, on this night we were prowling the streets of our pointless, directionless home town in a pointless, directionless manner, actually looking for trouble. Not the kind that ends with you missing your wallet, shoes, and mutton chops in the heart of the Nip at four am on a horrid tuesday morning. No, we were looking for the kind of conflict that could be easily solved be our endless wit and charm, by the bevy of beer we were ready to drink, and above all, the sheer strength of our camaraderie.
We all shared a long, loping history that had led us to this night by very much the same means. So much so that our own personal takes on the circumstances showed off not our own unique quirks so much as a mutual trust (not to mention twisted humour) that could not be denied. Even if we wanted to. Lucky that we didn't. K-Billions had a cool, deep rooted understanding of right and wrong and common sense that kept everything from going completely off the cliff, while at the same time could be goaded to legendary feats of rash madness that still get retold. Nay-Go was as pure a conduit of emotion as I have ever seen, so deeply involved with his heart and soul that his uncompromising genuiness was his greatest asset, and usual downfall. And me, I tried to park myself somewhere in between, tilling my artistic impulsiveness while holding up, more often than not, the brain-numbing mask of a "well-adjusted" young man.
Three Planets of various hues, ranging from dark, to light, to all the shades in between; rotating in orbit of the life we all lived in this valley. Never colliding, somehow destined to be the three parts of a whole soul. And as we roamed every dark sidestreet and old haunt in search of the seedy goals we were doomed never to find, we felt complete. We sang songs made up on the spot, gulped Powers whiskey from a silver flask, told tales that grew bolder and more authentic as the night wore on. In truth, the most we found that night in the way of adventure was a couple of close friends who welcomed us in freely, but were ultimately overwhelmed by the singular trip we were cruising on.
Those midnight strolls from a to b were where the true memories were made. And godamnit, this cheap beer foams up too easily, overflows all over my precious handmade deck. But I guess you get what you pay for. So I write this on my porch, in the January "cold" of this California nowhere town that these memories played out in. And in this present, our orbits have drifted apart. I face life here without my two comrades, these two who so bravely accompanied me into a night not unlike tonight in search of not a destination, but a solid adventure along the way to wherever we ended up.
And I do not fear facing this future. I know I share it with a woman who is everything I could ask for and more. Enough like me to understand my common shortcomings, but unique and wonderful enough to keep me enamored to infinity. A true keeper, and a partner in a brave new future. Together. I do not despair.
When that feeling hits me to dive into the night with nothing but two of your best friends, the finest liquor, and no direction beyond where your like minds will take you, I can't help myself. I miss them both, off on their own strange and wonderful orbits elsewhere. I cannot, and will not, cry into my two-dollar beer in self pity. Nor drift into the pointless pursuits of nostalgia. I know that what I have gained from these two is not as simple as memories and reminiscence. It is the future we are all three building now. The future I understand that much more clearly know that I have had the privilege to know them both. And the nights we will someday face together again.
I only wish I had a better beer to raise.
-Wolfberry Out.
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