I guess Grandma found you pretty recently. We(you can guess who) were wondering what we should drink to toast to you. It seemed like something you would appreciate, or at least the most family friendly way. I try to not speculate on the implications of a nickname like ‘Fast Eddie.’ I’ll just go with loud music and good drinks.
I always felt like I wouldn’t have properly measured up. The storyteller in me had always envisioned some smoke filled bar, you’re in the corner booth with a number of friends, and everyone is laughing at one of your many stories of variable veracity. I have the barman bring you a drink. We sit, talk, and you slowly realize who I am. You’d order us two Scotchs. Even if this is some third world shithole; we’re having Scotch or the local counterfeit.
We’d sip our questionable Scotch or potentially blinding Scotch impostor. I would tell you what it’s like back home. You’d tell me some enthralling odyssey that totally justified why you preferred localities with too many fucking vowels. We’d hug and cry. I would finally understand. You’d finally feel a pang of conscience, but coupled with the hope that you could make right all those wrongs.
But that’s not life and that’s not what happened. It’s been a full year since you… went away. I don’t think that I was ever under the illusion that I would find closure with you. I just really wish that I had.
P.S. I am still the only member of my graduating class that can readily locate Kosovo on any kind of cartograph.
This is one of the few traditional Irish pieces that isn’t grossly depressing. You’re welcome.
This might be the greatest achievement of string music ever
Most people don’t really have a theme song. They like to adopt one. They like to play something to pump themselves up for some occasion, but it’s usually a contrivance.
I have a actual theme song. No, really. Not so long ago, a delivery room was awash with an old Willie Nelson song. It’s the tale of two inseparable souls. One is dedicated and loyal. The other is a survivor; practical and heartbroken. It is a song of desperation, and loss. Such is life; is it not?
Now that is some real theme music.
I guess the sweet life wasn’t everything that you thought it would be. You were on the outside and stared in to that kind of life. Now that you’ve transcended that barrier; you’re finding that things aren’t so easy. You’re working harder now than you ever have in your whole life. You’re scrambling, searching for a handhold, and generally directionless. Also, you’re not coping well with your present circumstance. That’s our difference. Nothing matters, because I will survive. Even in my most wretched moments, I have always continued. I have clung to my spite and disdain.
For a time, you flourished and enjoyed what life had to offer to you. Now, you have something to lose. I can and will take everything from you. Your friends won’t help you. She will fly right back to me. When all is said and done, you will be a leper. Maybe you’ll be in my place one day; hoping and planning on revenge. It won’t work. You don’t have the spine for it. You’ll probably just get high and kill yourself. I don’t need to be scared of you, because you don’t have the mettle to make this kind of comeback.