Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying "What I do is me: for that I came."
Monday, October 22, 2012
where's a musician when you need one
I think it's worse when they are kind, when they are friendly, when they "let you down easy". When they offer a real promise of friendship. Or worse yet, when friendship was all they ever wanted. Sometimes a handshake is just a handshake. I think that is why I always dated jerks, jerk musicians, jerk writers, jerk artists; with a jerk you knew what to expect. A jerk would treat you badly, and you would love them more for it. A jerk would offer tiny scrap of affection, just when you were about to walk, and you would fall for it, again and again. And eventually they don't even bother to dump you, they just fade away. With a jerk you could be justifiably angry, you could have a proper snit. You could be injured, and cry about it to your girlfriends over bottles of cheap white wine and jars of chocolate icing that you ate with a spoon. Decent men are dangerous. Decent men, they don't give you that option. When a decent man doesn't want you, you smile, chew on your cheek to keep from crying right away, and pretend your arse off that you are "Just Fine" with this. Later, you see yourself differently, and then head straight back to the nearest motorcycling riding guitar player with a ponytail.