it was good while it lasted.

tomorrow evening, i will be saying a bittersweet goodbye to someone dear to my heart. we've come a long way together, and life just won't be the same after we part, but i have to move on. i just don't want to make this any harder than it has to be. a nice clean break. i feel as though bringing my wife will only complicate matters, and so i leaver her behind to say goodbye in cleveland ("the new miami"). the journey will be a right of passage. every man must grow, and in doing so, leave certain relationships in the past.

here's how i picture the conversation:

me: hey baby
her: hey you
me: listen... we can't keep doing this any more
her: what do you mean?
me: this. all this. it's just not working for me.
her: it's because i'm old now, isn't it? you want something young and pretty don't you? you're just getting bored with me. it's because i'm fat.
me: no baby it's not like that. you're amazing. you're just not for me any more. i'm a different person. i can't keep going like this. it's too much.
her: you have been a bit lackluster lately. i can't say i've been impressed by your performance as of late. a tad contrived.
me: i know. and i'm sorry. remember when we first started together? we were so young. so naive. you were so edgy and hip. my soul cried out for you and you answered the call. we were two lonely strangers and we complimented each other perfectly.
her: you were so cute that first time... in your brown sketchers. you were so awkward.
me: and you were just so dark and mysterious. and you smelled like cigarettes and sweaty gym socks.
her: that was a great night. i remember when you got kicked in the face. the look of shock and embarassment was priceless.
me: my first time. so strange. so wonderful.
her: well, we'll always have the parking lot of the knights of columbus building.
me: yeah... i'll never forget you. keep on... keep on truckin'.
her: shhhhh... just go...

...and i saunter into the sunset. i'll miss our little rendezvous. the sweat. the excitement. the mystery. the blood.





so, with this last punk show, i say goodbye to an entire genre. gone are my moshing days, the colored hair, the chains, the chuck taylors. it's not punk rock, it's me... it's my thing. the genre is going places that i can't go.

and i simply can't fit into the pants any more:





no sir. this is where i draw the line.


rock it out to:
anything by chuck ragan

favorite quote from the yl winter weekend:
me: "you gotta get back on the horse man."
kid: "no dude... i'm chris reevesing it."