A letter to someone that I used to be close to

*For the most part, Shithead is the affectionate nickname that I have for my brother. This is not about him.

Dear Shithead,

I still remember when we were close. Hell, you were one of my best friends. I think about all of the times that we just rode around in my old car or your old truck doing absolutely nothing. Do you remember when you, the long hairs, and me packed into that truck to put out flyers promoting our shows? I do. We drove all over Etowah County putting up flyers where ever they would let us, and a few places that they wouldn't. Those were good times. Or what about when one of the Long hairs threw bottle rockets at a bunch of rednecks in Rainbow City and they all thought I did it and the Long hair never owned up to it? I remember that too. That was a fun couple of days, even though some people wanted to beat me retarded for something that I didn't actually do. Do you remember when you shot your mouth off and pissed off every other person in every other band in Gadsden way more that I thought I ever could and I still stood up for you?

But I also still remember when I began to get fed up with you. The "Hurricane Katrina Benefit" that we did at Wallace Hall, the show we did at the old Performing Arts to get the money to play some shitty battle of the bands that I objected to. You remember> It was like $75 to sign up and it was only me and Long hair that had to shell out the rest of what was needed. The money that we made from that show was someone how just your contribution. What about our last show when you decided that it would be better to go rock climbing or canoeing or whatever douchey thing you've gotten into. What about after our last show when you started that other band and suggested writing new lyrics to the songs that I had written, assuming th at I wouldn't notice? Or what about after the other Long hair moved away and you almost missed the show to go to some American Idol shit? Or the Habitat for Humanity "benefit" that we played in Montevallo? I'm cool with helping people, but that thing was a joke. They didn't even charge a cover or take up a donation. How about when I let you borrow my cymbals, cymbals that weren't even cheap. You gave the ride and crash cymbal back, but I never saw my $200 hi-hats ever again. Where are they?

The thing that really did it was a few weeks back when I called you asking if you wanted to hang out and you didn't even know who you were talking to on the phone. That didn't just piss me off. That broke my heart. I was genuinely disappointed and saddened.

Fuck you. I'm done. I'm not going to try to be a friend anymore. Fuck it. If you don't value what was once a great friendship, then why the fuck should I?

Drew

On another, not so bitter note, I'm really fucking stoked to be going home tomorrow. I've been anxious all week for Friday. I want to see my mom and dad and brothers (this includes my brother-in-law) and sister. I want to go to First Friday for the first time since July or August. I want to sit at Antonelli's and drink a couple of pitchers. I want to go to Jefferson's and eat some lemon pepper wings. I want to watch the Alabama game with my dad and hope that they beat LSU. I need to get out of Tuscaloosa and this is the perfect weekend to do so.

The video below, I'm going to see this guy in at Bottletree in Birmingham in a couple of weeks with Chuck Ragan, John Snodgrass (Armchair Martian, Drag the River), Chad Price(ALL, Drag the River), Jim Ward (At the Drive-In, Sparta), and Zydepunks. Revival Tour 2009. I'm disappointed that Tim Barry or Joey Cape won't be there, but oh well. Frank Turner is a badass.