(no subject)

I told R last night that if I lived his life I would be writing about it constantly. And I would; he has seen some strange and scary shit go down, and he's in a weird position -- he's trying to earn the respect of the blues community as a white man and at the same time earn the respect of his family and friends, who don't see "blues musician" as a legitimate career choice. I have to admit that I don't know where R's going with it or how he's going to make a real living at it, but I know he works incredibly hard and gets a lot of shit for his choices.

Hell, if he doesn't write his memoirs, I might. :D

(no subject)

R and girlfriend broke up, R went out, girlfriend came over to get her stuff, girlfriend writing letter to R and weeping, Sam sitting very still and trying not to say too much.

I'm not good at helping upset people, especially upset people my roommate just dumped.

Send alcohol.

(no subject)

She's going to read me the letter.

It's in free verse.

O god.

(no subject)

Considering that without moving from the couch we can text, phone, email, and blog-of-your-choice-comment to each other, how come people miscommunicate so badly so quickly? Honestly.

Here's how it went down. See if you can follow.

( Why I am ultimately to blame for what happened this evening. )