Best Friends, Dane, David, memories

On The Roof Again

Sometimes I feel like annoying Svea… and this post may be slightly designed for that purpose 😉 Mostly because my current re-obsession is Eve 6 and she disagrees with my taste in this particular area. (Max Collins… Mmmmm…) Anyway, I recently ordered the newest Eve 6 album (Speak in Code, 2012) so I went back to my teenager hood and started re-listening to all the old stuff as well… and I wondered why I ever stopped listening to them in the first place. I suppose I got distracted at some point by other bands. I do that sometimes and then revisit old CDs every couple of years… but I digress.

*

Eve 6, in the car on a sunny day with a cigarette = perfection. (Svea thinks it sounds too high school-y nowadays and she, erm, disagrees that Max Collins is or ever was hot. I mean… I think she needs stronger prescriptions for her contacts. Jussayin’.)

maxcollins

Anyway, I was rocking out to “On the Roof Again” in the car again today and I got to thinking about ‘back in the day’ when I did a lot more partying. Haven’t we all had at least one friend that pulled similar shit during parties?

******

“Shit went bad he’s on the roof again she flipped, he flipped the bird
And then he went to the roof where his threats rang loud and clear
‘Gonna jump, gonna jump, gonna die this year’

…hey man try to quit your crying
I know she broke your heart but try to calm, try to calm down.”

******

I’ve told you a little about one incident before. Beer in hand. Middle of the front lawn at something like 2 AM. Been drinking, but standing tall and arrogant, gazing at the stars.

*

“Why?!” David shouts into the night air.

*

“God, why me?!” Or some other stereotypical question one asks of God comes out of his mouth. “Why the fuck do I always have to deal with this shit?! Why is every fucking woman I want taken?! Why is it always me that fucks up?!”

*

He takes a pause, looking at the sky expectantly. Suddenly he shouts again, in response to an apparent answer. He’s pointing his finger at the sky as if he’s jabbing at another man’s chest, daring him to engage. “NO! No! Not a fucking good enough reason!” He gestures at me and says something about me not even being his type, so why did he get entangled with me in the first place? He knew I was married, yet he made the wrong fucking choice again, he said. (Wow, that’d make a girl feel good about herself, hey?)

*

 Another pause as he looks down for a moment and throws his now empty Pabst Blue can to the ground.
*
“What? No…” He looks back at the night sky. He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “No… I’ve atoned for that… I haven’t done drugs in years…”
*
Silence again as he nods as if he’s listening to someone. In this several minute conversation he goes from cocky to despaired to argumentative to calm acceptance.
*
I’ve been drinking a bit myself, but still clear headed enough to think “What the fuck is wrong with him?”
*
Of course this particular night was scarier than most of these types of instances I’ve seen with friends while partying. Mostly because of the other circumstances surrounding this time and the shit he put me directly through that night… but haven’t we all had that one friend? At least one in our lives?
*
I think on this particular evening and I know I shouldn’t feel like I miss my old partying days. But I listen to Eve 6, in the sun… cigarette in hand and you know… I sometimes miss the shenanigans. I miss the craziness… I just don’t miss the crazy being directed at me. I miss Dane with his cigar hanging out of his mouth while he holds a beer in one hand and tongs in the other as he tends the BBQ.
*
I miss the boys being thoroughly …male. I miss talking shit with them and I miss joking about our week’s events or just sitting back on the couch watching the boys be boys. I miss the attention they, especially Dane, paid to my drink. I was the civilian lady and deserved that much at least – to always have a freshened glass.
*
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5 thoughts on “On The Roof Again”

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