Ave Atque Vale - [People never get the flowers while they can still smell them.]

Hey, Dunbar.

Well, we never really established who was going to be 'Santiago' and who was going to be 'Dunbar' did we?
sigh.
This blows.
I don't know why whatever happened happened, but I do know anyone who's ever met you, or hung out with you is a little upset right now.

You were one of the best of us, I'm sitting here- recalling all the crude things we used to laugh at... and then the miscellaneous things like asking Tri-Sarah-Tops to remove her top so that she may wrestle with us.


Sometimes, I felt like you got me. Like we got each other. The core 'we' that we had a hard time showing folk. All those nights you crashed under whatever roof I was staying under, looking up at the ceiling, pondering... discussing the little idiosyncrasies that make us all tick.

I never would've guessed the day I strolled into Madhatter's to hang with Bri, that I'd be meeting one of my future closest boys. I'm still not 100% on how I got the blame for "hooking you two up." Even to this day, despite your constant praise of my straight from the hip advice, I simply thought I was doing her the favor.

Man.

I don't think we had a dull moment. I mean, other than our sporadic attempts at growing up...    

What am I supposed to say?
Remember the dog chase? Remember the police precinct? Remember the gas station bathroom key? Remember meeting Brandon Knight MLB pitcher for the Mets and he gave us front row seats to the next game?
I remember them all. Now, more than ever.

I never got around to meeting your family, and now I never will. I feel bad for never taking the opportunities you gave. Geez, I wonder how they are taking this. 

I find myself oddly in the mood to fix sausages. Of course, because I'm thinking about us- and it's four in the morning. What better time to fry up meat shirtless?

Later today, I may dig out my old CDs- listen to some of The Prodigy, or Crystal Method hell, I may have to throw in some 2 Live Crew and other various Miami bass mixes. Of course, the listening will be accompanied with a vodka/soda. 

...yeah.

Bri's a wreck. I feel bad for ever getting you in trouble with her. 

I wish I had at least told you I loved ya. Even once. As guys we aren't really big on this act- yet it's easy for us to fall asleep together in adjacent swivel chairs in your office. Hey. It was a rough afternoon. 

Mulatto Raggedy Ann.

Man. I thought I left the military because I was sick of seeing my boys leave me. ...all your troubles have been washed away. Yet, I'd take them all off of your shoulders just to take one more ride with you. 

Ugh. I hope one day, I'll be able to understand. One day I'll be able to fully accept the truth behind why you had to go. However, today is not that day. If anything- I wish today was the day you called me at ten AM like always and demand that I meet you somewhere for tomfoolery and debauchery. 

Maybe...

If I close my eyes really tight, and count to three- I'd open them to a text from you calling me a 'silly little bitch' and that I must meet you Saturday for something silly you just discovered on the 'internets'

Nah. 

Facebook is already blowing up. You've gone on.

...and I'm... just writing a blog. 

Love You, son. 

My key is always gonna be in the bushes for you. 

-Sean. (your boy, Stank Sinatra-which you probably have me still in your phone.)

P.S.

Tri-Sarah-tops said she's e-mail you a picture of her butchered hair. She's still horny and needs your matchmaking expertise. Hook it up for us. ...and I promise I'll work harder at not taking myself so seriously.





"That is my principal objection to life, I think: It's too easy, when alive, to make perfectly horrible mistakes." -Kurt Vonnegut