One has friends who are funny, sweet, kind, gentle, decent. Who are hot or handsome or pretty. Who have been thought of as more than friends or too much like family.

So what do you do with one of those in-betweeners, who is your friend and whom you think is hot, but who does something so horribly, horribly wrong that you don’t know what to do with yourself?

I speak of my friend Buck, who after reading my entry about Gilbert O’Sullivan and Terry Jacks, decided to add even more saccharine to the mix by offering up some lines to a song as an in-kind gesture:

I find the days hard to take now.
Empty rooms, with much too much space now…

It took me embarrassingly little time to suss it out. The artist came first, oddly. And then the name of the song. And then the true nature of the appropriateness of the song.

I’ve been singing the damned song in my head since I got his email last night at 10:32pm. Even more embarrassingly, I remembered all the words to the song. I guess they write these heart-wrenching ballads for a reason.

I kid the Buck. Even though what I’ve told you is all true. When I get back to the house I’m going to have to find it in my music collection and play it over and over again. (Yes, I own the song and have for a while—fuck you, too and shut up 🙂

Actually, everything in the last few days has reminded me of one song or another. Not necessarily sad songs, but sometimes the happier ones are the ones that end up being the most poignant as they play contrapunto to beat of your steps and your heart.

Still. Buck will pay.

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