What now, universe?
No job, no prospects, no book sales.
No love life.
And then you took one of my cats. Still haven’t forgiven you that.
I try, hard, not to complain, not to bitch and moan and be that guy.
Now you take my guitar from me?
I’ve had a longer relationship with that guitar than I’ve had with most people, sad as that sounds. Its been with me for cross-country moves, survived airplanes and baggage claim and my shitty fingering of a B7. High altitude, low altitude and cheap-ass strings. Kids pounding on it, cats knocking it over, barbecues and family gatherings, and it weathered it all. Until now. Until this.
What more do you want from me, universe? I’m almost afraid to ask. What lesson am I to learn from all of this?
How many ‘other’ shoes do you intend to drop on my sorry ass?
Fucking hell, universe.
