Friday, November 14, 2008

...on irish blessings

"may the road rise up to meet you

and may the wind be at your back

and may you be in heaven a half hour

before the devil knows you're dead"

it's what the bastard said to grandpa at his funeral.

it's what he's come to say instead of saying goodbye.


force of habit.

you see, left hand rob got let go while I was in arizona and his last day was today. it's like losing a steady right... er... left hand.

and the bastard got spared and that is it's own giri to bear.

because you see, landing on your feet also has it's price.

and i'm not sure if it was worth it yet.

—the bastard

1 comment:

Rob S. said...

Thanks, man.

I'm gonna really fucking miss working with you.

We had a good run.

And good, good luck with all the new.

If it helps, there's no resentment from this quarter. None at all. You knew that, I'm sure, but I figure it's best to say out loud.