You know when I was a boy,
folks used to say to me
"Slow down Dewey, don't walk so hard"
And I used to tell them
Life's a race, and I'm in it to win it
And I'll walk as damn hard as I please
I don't know about you guys, but Brad Lidge nearly gave me a heart attack Sunday night; after Reyes got on base, I could almost see the proverbial broom coming down on us for the series sweep, like we just got zapped by a malfunctioning shrinking ray after a freak backyard baseball accident and our nutty inventor dad Walter Szalinski was unknowingly trying to dispose of us in the dustbin. Thanks to prolific fielding by Bruntlett and competent fielding by our first baseman, we scraped our way to a 2-4 record against the Mets, who we don't see again until July (the most patriotic of months). I guess maybe thats not too much to be excited about, but at least we avoided the sweep and we won't have to pitch to David Wright again until after the true dog days of summer are upon us.
After the loss on Friday night, Richards, Rob and I took a little trip up Broad St from Pattison to have a few beers, and after jamming out to 'Time To Pretend' by MGMT and becoming fully pumped to drink Heinekens and Jagerbombs all night (also check out 'Love always Remains'), we arrived at the new Marbar at 10th and Walnut, a place that subsequently was turned upside down by our raucous behavior and boozy natures...but while most of the 2-1-5 squad was in attendance, including but not limited to BdOd and BC, one member was conspicuously absent. In fact, no one has seen or heard from him since March 12th, when he posted the inappropriately named and unfortunate blog article "Better than the Best Sex with Oshun, the Afrocarribean Goddess of Sex."
I'm talking of course about Perfect Friend. You know, many people approached me after he posted that rambling collection of apparently nonsensical, 'stream-of-consciousness' writings, supremely concerned for his well-being. Invariably the words 'relapse' and 'rehab' were used over and over to discuss his condition, but the truth is no one knew what his situation was; by that time he had already severed all social ties and stopped showing up to work at the museum and the library. Indications are that his final blog entry was less of a 'canary in in the mineshaft' situation as it was perhaps his last stab at participating in reality, albeit completely unsuccessfully.
So where is he? I wish I knew. Some suggestions are as follows; that he and Charles Patrick are on a Crocodile Dundee-style "Walkabout" in the New Mexico badlands, subsisting purely on peyote, poisonous berries, and puddle water, all the while attempting to create abstract art and writing children's books; he's in Brazil, living a Col. Kurtz type lifestyle as warrior/poet/deity in charge of a primitive tribe of Incans deep in the rainforest; he got into law school and moved away to go to law school; him and Dr. Bonnie went into business together catering weddings, confirmations, and track banquets at Dugan's on the Blvd.
Of course, until we hear from Perfect Friend directly, its all pure speculation. Matt Steuer literally disappeared one day, and then the outgoing message on his cell-phone was this young girl's barely audible voice, and we never heard from him again. Bizarre. Of course, maybe our Perfect Friend has simply taken some time off to walk bold and hard down life's rocky road...yes, something tells me one day Perfect Friend will be back, and he will better than ever.