Twitch and Tweak
We first met in a prison for the rich.
We were the only ones that got out alive. They forced us to form a death grip on the weak and fend only for ourselves, for that was their culture. Be all you can be by shoving everyone else to the bottom. Now obey the ones who come into our room at night and beat us with lacrosse sticks. Obey the ones that make you dig holes and run in circles until you cry. Obey the ones that pushed that one girl to drink laundry detergent and hitchhike two states just to be sent back by her own grandma.
Beat up that fat kid. Sit on the bleachers. Shut the fuck up.
So we faked it.
And then, there was life. Just regular life. A magnifying glass to spark a bowl in the yard and a one hundred thousand dollar car patrolling the block. A ride in a convertible with a banana flavored joint and house party where we listened to girl music then drove to the police station to just to smoke a joint. Ahhhh to be a kid again.
So then after that we both got drafted into the state of war that we had both been more or less unaware of. I became stuck in a box and he became stuck in a traveling band of gypsies. The collective of the phish. He is now one of the generals of the Army of the Art east coast division.
He taught me, that sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do, is cut the track for only a split second, using only a speck of complete silence, to make what you were saying, just that much more important.