Joey's Journal

So it goes like this.

One day you wake up and you're betting horses, drinking, and laughing, and remembering a lot of the reasons you thought you had it so good.

Then the next, a two year old is wiping banana covered hands on your shirt and garbling the Barney theme.

And I got it good. I got it better than good, with a kid who loves me and I get to be a father to. A great family. Friends.

But then comes the part where the house is quiet and the kid isn't around and I'm alone. And I barely have time to think in those terms. Parenting is full-time, harding fucking work, and it spins my head more than just a little. But I do get the moments where I look around and yeah. I'm alone. I know it's nothing that a phone call won't handle. Get myself out. And I can always surround myself with people who want to be my friend.

But I haven't. It's been months and I haven't done much of anything. It's my problem, and for the first time in a long time, since this ride really took off, I feel it. Weakness. Regret. I closed off and became unforgiving. And I gave stuff up.

Chris and I shared some space on the flight home from Kentucky. It was pretty loose and we laughed, and it was nice to just be with him for a bit. Of course, we didn't discuss anything, but really. There's nothing left to discuss. Avoiding isn't the same as moving on. And that's what we've done. What we have to do. We're friends because it can't be any other way. Sort of like me and C. It just can't be different. But I also looked at him and thought about my meeting with Ron, and I can see what he's doing. And honestly, I wanted to grab him and shake him and yell, 'dumbfuck, get the hell on with it, already'. Life's too short, and one day you wake up and you're Joey Fatone, lone loser.

Chris, man. Here's the thing. Shit or get off the pot.

I will if you will.

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