The Dink Network

word.

joshkozxiii@comcast.net
Private Message
aSongCalledHope

i met duane in jr high art class. he sat next to me, and across from a special ed kid. me and duane were the twisted kids with the demented art projects. i remember once the school counselor walked in and saw a mask duane was working on, and duane said that the guys burger exploded (explaining the profuse redness all over the facial region) then there was the time duane got suspended for his comic book being about a guy robbing crates of beer from a grocery store, and calling people "funkin horrors."

over the school year, me and duane became friends, mainly due to the fact that every other person in the class held nothing but contempt for the two of us. duane taught me a lot. he taught me to be myself, and not to fear people. he taught me how to laugh at life. how to have fun from nothing. how to feel accepted for who i was and not care about anyone else.

duane started playing guitar the summer before i met him, around the same time i started playing bass. 6 months into the school year, duane was already ripping the metallica solos for the talent festival, in fact, duane had trouble playing them slow enough. after doing that, me and duane started jamming out regularly. we would hang out and just do stupid things. for once in my life, i went outside of my own house and went out into the world. i didnt worry what people thought about it, it only made it that much more fun.

duane was the most talented guitar player i have ever heard. and not just in person, or someone i personally know... i mean, duane was the best guitar player i have ever heard, ever, anywhere, in existence.

duane is dead now. 18 years old. he drove his car into his living room, and the gas tank exploded. the newspaper said he may have been drinking.

ill never forget the feeling that came over me when i looked into that big pile of dirt over duane's grave. he was my friend, sometimes... my only friend.