“Pour me another shot of whiskey, this one’s for the south”
Edit: I don’t think i like this post, but there is something to it. I haven’t the time or inclination to re-read and edit it now, so i’m just leaving the intro, which i do like, and hiding the rest away to be dealt with at a later time.
This is my love letter to the South. It may not sound quite like a love letter, but i have learned things about love recently. Enumerating someone’s lovely traits is not really a love letter. Don’t get me wrong, it is a brilliant way to give a girl butterflies. By all means, continue with those; but they are letters of attraction, flirtation, lust. Love is, perhaps, nearly the opposite. No, i’m not really talking about the south anymore – bear with me. Of course i’m talking about us. We have become more honest. And Jake said, “I don’t know why you like me.” “Neither do i,” i kissed her. That was my revelation. I could tell you why i should have left her by now, and what it is i don’t like and what i don’t understand. I could, of course, tell you why she is amazing. The list might be shorter. That, anyhow, is not the point; i am in love, and there is simply no explaining it. Or i don’t care to.
“Not Everybody Likes Us” – Hank III