We were standing outside the club and staying out of the rain. Mostly.
"How are y'now?"
"Tired of Mister angrypants."
I tried not to snort. Buddy had a way of naming people that just stuck. Not always kind. But deadly accurate.
"Still the same." He took one last drag and pitched the butt into the can. "Every chord change he bungles. Every lyric he mis-remembers. And always with the angry. Six months of rehearsal and it's like all he's improved is his level of whacked."
Sounded like… I tried to remember the line. Oh yeah, "Careful what you practice," I said it out loud. "It's what you get good at."
"Yup. Tried to explain the concept to 'im," he said. "Dude just didn't wanna know. Practically bit my head off. Rent's due, but I'm not bein' paid enough for abuse."
"It's one of the things he does. Comes with the package. But yeah, you're right. Gets in the way of us actually learning anything."
"Man...," he shook his head. "Like trynna ride a bicycle while it's chained to the couch"
Wasn't wrong.
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