. RIP john, My friend..Yes, I had to, just to stay sane,but since i quit, my life has never been the same, 9 yrs ago in 20-12 i couldn’t go near the dam liquor shelf.Mad at the world, The James Deanstyle, running in and out without even a Smile. The people i’ve seen dying, by my side, and the rest of the gang, not quite alive.. They conjured up change,A quarter at a time, begged a little more and wound up with a dime..Telling the world, how they feel inside, feeling the relief off a bottle of wine.I had to quit but and it dawned on me though, larry’s no longer alive and neither is Joe.. To be non fiction his name is revealed, john was the man who was dealt the worst deals..Good ole john, I liked him alot, we knew each other well and we knew were distraught, He had his style in a business jacket, a dressed up BaptistAnd a cold stone addict, begging just the same, in the neat town, people knew him cause they seen him around.Sleeping in the parking lot, and some at the lake, not going to sleep because of the tremors and shakes. Crying once again late at night, wanting to give up and planning it just right,Seldomly laughing though it would never end, hoping and praying for my best friend. John was old and had parkinsons disease, he talked about god and other things, He did have a room in a quaint little house, but he was too confused because of his mental health. I moved away, from myBarrel boys days, and intentionally sought help from some old AA’s..So the storys winds up as it stems forever, feeling sorry for the folks whoDidn’t make it through the weather..The times and memories from buggingIn that town, James and john and us all being around, They seemed like it never would end, i didn’t say goodbye but it had to end.. I remember them well, as in a story from a book, and my johnny and the others that it took..