And Now, A Note From Michael Bone


Dear Guitar (who I’m glad I never named),

Seeing as I don’t know where you are right now, I figured the Synthesis was the only chance I had at reaching you. Forgive the lack of privacy in light of our situation:

It has been over a week since we last touched, and I’m a mess. I just…

I’m having trouble understanding why you left me like you did. Why you were in such a rush to jump into the back of that man’s car…

Was it me? Was I really that bad of a lover? Sure I repeatedly broke your strings, sending you hopelessly out of tune—as loving can do from time to time—but I want you to know that I always tried to make you sound your best.

Oh, Guitar…

I mean, how can you all of a sudden forget those nights—when we were both so young—when you laid in my arms until your sunburst met the sunrise? You used to smile as I so gently pressed stickers onto your body. I thought they made you look so beautiful.

Oh god…

You never thought so, did you?

Perhaps you never wanted to be what I’ve made you into. Maybe the puff paint was a bad call. The rust on the pickups was a bit too thick. I didn’t know!

Or was it when I started playing the drums more often?

Oh, Guitar… You’ve always had my heart, but it seems you don’t want my love. Perhaps you would prefer to be what you truly are, just like Josh’s keyboard and Gavin’s bass— another quick buck for the neighborhood scumbag.

You know what, I can live with that. If that’s what you want, I will survive. Just know that if you ever return I will take you back in an instant, no questions asked, and wash off whatever filth that man placed upon you.

Be safe, my dear.


Michael Bone



Help Michael and all the boys of Bogg replace their stolen instruments.

Survival of the Kindest

Cafe Coda

Thursday 2/27

doors 7:30pm, show 8pm

Tags: , , ,