  " I have no friends" : A bitter tale of betrayal I hard a hard childhood. Begging for scraps like some kind of irishman, bumming cigarettes off tramps to keep me warm on those arctic winters in South Herts.
Sometimes I would dream about the regular meals and relative luxury of a Siberian gulag. Yes, my friends, my upbringing was harsh - but I don't my resent being brought into this thankless world. I embraced the challenges my deprived youth offered me. They made me stronger - I fed off my own cruel memories.
Fear was for the weak, and the weak were damned. And then hope appeared to me in the form of a generally raggedy binch of scallywags who i learned to call friends. For many years we toiled under the same roof, shared baths and Padre Hordanez broke bread with us all. They were my kin. And no more did I turn back to those breadless winters of my past. Years later our lives all underwent a similar magintude of transformation. We found religion. Rather, that is, religion found us. Religion perhaps does not best descibe what we found. Others may think of more colourful descriptions: craze, fad... some even called it a cult. Ingrates!
What beligerance! After the all the great G'Nre had done to change our world, to make it more ordered and obviously categorised. How could they not see. This great Power had taught me many skills and lessons - a code of living that will stay with me always. And we all loved the great G'Nre equally. We all practised the sacred arts together and with complete priority.
There was not a single stray musical note that did not have its place in our corpus of melody. The sincerity with which we completed our tasks was unflinching. But the Work could not be done alone; bonds were formed, alliances made - even within our tight brotherhood. And after many sessions of genrenical toil, I found new levels of trust and understanding with two brothers of the Faith: Brother Danielus and Brother Jamiens. And together we reached new levels of musical piety. We were as close to Genre perfection as we thought possible.
Or so I thought. Everything seemed to be in place. Not a stray note. There were disagreements obviously, it wasn't a science. But we were knee deep in pure musical categorisation. This was the stuff that filled the rivers of Heaven. The ambrosia of melody and rhythm. We were so close. So close to the final card in this fragile pyramid of order and musical classification.
And then one day the dream ended. The cunning house of cards came tumbling down. Somebody had pulled the foundations from my world. My genres had been tampered with and my hope destroyed. But who could have have been behind this heinous act. On some level, I had hoped that human hands could not have been to blame...but I knew. In my shattered heart I knew where the responsibilty lay. In the only place it could my faithful readers, the two brothers whom I had once called my kin. There treachery was complete. I had now only the Genres by my side. I have no friends. 
