| better words . . . . here there and everywhere |
"Think of the number 3", one of us will say, and then we both start laughing. Five years ago, we laughed for two months straight and, while everyone noticed, and some fitfully rolled their eyes, as we stumbled around, drunk or not, that simple fact matters more than anything else... more than you leaving in two weeks for another country, across an ocean, where all our nonsense will have to be written down and sent off, leaving pitiful gaps between our strange conversations. But I've already started planning all the silly gifts I'll be sending you. And again, like other Summers, we'll be trying to outdo eachother in the familiar "How to best embarass one another in front of the postman", concoting new and clever, but lewd and suggestive, envelope decoration. And if I had to list all the best things about you, I couldn't, because, really, there isn't enough time to sort through it all... But it means so much that you never Pissed on my Parade, not once and not for a second. You understand silliness and the necessity for silliness more than anyone I know, and you cherish and encourage it whenever and wherever it happens. When I wanted to run away to L.A. and sell beads out of a van, you smiled and added new dimensions to my fantasy, while others snickered and felt the primitive need to remind me that "I couldn't make it in L.A., anyway", and "Oh, please, you're not the kind of person who'd do that". You smiled because you understood that it wasn't about me packing up and buying a one way bus ticket. It was about sharing, and silliness, and beautiful, poetic nonsense. And you knew that it didn't matter if I ended up in L.A. or not, that what mattered was that moment, whether carried through or quickly abandoned. And for the first time, with a friend, there wasn't judgment, only an inviting, outstretched ear. You never had an agenda or a secret list of "what my friends must be like/have accomplished" to captivate your interest. Your pure heart truly dazzled me (although, at first, I always waited for the other shoe to drop- the defining moment of a friendship or lack of- when you realize that a certain, undefined hatred has been festering and now finally oozes copiously-- but that never happened with you). At a time when everyone seemed to be testing one another, we took refuge in laughter, beauty, sincerity, and honest friendship. We loved eachother, warts and all, with no misconceptions or false displays of grandiose achievements. You never gave a shit about competing grades, listing summer jobs, enumerating love conquests, or any other characteristic 20-something's Status Symbol. You cared about what I thought, what I dreamed, and the things that I did that really counted. And with a swish of long, black hair, with large eyes peering over purple sunglasses- both a fleeting and eternal image of you- we're saying a kind of good-bye that will last four years, maybe longer. And I'm being silly again because I already miss you. |
better places . . . . over under and through |