Sunday, March 25, 2018

No one that we'll ever meet...

Neo’s likebook account was deactivated which froze our messenger conversation (which he has not been contributing to). This was done once before for a month or few, preceded by his instructing me to use email for communication. This occasion came without any instructions and my email inquiry has not been answered so far. I’m okay with all of this, though I certainly wonder what he’s going through.

Perhaps I am among those he wants space from. Perhaps it is mainly me. Or perhaps he’ll turn up again soon. I understand he’s going through a particularly tough time while he’s attempting to break an addiction and company is largely undesired.

I don’t need to know unless he chooses to tell me.

Academically I’m forced to interpret his behaviour as troubling but it’s not my job to interfere uninvited. Regardless what many conflicting perspectives he cycles through with regards to our friendship and all the problems he perceives (imagines in my opinion), my perspective has reached some stability. From my point of view I remain his friend and remain available regardless what he’s thinking at any given time and whether he’s currently reachable or not.

I accept his limitations. I know not to count on him when I feel the need to talk to a friend who understands me. Sometimes he might be available. Other times I will either find someone else who will have to do - or else go without. So be it.

Academically I recognize that there is a somewhat tragic waste of opportunity happening but oh well. Who knows what the future may bring.

I’m not really sure how much of my relaxed attitude is a result of wisdom and presence as opposed to simply reaching a point of emotional exhaustion and simply losing the stamina to keep on caring so ardently. Either way the peace feels very real. I will continue to care about him and to trust that he will keep himself alive long enough that I will hear from him again.

Coming home from a family nephew babysitting gig Friday night, I took a route home which happens to run - not on the same street - but within sight of - the most recent known home of my former best friend of sixteen years, once known here as Porn King (rather inappropriately). Several times a year I happen to pass this way and always tend to look and spot familiar vehicles in the driveway.

On this occasion there were no such vehicles - or any at all. There was a dumpster in the driveway and a sign on the lawn. Overcome by curiosity I took a brief detour and read the sign and can pretty confidently deduce that they have moved.

I think about the various reasons that people move.

Some of those explanations would make me wonder about certain change of life events and make me wonder if he might be in need of a friend these days. He has always kept friendships to a minimum. He was once extremely special to me. For my part, that fondness will never go away, though for him - he lost interest in me. I can imagine many reasons why, and the truth probably lies somewhere in between them all. I was a much different person then, and not with robust integrity at times.

I just pray he always knows he’s always welcome to look me up. There are no problems. No worries. It’s all cool. And it would always be wonderful to see him again. It’s been years.

Yesterday I went to the hospital with Sick Boy and The Healer to visit with The Liaison who has been battling cancer and who is fairly clearly not winning.

I was struck by the haunted look in his eyes as he frequently stared right into mine. Now and then he summoned the energy to receive what we were saying and to hoarsely, briefly, respond.

I wonder is he contemplating the end. Is he wondering about our own agenda. Is he wondering, do we know something he doesn’t?

I am now finally learning that he may not really have any local friends beyond us writers. And if our casual relationship is thus elevated in his experience?

Am I fucking up yet again with regards to the terminally ill - if that is what he is - and my capacity to be useful? I am such a drastic underachiever in this arena.

This was one of the first songs I ever wrote. It is partly an ode to dear Mr. Harrison. It is on youtube in a rudimentary form.

A Thousand Loves

So fragile, so weak
The heart's a miracle in every beat
In every house on every street
In every corner the cancers creep

If you go to George and ask
He'll tell you everything must pass

Our days are few and each one fleet
A thousand loves are ours to seek
Yet no one that we'll ever meet
May we claim our own somehow to keep

If you go to George and ask
He'll tell you everything must pass

If you go to George and ask
He'll say there's no damn way to last

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