...I'm drunk so bear this message with a grain of salt...
I have come to the halting conclusion that friendship, no matter how long removed, is the one constant in our lives. I'll tell you why.
I met this kid, and I mean kid, Brian, when I was a kindergartener. I was the token nerd, he was the asshole that ate my retromutagen ooze (TMNT anyone?) and got to miss half a day being rushed to the emergency room. After that, we were the Milo and Oatis of our grade. We transcended 4th, 5th, even the choppy waters of 6th grade as inseperable compadres. When my grandmother found a break and got a short children's story published, who was there to co-illustrate but her grandson and his best friend Brian.
But suddenly, as 8th grade came and went, and we parted with the idea of being the next big thing for DC Comics, I went off to private school posh and well taken care of, and Brian disappeared into public school #155. Or something like that.
I didn't see him for 4 full years.
The next thing I know, college comes along, and as swiftly as freshman year went by, the summer thereof was poised at the ready to strike me in the face with unemployment. It was by sheer chance that I would again be buddied with Brian as my co-councilor at a YMCA camp (a last resort) and some of the folks I would spend a lifetime with.
That summer we were rockstars. It was like he was stealing my Ninja Turtles all over again. Except by Ninja Turtles I mean beer. The second shop closed up and we hauled the little 6-12 year old monsters onto the bus, Bri and I would smoke a bowl by my hot tub and hang out all night, just....reminiscing.
Oddly, I feel like I've spent more of my life remenising than I have living. Feel free to comment.
But that summer, I knew, was not to be replicated, and the following (after 2 magical weeks where my folks went to Ireland and I threw a 200 person party spaning 5 days, hosted by myself and Brian) was much more mundane. Needless to say, from that point in my life on, I would float back to those moments by the pool, those pockets of sobriety despite our drunken stuppor, and sigh.
Until tonight. Brian called me, after the two of us drifted off the radar for 2 full years. I was out of work, he was back at Y Camp and drinking heavily as a result, and it was a mutual friend's 21st birthday. My intention? Stop by and say hi. Needless to say, its 2:30 AM. I've said Hi in every language imaginable by now and still had time for shots.
But the fundamental part of this story is this: Brian and I sat, backs against his beat up jetta, wasted, in the parking lot and both fearful of the sobering drive home, and just...were. Kindergarten, freshman year...what did it matter? We were the same people. The interests had changed from cartoons to sex lives, the two of us grew a taste for the bottle, but we were both the same. And we talked lin one of those pockets of sobriety to a point where I wont forget it for a long time.
Random shit. The weather. The drama of his having a girlfriend in Argentina. Why Shrinkie Dinks never caught on.
And in a flash, he and I drove home and parted ways.
But before I go to bed tonight, I wanted to write this entry, as insurmountable proof as to the essence of friendship. Everyone out there has at least one friend, one person, where no matter how much life tries to split you apart, nothing matters. I feel like I found that person in Brian. A friend. A confidant. A guy.
For all those folks out there who have found there guy, bear in mind: drunk or sober, young or old, every now and then, life throws us a bone. If you can look up at the stars one night and bob your head forward to a friend you have seen sparingly throughout your life, and KNOW that everything you say around each other is COMFORTABLE, honest, and true, you have found friendship.
And the world, try as it might, can never take that away.
Here's to you Bri.
...Salut and goodnight. Here's hoping I'm not hungover for work...
I have come to the halting conclusion that friendship, no matter how long removed, is the one constant in our lives. I'll tell you why.
I met this kid, and I mean kid, Brian, when I was a kindergartener. I was the token nerd, he was the asshole that ate my retromutagen ooze (TMNT anyone?) and got to miss half a day being rushed to the emergency room. After that, we were the Milo and Oatis of our grade. We transcended 4th, 5th, even the choppy waters of 6th grade as inseperable compadres. When my grandmother found a break and got a short children's story published, who was there to co-illustrate but her grandson and his best friend Brian.
But suddenly, as 8th grade came and went, and we parted with the idea of being the next big thing for DC Comics, I went off to private school posh and well taken care of, and Brian disappeared into public school #155. Or something like that.
I didn't see him for 4 full years.
The next thing I know, college comes along, and as swiftly as freshman year went by, the summer thereof was poised at the ready to strike me in the face with unemployment. It was by sheer chance that I would again be buddied with Brian as my co-councilor at a YMCA camp (a last resort) and some of the folks I would spend a lifetime with.
That summer we were rockstars. It was like he was stealing my Ninja Turtles all over again. Except by Ninja Turtles I mean beer. The second shop closed up and we hauled the little 6-12 year old monsters onto the bus, Bri and I would smoke a bowl by my hot tub and hang out all night, just....reminiscing.
Oddly, I feel like I've spent more of my life remenising than I have living. Feel free to comment.
But that summer, I knew, was not to be replicated, and the following (after 2 magical weeks where my folks went to Ireland and I threw a 200 person party spaning 5 days, hosted by myself and Brian) was much more mundane. Needless to say, from that point in my life on, I would float back to those moments by the pool, those pockets of sobriety despite our drunken stuppor, and sigh.
Until tonight. Brian called me, after the two of us drifted off the radar for 2 full years. I was out of work, he was back at Y Camp and drinking heavily as a result, and it was a mutual friend's 21st birthday. My intention? Stop by and say hi. Needless to say, its 2:30 AM. I've said Hi in every language imaginable by now and still had time for shots.
But the fundamental part of this story is this: Brian and I sat, backs against his beat up jetta, wasted, in the parking lot and both fearful of the sobering drive home, and just...were. Kindergarten, freshman year...what did it matter? We were the same people. The interests had changed from cartoons to sex lives, the two of us grew a taste for the bottle, but we were both the same. And we talked lin one of those pockets of sobriety to a point where I wont forget it for a long time.
Random shit. The weather. The drama of his having a girlfriend in Argentina. Why Shrinkie Dinks never caught on.
And in a flash, he and I drove home and parted ways.
But before I go to bed tonight, I wanted to write this entry, as insurmountable proof as to the essence of friendship. Everyone out there has at least one friend, one person, where no matter how much life tries to split you apart, nothing matters. I feel like I found that person in Brian. A friend. A confidant. A guy.
For all those folks out there who have found there guy, bear in mind: drunk or sober, young or old, every now and then, life throws us a bone. If you can look up at the stars one night and bob your head forward to a friend you have seen sparingly throughout your life, and KNOW that everything you say around each other is COMFORTABLE, honest, and true, you have found friendship.
And the world, try as it might, can never take that away.
Here's to you Bri.
...Salut and goodnight. Here's hoping I'm not hungover for work...