Monday, February 27, 2012

The Art Of Friendship

Old a deep groove...

Friendship is a fickle mistress. Over the years, it is a primordial stew whose essence is like nailing jelly to a wall. Nothing can define it - nothing can truly verbalize it. Words fall short on the doorstep of description.

It transcends.

I used to think I knew who my good friends were. I made a lot of friends through a specific place and a specific venue. Those were golden times - framed in a warm innocence that can't be recaptured or relived. Ultimately, though, those times will be raptured. Raked under the gardening tool of God.

Siphoned. Recalled.

Friends are the folks who you think about calling but then end up calling you. Friends put their families aside, sometimes, because they know that the meaning of the words 'kinship' extend beyond bloodlines and into something very visceral.

I've lost some friends. I'm saddened by that - I truly am. There were some serious battle partners who held my psychological and spiritual weaponry in some tough times (and whom I did the same for). As time draws out like a lengthened blade, though, we are standing the wake of dirty reality and those 'friends' we thought we would never part with are ghosts - memories. Apparitions of a fake vapour trail.

But to be honest, and somewhat dirtily truthful, I don't care to be friends with those who don't get the cost of friendship. Those people are robots and moving through life in a dead, dry-weed manner - blown about by every passing breeze and non-foundational whir in everything they exude. I don't care for friends who want to play 'hide and seek' in a childish fashion, and who expect me to do all the work of contact and correspondence. I'm tired of being that guy. I've been that guy all my life.

Cut me some fucking slack. Pick up the damn phone and get over yourself.

Where are the friends who will return the favour? Where are the friends who will put aside their bullshit and pettiness, reaching out through the fog of the unknown and finding the lighthouse of contact?

I long for those people. I long to be in community with those people.

I long to hear from my friends.

My friends are a great people - often shifting in size and scope but certain in their outlook. They are friends who live on islands and friends who are not my immediate neighbours, but friends who are still truly 'there' in every notion of the word. They know what's going on in my current life. They don't smile at me falsely, and give me a handshake and a hug and a parting word. They stick with me. They jag with me.

They get over themselves - as they understand that I'm constantly getting over myself.

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