I’ve been reconnecting with old friends at a variety of java joints all over town, and guzzling in the process larger-than-usual quantities of tea, steamed milk, chai and (once) Perrier, but never coffee. I’m talking (or at least trying to talk) more frankly than is my wont, and deliberately asking about schools, spiritual paths and whatnot. I’m not much for small talk. Rather, i tell myself frequently that i’m not much for small talk, so i more or less believe it. Important distinction.
It’s interesting how easily i can slip back into old patterns with people, even after years’ of absence. But at least i’m more or less aware of it now. That’s a priority on this walkabout: No unconscious slippage.
There’s the aforementioned (in this blog) Ms Erica, driven to understand and apparently doomed never to understand. She’s pretty much the wisest, most delicate chick i know. Strong like glass, but fragile. We’re opposite-sexed doppelgangers, E and i, both members of the Church of Bumble.
Here’s the bubbly, adventurous, adorable Tofitian-at-heart Helen (a.k.a. Pure Hel), ‘nordinately proud of her new camping stove. She’s a force of nature in the department of relentless cheer. About anybody else that would be a mild insult; about Pure Hel it’s a statement of admiration. I mean really.
Here long-ago housemates Jocelyn and Robert are about to be thrown out of Starbuck’s, shortly after we were all thrown out of the VAG‘s KRAZY! exhibit. (Go see the show, but know that it’s huge — two or three visits would be best. And Tuesday is the cheap day, not Thursday.) Sometimes it amazes me that i am capable of sitting in civilized company and not making an ass of myself. These two make it easy.
And Bonnie, my oddest acquaintance in that i don’t know how we became friends, or even why we’re friends, just that we are friends, and have been for years. We agreed tonight that she’s a DQ (drama queen), but man is she smart in the way of the world. Good for advice. Dang, i forgot to ask her about schools.
All these people mean something to me in the merry-go-round of existence. It’s weird how some people do and some people don’t, and that nothing seems to characterize one group or the other.
Most of the above being women, i know they’re going to read this blog entry and their Machiavellian, multiply interconnected, hyper-intuitive female minds are going to be incensed, wondering Is that how he thinks of me? The answer is no, that’s not how i think of you, but i’m a man so that’s how it comes out. No offence, we’re still friends, i don’t hate you, it’s not over.