I started this post several months ago. And every time I come back to it something else has changed.
This was me on March 14:
So, Where to begin. Starting now and working backwards? Or, Starting in December and working to today. Oh, hell, I'll just start with what's on my mind right now, and maybe it will make sense.
I should probably start with a list so I can remember.
I'll start with India.
I found out, today, that a very dear friend of mine is on his death bed, so to speak. More specifically, I've been told they're giving him a month to live. He's six feet tall and weighs less than 90 pounds. Not good.
I just don't understand. During the early eighties, he and I were friends among a group of 12 (give or take 3 or 4 as appropriate) who were pretty much inseperable, outside of not living or working together -- we were always together. And, if not all of us, a good many of us. Let's just say that none of us went without the company of one of our good friends, ever. We were always out dancing. Or watching drag queens throw ashtrays from the stage (during especially emotional numbers like "It Should Have Been Me") who subsequently was punched in the mouth by my dentist after shards of glass sprayed his face. (He tipped Xavier a dollar as he punched him). Sorry, tangent. We Shopped. We Traveled. We would drive an hour and a half to "go to the tubs" on a late Saturday night after the bar had closed. Or if a drive to Indianapolis was out of the question, we'd go to the DMZ (dirty movie zone) where some of us would play Asteroids or Centepede while the others sought glory from a hole in the wall. Let's just say I really didn't find anything about being there glorious, and I really didn't like Centipede, but I loved my friends and would go with them just about anywhere. Even if I had to play Centipede.
Anyway, for most of the time, this particular friend had been one of my closest. You know how when there's a group that you always have one or another you gravitate toward -- and that gravitation ebbs and flows with time -- but we were always close. Or, so I thought. A little more background. Beginning in 1983 or so, we began drifting apart, geographically. A couple of us moved to Chicago. Four of us moved to Houston. I moved here, to Memphis, with my future coke-head, cheating, ex-husband. Others stayed in Louisville. As time passed, we began losing many of our friends. And, today, there are only three of us left. Him, me and a friend in Coral Springs. Possibly another, but I haven't seen or heard from him in 14 years. Let's just let it suffice to say that 6 of us are gone. And the remaining few haven't done a very good job staying in touch.
Understand that he's never told me that he's sick. Or, positive (I am guessing). Or that he's contracted some rare disease that he can fix with vitamins and magnets. He was always optimistic, yet believed that the goverment or health care system was responsible for AIDS.
Today, May 18, 2006, he has been gone for nearly a month. I miss him and think of him often. And, I guess I'm not mad at him. Anymore.