It’s snowing. Again.
The sun did come out yesterday afternoon, but it was more like some bad Elvis impersonator version of the sun. The light had this watery quality to it. And it was freezing cold.
Nevertheless, I forced myself to go running because you know: Exercise.
Wouldn’t this be a great world if the best way to keep in shape involved sitting on your ass eating hot fudge sundaes while watching endless episodes of The Real Housewives of New York?
And if neediness, self-pity, and desperation were sexual pheromones?
This is the 23rd anniversary of Tom Mandel’s death. I have my bottle of Laguvulin at the ready. Of all the dead people I know – and man, I know a lot of dead people – Tom remains the one I feel closest to.
He was my Best Friend during a Difficult Passage in my life that suddenly seemed as though it was about to get easy after I fell rapturously in LUV – not with him, may I hasten to say: Even back then when I was an idiot and my judgment was simply awful, I knew better than to fall in love with Tom.
But the older I get, the more I suspect that friendship is far more precious than LUV.
It took maybe two years for the illusion of LUV to pop but - little hoarder that I am – another 15 years for me to disentangle the LUV kudzu from the mighty oak tree’s roots.
Tom and I were excellent friends who had each other’s backs. And that was a point of honor.
I’m fairly certain that Max is the only person who has my back these days.
Though, of course, one strives to live one’s life in such a manner that one’s back need not be had.
This entry was originally posted at http://mallorys-camera.dreamwidth.org. You may leave comments on either Dreamwidth or LiveJournal if you like.