On Friendship
The lawyers of Crane, Poole and Schmidt have always held a special place in my heart - especially the friendship between Denny Crane and Alan Shore.
Not many of us are lucky enough to know an Alan Shore in real life; not only am I lucky enough, but I'm lucky enough to be able to call him my best friend. I used to tell him that someday I wanted us to be like Alan and Denny - old lawyers having a scotch and a cigar on the balcony every night, talking. What best friends share with each other. That's a kind of connection you only find rarely, and you shouldn't toss it away like a penny on the street, old and useless and uninteresting.
The rollercoaster ride that has been our friendship of late (sometimes I think the worst thing I ever could have done for us was to move 2,000 miles to the same town) has often times entirely destroyed me. I sit there and wonder what happened to the boy I knew whose mind I could drift in and out of as easily and effortlessly, and as inevitably, as breathing. I don't know if we'll make it to middle age, to balconies and scotch and commiserating intimately. I'd like to think that some things are too good to go away, but twenty-one years has proven to me that I believe in forever too readily in a place where so little can be permanent.
And a very few sometimes, honestly, I don't want us to last. I want to sabotage it and run like hell - because it is hard to be that close and to trust so much to someone who isn't perfect. It's even harder when there are no pledges of forever to hold to or work toward. Friendships seem to count for so little - but I won't blink first.
Not many of us are lucky enough to know an Alan Shore in real life; not only am I lucky enough, but I'm lucky enough to be able to call him my best friend. I used to tell him that someday I wanted us to be like Alan and Denny - old lawyers having a scotch and a cigar on the balcony every night, talking. What best friends share with each other. That's a kind of connection you only find rarely, and you shouldn't toss it away like a penny on the street, old and useless and uninteresting.
The rollercoaster ride that has been our friendship of late (sometimes I think the worst thing I ever could have done for us was to move 2,000 miles to the same town) has often times entirely destroyed me. I sit there and wonder what happened to the boy I knew whose mind I could drift in and out of as easily and effortlessly, and as inevitably, as breathing. I don't know if we'll make it to middle age, to balconies and scotch and commiserating intimately. I'd like to think that some things are too good to go away, but twenty-one years has proven to me that I believe in forever too readily in a place where so little can be permanent.
And a very few sometimes, honestly, I don't want us to last. I want to sabotage it and run like hell - because it is hard to be that close and to trust so much to someone who isn't perfect. It's even harder when there are no pledges of forever to hold to or work toward. Friendships seem to count for so little - but I won't blink first.
"What I give to you, what I share, I do with no one else.
I like to think what you give to me, you do with nobody else.
Now that may seem silly to you. Here's what I think is silly:
The idea that jealousy or fidelity is reserved for romance."
I like to think what you give to me, you do with nobody else.
Now that may seem silly to you. Here's what I think is silly:
The idea that jealousy or fidelity is reserved for romance."
posted by juxtaposer at 11:14 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home