Wednesday, October 5, 2011

For he's a jolly good fellow

My best friend is a renegade, a poet, a musketeer in the best sense of the word. He goes looking for adventure and adventure finds him, I could say the same for trouble, but with every trouble seeker, adventure is the main pursuit. Not more than three hours off the plane from Bali, he's at a woman's house, servicing his needs. His bags are neatly tucked away at my house, door always unlocked, in case he needs to creep back in during the breaking dawn. Being on Bali time, he wasn't going to bed anyway, so its no surprise that he got no sleep last night. I've never stayed up waiting for him, because I know him, and I know what he and I get up to when we gallivant around foreign countries, shady back alleys and unknown city streets, so it came as no surprise when I couldn't get a hold of him this morning; I've picked him up from many a random house, and I knew he'd call if he needed a ride. That's what friendship is. True friendship. True friendship is never judging. True friendship is getting excited for them when they are growing, and setting boundaries when they could get syphilis. True friendship is listening to the harrowing tales of a broken heart, knowing this too will pass. True friendship is offering a helping hand, a loving hug or a slap to the head when needed. I live with this man. We travel together across continents, through airports, in and out of look-a-like hotels, into dark streets, loud bars, interesting predicaments. He is my blood, my sweat and my tears. He's a brother in the true sense of the word. For when I've needed a lesson, he has appeared as the teacher, and when I've needed a confidant, he's bee my partner in crime. I can honestly say I wouldn't be who I am today without this man. Maybe its the fact that we tour together every year that keeps our bond so strong, maybe its that crazy attracts crazy. Whatever the reason may be, I'm glad he's here, and I'll pick him up from any street corner, anytime.




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