Thursday, March 3, 2011
A dear friend is moving far, far away. When I left her tonight I went through some powerful feelings of love and loss and closeness.
When I was young, after a fairly depressed and isolated childhood, I got into a household with three creative souls. Going home at the end of a workday was one of the most exciting events in my life, just to find out what my housemates were doing creating being. And I got to do it every day. Coming home after a trip was like going to the circus as a little kid for the first time.
I miss that, when going home is the most exciting bliss of anticipation.
Once, my best friend and house mate had been picked up by a society matron 30 years his senior at a poetry reading. He was bringing her home for a non-intimate sex thing, and told me and another house mate to be straight, no creative hijinks when this matron landed on our shores.
Well, I'd just smoked some weed and I had a BIG problem keeping a straight face when under the influence. So I'm sitting there trying to be stone faced while mightily stoned when my friend came through with this lady. Another house mate asked her a question, but she didn't answer and he left.
Then she turned to me and answered his question as if I'd asked it. Which under the circumstances felt like the most funny thing to happen ever in the history of the world.
I managed to keep a straight, solemn face until she left to do that thing with my friend, but I bust out laughing then, and my other house mate returned and found it funny as well.
God, those were the days. I had 15 months of that, then went off to do bellows breathing 3-4 hours a day for a year.
“The Thieves of Joy” – A Guest Post By Art Holcomb
12 hours ago