this time around
got a call from an old friend last night. and for the first time in the six or so years that i've known him, i actually enjoyed our conversation. the last time we talked was more than a year ago and although i can still sum up the whole talk in the same way it has always been, last night was quite different.
we'd always begin with "how are you?", glad to hear your voice again. and then i'd ask, so how's the novel going? and he'd start talking about how fickle the mind is, how the littlest detail of the afternoon can conjure stories and thus ruin a carefully-laid out story line. and then onto movies and actors and directors with weird foreign names.
he used to read me pages off a book he happened to think would inspire me or send me e-mail of articles on films and art. i used to think that he only liked to talk about himself, what he liked, what he dreamed of.
the conversation was the same but somehow, without the pre-conceived notion that he should be interested in the litttlest i do or say, or that he should be inspired by me, i see his intentions clearly. he wants me to explore his life and see for myself what is there to like or love.
we are good friends now. and sometimes he'd just send me lines and i'd respond and we'd create a poem with contrasting emotions but one thought. is he my soulmate? i don't think so. i believe though that we were meant to meet. and i'm glad that in the bends of our separate roads, we sit and think that we have each other to finish each other's lines.
we'd always begin with "how are you?", glad to hear your voice again. and then i'd ask, so how's the novel going? and he'd start talking about how fickle the mind is, how the littlest detail of the afternoon can conjure stories and thus ruin a carefully-laid out story line. and then onto movies and actors and directors with weird foreign names.
he used to read me pages off a book he happened to think would inspire me or send me e-mail of articles on films and art. i used to think that he only liked to talk about himself, what he liked, what he dreamed of.
the conversation was the same but somehow, without the pre-conceived notion that he should be interested in the litttlest i do or say, or that he should be inspired by me, i see his intentions clearly. he wants me to explore his life and see for myself what is there to like or love.
we are good friends now. and sometimes he'd just send me lines and i'd respond and we'd create a poem with contrasting emotions but one thought. is he my soulmate? i don't think so. i believe though that we were meant to meet. and i'm glad that in the bends of our separate roads, we sit and think that we have each other to finish each other's lines.
entrada de bismuth a las
7:57 p. m.
4 comentarios:
it's the same as growing up without growing apart. you mature and you realize you're well-equipped to understand people better compared to, say, a few years ago, when you were young and bull-headed.
not all people can handle passion. it's not always like a fire that burns bright. sometimes it's in little messages that seem to mean nothing, in long stories that tend to bore. it can come in the sleight of hand.
"he wants me to explore his life and see for myself what is there to like or love."
jesus, bismuth. your simplest words spawn revolutions.
all three: it feels good that as we grow older we can still discover new things about people we've always known. or know new things about ourselves with people we thought we already know too much of. how mistakes of this kind create such pure delight.
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