The Unswung Bat

Wednesday, July 13, 2005
 
Still Green

Yes, well.

One of those late nights at a bar, of which I haven't had nearly enough this year, or this lifetime come to think of it. An encounter, unsolicited and except in one forever sorry spot of bruised soul un-particularly-wanted meeting with an old friend long since lost became the crowning element. The - I hesitate to say it - real value of the encounter was more than anything else in retracing with a friend of old and inarticulable importance some familiar lines of hurt, knowing in advance through that selfish prescience of shared pain that the familiarity would be mutual.

One of the few situations into which I can dredge up a hurtful memory, knowingly and to an extent for my own benefit, without being a total bastard toward everyone else. In fact one of the few situations into which I can drag a painful memory at all, bastard or not. A rare misdemeanor, solicitation of a complicity already established, silently, in one way or another. Proffering as by ritual the reminder neither of us needs. That old friend looked different this time, maybe a sign of growth on one part or both, or maybe on each. I've always been one to wait and see what time and age jointly bring.

I'd say I'm thankful of the event, in the strange way of a disturbance of the old and genuinely uncomfortable, yes, but if you think I'm altogether glad about it you've been breathing the wrong atmosphere.



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