For whom does the wheel turn?
I've been trying to write this one for a couple weeks, but haven't been sure what to say.
Within two days, I went to two very sad, and very different, going away parties.
The first one was a last hurrah for mrieser. I'm not referring to the party at his house; that was fun, but it didn't feel like a goodbye party to me, it just felt like a big party at his place. I'm talking about a smaller group thrown together at the last second, having dinner in Cambridge and hanging out at Tosci's. It had the feeling of a bunch of manly guys sitting around drinking beer to see a buddy off, except that it wasn't all guys and we weren't at all manly and we were eating ice cream.
It was through mrieser that I met half the people I can call friends in Boston, and for this reason I have come to think of him as a hub 'round which a little piece of the world turns. And I will miss him, his insights, his incomprehensible cooking exploits, his boundless enthusiasm, his approach to dating, his constant efforts to bring people together.
But if that sounds sad, the party on the next day was a god damned tragic opera. It was a going-away party for H.V. and C.S., at K.T.'s house. I go way back with them, I met them more than 10 years ago by my count. The party was appropriate but very different from the one above. There was barbecue, beer, and a few short speeches -- no, speeches is the wrong word, it was more like an intimate conversation that a couple dozen people took part in. The party felt like saying goodbye.
I have come to think of the pair of them as a hub, too, but the hub of a merry-go-round I've never fully been able to get back on to. Whether that's because I was off of it too long, or because of my poor and lazy social skills, or because I can never wash the stains of the past off my hands, I don't know. But I will miss the two of them. Their humor, their caring, their stories, their Degrassi gossip, their good judgment and sound advice, hell, I'll even miss their cats.
It's scary to wonder how well the worlds they are part of will keep spinning without them. So much revolving, spinning and turning, it makes me dizzy. It's like the world is an incomprehensible, unforgiving piece of clockwork. You meet people, people go away, and you can never see the people coming, only going. I guess all I can do is hope they're happy and I hope the new friends they make know how lucky they are.
Within two days, I went to two very sad, and very different, going away parties.
The first one was a last hurrah for mrieser. I'm not referring to the party at his house; that was fun, but it didn't feel like a goodbye party to me, it just felt like a big party at his place. I'm talking about a smaller group thrown together at the last second, having dinner in Cambridge and hanging out at Tosci's. It had the feeling of a bunch of manly guys sitting around drinking beer to see a buddy off, except that it wasn't all guys and we weren't at all manly and we were eating ice cream.
It was through mrieser that I met half the people I can call friends in Boston, and for this reason I have come to think of him as a hub 'round which a little piece of the world turns. And I will miss him, his insights, his incomprehensible cooking exploits, his boundless enthusiasm, his approach to dating, his constant efforts to bring people together.
But if that sounds sad, the party on the next day was a god damned tragic opera. It was a going-away party for H.V. and C.S., at K.T.'s house. I go way back with them, I met them more than 10 years ago by my count. The party was appropriate but very different from the one above. There was barbecue, beer, and a few short speeches -- no, speeches is the wrong word, it was more like an intimate conversation that a couple dozen people took part in. The party felt like saying goodbye.
I have come to think of the pair of them as a hub, too, but the hub of a merry-go-round I've never fully been able to get back on to. Whether that's because I was off of it too long, or because of my poor and lazy social skills, or because I can never wash the stains of the past off my hands, I don't know. But I will miss the two of them. Their humor, their caring, their stories, their Degrassi gossip, their good judgment and sound advice, hell, I'll even miss their cats.
It's scary to wonder how well the worlds they are part of will keep spinning without them. So much revolving, spinning and turning, it makes me dizzy. It's like the world is an incomprehensible, unforgiving piece of clockwork. You meet people, people go away, and you can never see the people coming, only going. I guess all I can do is hope they're happy and I hope the new friends they make know how lucky they are.