Another One for the Soundtrack
When I was in the loony bin, this was my room mate's favorite song. It was never my favorite David Bowie song - I'll take Life on Mars any day - but when you're hanging out with a bunch of people who have made suicide attempts, it takes on a different significance than when you're in high school and hanging out in front of the Stop N Go, smoking cigarettes with your friends.
After I got out of the bin, I corresponded for a while with one of my best friends from High School. We were in our mid-thirties by then, but he still retained the skinny physique and full head of blond hair that gave him a Bowie-esque appearance when he was a kid - although he really looked more like Daryl Hall.
We still send this song back and forth sometimes just because it's nice to know that somebody out there knows your flaws and vulnerabilities but thinks you're wonderful all the same. That's my favorite kind of friend.
After I got out of the bin, I corresponded for a while with one of my best friends from High School. We were in our mid-thirties by then, but he still retained the skinny physique and full head of blond hair that gave him a Bowie-esque appearance when he was a kid - although he really looked more like Daryl Hall.
We still send this song back and forth sometimes just because it's nice to know that somebody out there knows your flaws and vulnerabilities but thinks you're wonderful all the same. That's my favorite kind of friend.
posted by PENolan at
9:30 PM
6 Comments:
that's the only kind of real friend.
Hey Trish-
I love those things that connect us to another and how over the years they retain their meaning. Shared experiences do that. :-)
Love you
Gail
peace.....
"it's nice to know that somebody out there knows your flaws and vulnerabilities but thinks you're wonderful all the same."
Absolutely.
I am sufficiently aware of my own foibles--and they are so obvious--and sufficiently convinced of my own wonderfulness, that sharing them with someone else would be redundant, or selfish self-pleading...
I never made it into the bin. Had a buncha group, and some individual counseling, and drugs...
I foreswore my last chemical intervention (one of those interrupters) when i found it cut into my weed buzz...
Self-medication rawks...
Ziggy! How I loved that album. Still know the lyrics. Impresses my 13-year-old all to hell.
A very nice friend indeed.
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