on conversating

One of my lovely friends who left NYC was in town last week. He freelances now and he was here for over 3 days.

His boyfriend (not old) died suddenly not long ago.

So we were sitting on the balcony at his host's place doing lines in the cool air, like we wind up doing, high above the sidewalk. And as I wind up doing sometimes we ramble about death. And aside from some clarity it works that someone says my mom sounds like she was a cool lady.

She wasn't cool. She loved me fiercely, but she wasn't cool. My biggest advocate and support system, but not cool. It's one of those things people say though. I understand.

We keep it inside inside until sometime we laugh too long or ramble after too much of something, and then, in those speedy moments we find a little harmony.

And swig some beer and keep going.

Yeah mom, I miss you tons.