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cinema_babePeople have been asking me how we met.
I don't really go to clubs and barely remember him at the Melody. We didn't have any friends in common or live in the same neighborhood.
However, the longer we spent together and talked about our respective pasts, the clearer it became that we were likely in the same locations at the same times. As teen agers we went to the same boardwalks and beaches and probably played skeeball or video games side by side. The years we lived in New Brunswick overlapped, I was friends with a neighbor of his and had actually been to the man's apartment when Jim and his wife lived next door. We were at some of the same concerts. We probably walked right past each other a hundred times.
So how did our parallel paths cross? With this post about the death of John Lennon. I am one of those people who is loath to say that anyone "meets" over the Internet, especially in a romantic sense but this is the first time communicated with each other (although we had periodically read each others journals in the past.)
Proto-Emo that I am, I once wrote a (long) poem that looked at slices of alternate realities where he and I met at different points in our lives with different outcomes. I wanted to read it last night when I came home last night to bed but my hands shook when I picked it up and so I put it back and one day in a month or a year or 10 years when the shock subsides and this sharp ache is more memory than companion, I'll read it.
I don't really go to clubs and barely remember him at the Melody. We didn't have any friends in common or live in the same neighborhood.
However, the longer we spent together and talked about our respective pasts, the clearer it became that we were likely in the same locations at the same times. As teen agers we went to the same boardwalks and beaches and probably played skeeball or video games side by side. The years we lived in New Brunswick overlapped, I was friends with a neighbor of his and had actually been to the man's apartment when Jim and his wife lived next door. We were at some of the same concerts. We probably walked right past each other a hundred times.
So how did our parallel paths cross? With this post about the death of John Lennon. I am one of those people who is loath to say that anyone "meets" over the Internet, especially in a romantic sense but this is the first time communicated with each other (although we had periodically read each others journals in the past.)
Proto-Emo that I am, I once wrote a (long) poem that looked at slices of alternate realities where he and I met at different points in our lives with different outcomes. I wanted to read it last night when I came home last night to bed but my hands shook when I picked it up and so I put it back and one day in a month or a year or 10 years when the shock subsides and this sharp ache is more memory than companion, I'll read it.
