Still Shooting the Breeze
7.07.2008
Oh Marius, let's really sit down & talk about this mustache.
I think about all the hours we sat in a small, kosher cafeteria reading the New York Times & shooting the breeze: Marius, John, Candace, Elizabeth, and I. Two years we sat together before our Dostoevsky final, on autumn days that Marius & I would loiter a few extra moments on the front steps taking pictures of each other, watching strange creatures among us (the boy I called Prince & the girl who pierced her calf and was indifferent to warnings of muscle atrophy), in blizzards & candle lit Christmas dinners, with the Rabbi's special stir fry that was so spicy it made our noses run every Wednesday, and my crush on anything strange combined with Elizabeth's Victorian lust & Candace's strong opinions mixed with John's populist coif and a pinch of Marius.
Generations of friends: spending hours upon hours gobbling each other's souls & thoughts in a certain time frame. I wish each generation would last for a lifetime- to sit with you and talk every day of my life. And how do you grapple with those that honestly you would do anything to keep in your life forever?? I miss each generation & am beyond ecstatic when we can come together, years later, and still click. Still shooting the breeze. Even if it is just for one evening.