Phone calls

I have this friend, an old friend. A friend I would talk to about anything and everything until the sun came up and he would finally kick me out of his house when the cockroaches would run for shade. A friend who knew everybody and everybody knew him. A friend I thought would never part with their beloved record collection. A friend with more potential and talent in his middle finger than quite possibly anyone I’ve ever known. A friend I knew like a brother. A friend I looked up to more than he will probably ever know. A friend who still calls me randomly out of the blue to give me the news. A friend I don’t need to talk too constantly to know I can call if I ever need something…anything.

It’s funny where life has taken the two of us. Time has passed, distance has entered between us but the news always comes. The phone rings, it’s my friend; “I’m getting married!”, “Wilmington misses you.”, “Our friend X has passed away”, “My wife is pregnant!”, “I just wanted to tell you our friend X tried to commit suicide.”, “Guess who’s going to be on TV?”, “Did you know so and so has joined X (insert really famous band)”, “Well (insert another friend) is now chief editor of X (insert big magazine)”, “Well you know what happened to friend X right? They’re tour manager for X (insert another big band)”.

I never know what to expect when the phone shows his number, it’s either going to be really good or really bad. After reading an interview with a famous musician I started to think about all of the phone calls I’ve received through the years announcing the successes of mutual friends. In my own head lately I’ve been battling with who I am and where I am currently at in this world. I’m human; I am just like everyone else. What am I doing? Would I be happy back in the town that took 11 years and a cross country move for me to call home? A place where everyone knows my name? A place of familiarity? A place where my best friends and sometimes I think my only friends still live? Sure I miss it and sure it brings tears to my eyes with thoughts of the day I can afford to go back. It’s painful to think about for sure.

How did those people he spoke of get where they are? They didn’t just go home? Not that it’s a bad thing because believe me I’d be very happy about it. Am I in the pre-stages of being “the” phone call? Have I already been “the” phone call to our other mutual friends? You always here these stories about people who become successful and it always seems like such an after thought but what about when it’s happening? Do people know its happening? Did Brad Pitt know he was in the pre-stages when he was dressed in a chicken costume working for a fast food restaurant? I have so many doors and opportunities opening up for me yet I remain humbled and modest about it. It’s not my cup of tea to boast about things or show them off. I talk about them surely but do I really know what’s going on? Hell no! I am sitting in an empty apartment sipping my cheap wine and wishing I could afford furniture and rent. I’m not complaining, this is not a sob story, there’s plenty of bitching I could do but let’s face it; I got myself here.

This seems to be the era where grass roots Indy kids are allover the radio, internet and television. Maybe I have a chance in hell; if only I could figure out what I’m looking for. I’m an ok writer, I’m an ok hairdresser, I’m an ok photographer, and I’m pretty damn good at talking to myself. Who knows what this world holds…I don’t. All I know is, I will probably never know. Maybe my friend will call and tell me the news about me.

The end….ok maybe not…deal with it.