Two and a half conversations.
Aug. 20th, 2019 08:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootThe half is the one that hasn't happened yet and must. The other two were last night.
First of all, old friend who hadn't known about my move.
His problems are many, possibly exacerbated by alcohol and depression. 'Everyone is going away,' he said, 'going away or dying...'
He's faced a few deaths over the past couple of years; we are at the age when that begins to happen. He never got over the death of his best friend in 2015. There have been more in rapid succession and these losses hit him very hard.
I get it; but the truth is, it's not me he's going to miss, it's past us, all of us, tumbling out of the Devereux, making our way around Tower and Temple, down stepped streets to the river a thousand years ago when the lights shone much brighter than they seem to now. His eyes spark up when he sees me but that's because I bring. Free entry to an exhibition, a glass of wine, a listening ear... It isn't even real selfishness on his part, more a slight myopia, the self-absorption of the isolated; it's no bother really, he is a very interesting, erudite old friend.
But now everything is changing, his sense of desolation deepens. I don't know what I can do about that.
And then the other; the eye-opener, the story that somehow I have missed. The mutual friend who saved my mate's life spoke to me last night, clarifying a lot. I knew he lost his job at the studio due to drugs, I now learn that excesses and lack of judgement have lost him two more; l learn that he has told many people half a story about everything, and downright lied about other issues.
'Lying,' said my friend down the phone, 'is what addicts do.'
Why didn't I realise he was an addict? A drug addict, a sex addict, surrounded by addicts. My partner rather dismissively called him a junkie some time ago, and I was sure it was the wrong word; my friend was in control of his pleasures. Then we went to dinner and he had to leave in the middle of it to make some deal and come back. He hasn't paid his last months rent, his mother has paid for his move out of London, all it's very quick, and apparently he has already received a couple of thumpings from some of the rough trade around Woolwich. Mutual friend suggests that a move might have been necessary,that he might have got on the wrong side of someone unpleasant. My partner heard this and asked me not to go back to the flat. I don't want to go there anyway, but surely he is over-reacting; surely... or surely I am Idiotboot, not seeing how bad things can get because it just doesn't occur to me. Going to his flat for dinner, it's candle lit and full of incense. Idiotboot thinks it's just him creating ambience. She doesn't realise until he is not there that the incense masks the smell of his room, the candlelight makes interesting shadows out of the dirt. She doesn't see a man who has been fighting or not fighting addiction for at least 10 years, and now losing that battle on a scene rife with G, Miaow Miaow, Cocaine, Meth... Let's face it, she's never going to be accused of being the World's Greatest Detective.
Even this is not the worst. One issue is so serious I do not recount it here. But I need to look him in the eye and the conversation must happen. He may never forgive me but I won't forgive myself if I don't.
Pff, it's all so grown up. I hate it.
First of all, old friend who hadn't known about my move.
His problems are many, possibly exacerbated by alcohol and depression. 'Everyone is going away,' he said, 'going away or dying...'
He's faced a few deaths over the past couple of years; we are at the age when that begins to happen. He never got over the death of his best friend in 2015. There have been more in rapid succession and these losses hit him very hard.
I get it; but the truth is, it's not me he's going to miss, it's past us, all of us, tumbling out of the Devereux, making our way around Tower and Temple, down stepped streets to the river a thousand years ago when the lights shone much brighter than they seem to now. His eyes spark up when he sees me but that's because I bring. Free entry to an exhibition, a glass of wine, a listening ear... It isn't even real selfishness on his part, more a slight myopia, the self-absorption of the isolated; it's no bother really, he is a very interesting, erudite old friend.
But now everything is changing, his sense of desolation deepens. I don't know what I can do about that.
And then the other; the eye-opener, the story that somehow I have missed. The mutual friend who saved my mate's life spoke to me last night, clarifying a lot. I knew he lost his job at the studio due to drugs, I now learn that excesses and lack of judgement have lost him two more; l learn that he has told many people half a story about everything, and downright lied about other issues.
'Lying,' said my friend down the phone, 'is what addicts do.'
Why didn't I realise he was an addict? A drug addict, a sex addict, surrounded by addicts. My partner rather dismissively called him a junkie some time ago, and I was sure it was the wrong word; my friend was in control of his pleasures. Then we went to dinner and he had to leave in the middle of it to make some deal and come back. He hasn't paid his last months rent, his mother has paid for his move out of London, all it's very quick, and apparently he has already received a couple of thumpings from some of the rough trade around Woolwich. Mutual friend suggests that a move might have been necessary,that he might have got on the wrong side of someone unpleasant. My partner heard this and asked me not to go back to the flat. I don't want to go there anyway, but surely he is over-reacting; surely... or surely I am Idiotboot, not seeing how bad things can get because it just doesn't occur to me. Going to his flat for dinner, it's candle lit and full of incense. Idiotboot thinks it's just him creating ambience. She doesn't realise until he is not there that the incense masks the smell of his room, the candlelight makes interesting shadows out of the dirt. She doesn't see a man who has been fighting or not fighting addiction for at least 10 years, and now losing that battle on a scene rife with G, Miaow Miaow, Cocaine, Meth... Let's face it, she's never going to be accused of being the World's Greatest Detective.
Even this is not the worst. One issue is so serious I do not recount it here. But I need to look him in the eye and the conversation must happen. He may never forgive me but I won't forgive myself if I don't.
Pff, it's all so grown up. I hate it.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}