This doesn't mean that we're not still friends.

 

One of us likes to think about the time we went away. The other feels the weight of personal history as it takes its inevitable toll. When anyone issues a muffled whimper a hard choice could be in order. But for us to be able to leak salient details, then a series of coded taps on the partition could be our ticket into a structure of carefree support. I tell them all the time that one of our fondest memories is capping a lid in place and hearing the very satisfying click which accompanies the operation. If I recall correctly, I was wearing teal blue shorts, a beige turtleneck sweater and an Oxnard blazer. She stroked my hand in a way which made all the difference to my final adjustment. Anyone who insisted on arguing about the placement of printed cloths directly underneath critical modules would have to find a new activity with which to wile away the empty hours of their lives.

I'd been up since dawn and my  wife had come down with a minor condition. On my way to the courthouse, I rolled up on an incident already in progress. I secured the perimeter while my partner began attending cooking classes at the local Extension. Everyone I knew started to look at him like he was some kind of irresponsible lunatic. This was totally uncalled for. When I got to my feet and made a very careful decision to walk into town under my own power, it was all I could do to not seek revenge on a trusted family member. If there's one thing I know, it's how to get along with people who have trouble understanding their deepest motivations. For example, this guy called my show the other night and said he had a run-in with a very tough broad down by the waterfront. I told him to pipe down and stop acting like a first-class, grade A, jerk.

Do you think it's likely that anyone in your circle of acquaintanceships could ever see their way clear to have an honest discussion about minority-majority outreach after I'd left the room in a huff? I ask because one of my least ornery former classmates has asked to be given the run of the place while I do a few errands downtown. He says he won't be but a minute and meanwhile I have a rather distressing rash on the inside of my left eyelid. Some crybabies might not see the connection, but that would be on them, not me. For those who would (metaphorically) give their right arm to walk in the footsteps of our finest marketing honcho, I have no advice to share.  

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