Recently, a grieving friend offered this to another: the world is fucked. life sucks. your friends are here to help you through it.
Which seems pretty grim. Except at that moment, things probably felt pretty grim. In the middle of really tough times, remembering your friends are here, not to change the situation but to help you through it, that’s a powerful realization. And the only comfort that can be offered sometimes.
It’s been a rough year for a lot of people I know. The big changes of this fall—the all or nothing gestures seem borne out enormous loss. Yet, here we are.
Am I using this as an opportunity to write a thank you note to everyone who supported me in the past year. A little. But I want you to share in the appreciation of the people around us who won’t tell you that it isn’t terrible but also won’t leave your side.
This is Keep Writing number 125, sent late September 2019.
while searching my own name on the internet one night I found this audio recording of a letter to my friend walker. it is part of an audio zine I don’t remember. I don’t know how it ended up here, on youtube. I do remember all the events described, though I had forgotten who was in the house on the night I describe. I am surprised and yet not actually surprised but the similar language in this story and the postcard above, made 14 years apart. I am glad I mention people I still see frequently here. Anyway, here it is: