Way to show up and take me to lunch. I’m enjoying this new-found sense of freedom you’ve got. It makes me think about when we first moved to DC and you were unemployed and totally at my beck and call. Ah, the good old days.
I especially enjoyed getting guilt for not going to your birthday party. As always, I came up with the perfect alibi: Uh, I had to go to my dad’s funeral.
Seriously, if you think for a second that anything but that would have kept me from the rager that was your thirtieth, you’re crazy.
As Blur said, “It’s the end of a century.” Or, at least, the middle of one.
To friends. And Burke’s Dick. (And Dick Burke’s Dick, of course, without whom Burkie would not be even a shadow of the man he is today.) And, to the United Nations.
You were the first person to take care of me when I found out my dad had cancer. We drank margaritas at 2 pm and I was drunk by 4. We talked about death and suicide and life and it was the first time in a long time that I didn’t feel alone. Thank you for being my friend.
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