*

Today, my friend * arrives.

I call him * because his parents didn't give him a middle name, so on the line for middle names on his birth certificate it says *. He took that to BE his middle name. I love it. I love him.

I haven't seen him in five years, and then it was at a party for one night. Before that, I can't remember. I think another party after he completed the AIDS ride, so he wasn't fully there.

And when he is fully there, it is great.

He was a huge inspiration to me when I was young.

I met him at the age of 20. He was a first year teacher at the college I had just transferred to. He saw one of my first auditions, and came over and introduced himself. Told me I was talented. Is it any surprise we are still friends? Feed my ego, and you are mine.

Over the year, we became quite good friends, and then summer came. He brought a guy who he had been friends with into our summer productions that year. He thought me and his other friend would hit it off. We did. I had them over to my house often. Then his friend fucked my girlfriend.

That turned out to be a tough summer. All of us still had to do two shows together, and the two of them, the guy and my girl, decided to stay together. Torture for me. My friend * knew it, and somehow that made me all the closer to him. His guilt, and my pain bonded.

The end of that summer, with three weeks before the second year, he took me on a three week drive across the Western half of the country.

Two other guys came along, one we left in Utah to be with his gal.

It was one of my best vacations. We did much drugs, and drove to landmarks, and laughed our asses off.

We took turns driving, and I remember once while I drove, he leaned over to me. You see, I would do A LOT of thinking about my situation while behind the wheel. I would inevitably furrow my brow, as my thoughts were disturbing. He leaned over to me and smoothed out my forehead with his finger. That simple act resonated with me for years. I still sometimes smooth out my own brow.

The next year was a very creative boon time for me. He was right there alongside, coaching and mentoring me.

After college, I visited him four times, along with other friends over the next two years. Then one summer, he came up to Chicago and directed me in a show.

The role I played was a gay man. * was just coming out huge at the time, and he wanted to make my character real, not stereo type. So, did I. So, we went to gay bars, and I studied, and he kept me "safe".

He wanted me to learn, but knew I would be a bit uncomfortable in the scene. He never hit on me. We were friends. Other gay friends of mine have hit on me. I guess I have a pouty mouth that they like.

The show went well, and I got a supremely favorable review. He loved that.

Over the course of the next two years, as I did more theatre in Chicago, he would come up and see me. But less and less. Life was taking us down our own paths.

Then I moved to LA.

We pretty much lost contact. I think I have spoken to him once in the past five years.

He heard from a friend that I got divorced, and called me. He said he has been with me when this situation happens, and I go crazy. Thought he should come out here, and be a tonic.

I love him for that. I love him for so much. I can't wait to see him, and to spend the next few days with him.

I won't be writing much over the next few days. I want to indulge myself in his company.

I need to have him smooth out my brow.

Happy Thanksgiving, if I don't talk to you sooner.