To my friend Mike, who I've known since kindergarten, who used to walk home with me from school when you lived on 89th street and I lived on 86th street. And on the way home you would listen to me talk about all the strange dreams I had and you would comment on how my dreams meant that I'm crazy. My little brother once said to me, I always know when you're walking with Mike because he walks like this. Then my brother imitates a shifty slidey walk, ambling side to side, but somehow moving forward at the same time. To me, you're my friend Mike, who I've known since kindergarten, even though I think since college, you've been Michael. At first I thought maybe only Amanda called you Michael and that it was a girlfriend thing. But then one day I called you and you answered the phone, Hello, this is Michael. And I thought, huh, maybe he is Michael now. But no matter, after a while, I went back to calling you Mike because hey, I've known you since kindergarten. Even now, as people who read your columns online know you as mg, I think of that as your online personality and to me, you're still Mike.
It's 2002 but we're early in it, just coming into March, so there's plenty of year left and this year WILL be better than 2001Ö for everyone, for you, for me. My birthday is coming up, not that I think you know, not that I even know yours, but that's not why we're friends, so it hardly even matters. I just know that you were born some time after me, and that's only significant because when I turn 26, rounding the corner on the mid-twenties, you'll still be 25, right in the middle, the uncomfortable middle, at least that's what it's been for me.
I've written this much and I didn't even get to my point yet, usually not my style, but I guess I took a page from your book on this one, which may be only fitting. What I wanted to say was that I read your columns from 2001 and how the year sucked, in every way, almost every day, and I know, it really did suck, didnít it? And then I read your columns from the new year and things were looking up, not that you were doing anything differently, things just started turning out differently and I guess that's how it goes. But now through January and through February and coming into March, it seems to all suck again and I'm right here with you and I think a lot of us are right here with you. But aside from lamenting the job situation, lamenting the love situation, lamenting the state of the world, lamenting the state of your gut, lamenting the future, oh how bleak, lamenting lamentation itself because when all is gone and done, your laugh, your willingness to leave the house, your personal creativity, which is probably the last straw, you're left with lamentation, hanging around, alone at the bar, right 'til the very last call. But aside from it all, I'm your friend Tom, who you've known since kindergarten, who looks forward to reading your columns, who laughs out loud when the writing it pithy, who reads in admiration when the writing is clever, who hits F5 in denial when the writing hasnít changed in 6 hours or more. I'm your friend Tom, who knows that things will turn around, because it's got to, and I've really gotta believe it.
can mg complain a little less about people not posting? sheesh!
by Tom at March 5, 2002 4:53 PM
what a wonderful letter it is, Tom.
by kd at March 6, 2002 1:31 AM