One Hot Bagel

Did you know that it takes fourteen words in Spanish to say the same thing you can say in English in eight? Now, I may not be one to talk about the economy of words but I find this rather amusing. What I also find rather amusing is that my friend Erik broke my friend Greg’s nose today and Greg never once complained about the cartilage pushing up into his brain. Actually, I suppose that’s not amusing at all and that you now think I’m a sick fuck. Oh well.

Today I had fun.

Today I wrote one line paragraphs.

Today Tori, Dan, Erik, Greg, Kerry, Stephanie, and I partook in an impromptu Bradford College reunion that was quite wonderful in many ways. It was just what the doctor ordered and, in fact, was just what my career counselor had ordered a couple of weeks ago when I met with her to discuss my stress regarding the job situation. She said I should go out and have fun with people who know me, with people who I can be myself around.

That’s what I did today and it felt great.

Today was a day spent with old friends. Old good friends. The nice thing about the group of us is that there’s no getting reacquainted. There’s getting caught up, for sure. But there’s no struggling to remember how it works, how the puzzle of our relationships fit together. We fit together. We click. And I suppose we always will.

Erik didn’t really break Greg’s nose, though he might as well have, judging by the guilt Erik was displaying after inflicting the injury, and the number of Kleenex tissues that Greg had to apply to his nose before the bleeding stopped. The whole debacle actually was amusing. I’m not just being a sick fuck there. Tori was bouncing up and down because she was so excited to see everyone and portions of the exhuberance carried over into our boy Erik and caused him to leap into Greg’s arms, and accidentally, into his schnauzer.

We toured campus for a bit, something I’ve not had the courage to do since the college closed, something I don’t think I could ever do by myself. When we were done reminiscing there we trekked over to Bickfords and some of us had breakfast and some of us had lunch. We talked loudly and swore freely and they stopped seating people near us after a while. It was a hoot.

The decision was made to continue our adventures to the south, in Beantown. Kerry had to depart but we made plans to have brunch again on Sunday morning. The remainder of our troop gathered up into the cars, stopped by my apartment, and then parked at the Alewife subway terminal in Somerville, just outside the city.

Much merriment was had and many miles were walked, though not as many as the day Jimmy and I walked Boston a couple of weeks ago. In the end Tori and Dan came back here to crash at our place and I took Erik and Greg back up to their abodes in Haverhill.

I’m not really doing the day justice but journals never do I suppose. I hope that you can ascertain from my language what an affect on me this day has had. So positive was my reaction to seeing everyone again, that I can’t even recall why I started this day in a foul mood. I love these people I have shared adventures with today and I have missed them.

And of course, I can’t say anything bad about them until Monday because I’m gonna see them again tomorrow morning.