my sense of romanticism is way too deep seated to be challenged with something as flaccid as common sense
or even something as elegant as logic
point is, when we get married, everyone is going to have an honest cry rather than a perfunctory one
Thomas: that made me laugh.
me: it's true and you know it
Thomas: no. it's very true, but what if they're crying because they realize we have committed ourself to a lifetime of messy relationships with the same person because we aren't capable of having it any other way.
me: i hadn't thought about them crying in that way
that's not it
Thomas: i don't think it is either, but the prospect scares me.
me: i mean isn't this why we listen to the mountain goats?
i remember, it was march 2002, the first day i heard the mountain goats, on thomas's couch; all hail west texas, fresh off the racks. a song comes on about two guys, who are friends, who are definitely existing in harmony to the exclusion of the world around them. the world, of course, knowing no grace, intrudes. the world says they are fucked up. thomas became one of my best friends because we knew how to shut things out in the same way. we taught others, and spent a hellish year in a massive house, and a lot of us still talk about it like it was the worst time of our lives, but we play the long game, so history has turned it into the best. i've never learned more.
last night i played music on a stage for the first time in a couple of years. thomas and i still play together sometimes. jeff and cyrus, in the song, know that bond. there's no name for it. and there's nothing in it but love, blind love; stupid, blind, bank-account draining, futureless, masochistic, glorious love.