If you're gonna blog, how could you debate with yourself about whether or not to write about the loss of one of the best friends you've ever had? But that's what I found myself doing. I guess I was thinking that it would be better to wait until I had digested this a little more, since it was only last night that I found out of his death. For years we were white on rice enough for many people to assume that we were brothers or at least cousins. And while I anticipate the concentrated weirdness that's likely to ensue from those trying to untangle the conundrum they've created by making assumptions instead of asking questions, I would be aggravating my own personal drama if I failed to offer my condolences to his mother and sister.

I guess anyone who's lost someone who was close has experienced the regret of not having said this or that. Well over the 31 years that we knew each other, I think we said quite a bit to each other. And although I have this feeling that we were a few thousand conversations in arrears, I'm happy to have had those that we did have. It's rare when you meet a person with whom no topic of conversation is off limits. It's a shame that we allowed life to slowly seep in to separate us. It happens all the time though. Mounting responsibilities, Time restraints. Finances, competing priorities cause us to distance ourselves from unique situations that have nurtured our expressiveness, imagination, and humanity. Because we voluntarily choose bricks and stones over love and spirituality, we miss invaluable experiences and insights that causes material things to pale in comparison. More often than not we're not very fond of the path to those things we want to accumulate and once we've reached the pinnacle and experience the accompanying anticlimactic fizzle, depression often follows as we realize that those things are not satisfying.