"One night, when we were in our early twenties and still living in Iowa, we went to the campus theater to see a showing of Cocteau's Orpheus. We sat with a group of poets, friends of Lucy's, and together we cheered the scenes in the Poet's Cafe where fistfights broke out over the scribbled drafts of a few new poems. I remember it as being a wonderful night. The movie thrilled us, and we walked home in the bitter cold talking about how brilliant Cocteau had been to make a movie in which the poets were the most important and revered people in society. Lucy said she was in love with Heurtebise, who played the part of Death's driver. She thought it showed a great sensibility on her part to fall for the sidekick, the number-two man, instead of wanting Orpheus for herself. I agreed with her completely about the appeal of Heurtebise, although the sight of Orpheus asleep in the sand, his cheek pressed against a mirror, was one that would stay with me for years.
'You should take Orpheus, then,' she said.
'But I loved Heurtebise, too,' I said, and it was true. I did. And I also didn't want Lucy to feel like she was settling. 'He had a greater soul than Orpheus.'
We were two young women talking about which of the dead French movie stars we would have rather gone on a date with. In short, we were very much alive."
***
Caroline, this reminds me of us. You, being Lucy-esque, taking me to the types of places where people are familiar with Cocteau. Us, being the friends who walk home analyzing a movie (even if it is Stomp the Yard) in the Chicago cold, all the while debating which stars we would want to date or with whom we would be best friends.
Thank you for always being honest with me even in those moments when conciliatory "I agree with you"s would be easier; for improving your story-telling skills since college; for not sugarcoating the effects of an illness; for not wallowing in illness-related pity either; for inspiring me to pursue creative and interesting activities; for sharing too much wine with me and subsequently posting a Wikipedia entry on "pants" on various Facebook pages; for being the best dancer I know; for having the coolest parents imaginable (other than my own:)); for really "getting me."
Your letters are the most eloquent. Your email and Facebook quips, the funniest. Your presence, the most welcomed. Your friendship, the most cherished.
Happy Birthday, CDK.
Yesterday was quite possibly one of the worst in a long, long time - but this has changed everything around. Thank you for that - coming, of course, at just the right time : )
ReplyDeleteWe ARE going to be friends - forever and ever.
See you tomorrow!
xoxo