Saturday, November 21, 2009

Janson Janson

This man...

is my best friend.  We have been joined-at-the-hip best friends since 1996.  We have been to hell and back together.  Repeatedly.  At different times over the past thirteen years we have been many things to each other.  Best friends, lovers.  Sister, brother.  Guidance counselor.  Heartbreaker.  Caretaker.  Psychiatrist.  Safety net.  He brought me food when I was too broke to buy any myself.  I can’t imagine my life without him. 

We have quite a history.  Lots of stories.  We’ve had some really funny fights.  The best is when we fight via email.  He never wins those fights.  He’s the musician, I’m the writer.  But he tries.  Bless his heart.  Once upon a time we didn’t speak for almost a year.  Worst eleven months I can remember.  Wandering around, missing my right arm…

Janson is the most talented piano player on the planet.  Period.  End of story.  You should go hear him play when you go to New Orleans.

Sometimes I think that Janson is a little unsure about where he stands in my life.  So let me set the record straight.  I love this man.  More than you know, more than he knows.  More than anyone knows.  I’m afraid of what I would do to someone who hurt him.  I’m also afraid that he’s going to die first when we’re old and gray.  Then what the fuck am I going to do?  He stands in the very center of my heart, the deepest part of my soul.  No one else can even come close.  And that’s not going to change.  Ya heard me?

Here we are at Mardi Gras in 2008...

And here we are last week.


  I miss you already, baby.  See you December 10th!

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