About Truth and Friends

Post 557:

            When I was a youngster, I went through this gnarly phase where the world just didn’t seem built right. Trouble was following me around, haunting my backside. To me, I was the victim. Everyone that I interacted with had it wrong, just like the institutions and authority figures that held sway over me.

            Now, let’s be real. I was a little shit. My only salvation came in the form of friends. Real friends. The kind of friends that tell you to adjust course or to hold steady.

            Real friends may be encouraging. That’s good. It’s also good when they flick you on the ear and tell you the reason the entire world is pitted against you is you.     

            Artists need friends like everyone else, and this is weird, because it’s hard to take criticism about something creative. Criticism in general blows, in any form. But maybe it’s so hard because we’re not humble enough to begin with.

            I’m not. Despite the fact that I found a way to navigate childhood, grown-up time hasn’t been a walk in the park. I’ll catch myself acting like a prick or writing terribly or performing disingenuously and I didn’t even realize it was happening.

            How can this be?

            I needed more friends around.

            Adults need people in their circle that care, but who aren’t afraid of offending. It’s a rare thing in this world that we now occupy. Maybe it always was.

            Friends. Be one to others. Get some for yourself. Can’t have too many.

            I won’t leave you hanging. Tip for making new friends: tell them your crap. People love to hear how worthless you are and that you realize it. They’ll tell you their crap.

            Off and running. It works. Years of practice.

            Cheers amigos. See you after.