Dots & Dashes

I had a friend in high school who I never saw again.  I know that’s not exactly anything new, but that’s not the point.  We became friends because well, in Flushing the punks and metalheads and goth kids all hung out together.  Except the Mexican metalhead guys in Cannibal Corpse shirts, they didn’t really associate with us much for the most part.  And when I say “punks”, I meant me and my friend Peter C. who also listened to Kid Rock,jazz, and lots of Henry Rollins.  So mostly it was a lot of pre-Hot Topic boring goth kids and metalheads who listened to Korn and Godsmack or whatever.  Don’t judge, a punk takes company where he can get it.  All I know is that UFO pants always bring nostalgia on big-time whenever I see them.

I don’t even remember how we became friends, except that we had mutual friends and ended up in a few classes together.  Her name was Chrissy, and she was a six-and-a-half feet tall black girl in black, purple, and metal studs and spikes, with an obsession with Orgy and Johnny The Homicidal Maniac.  No one fucked with her, and she had a fearsome fucking persona she unleashed on the fat 14-year old Korean kids who screamed “FAGGOT” at each other while playing Half-Life at the gaming den we’d occasionally go to.  She also called me Ken Doll because she couldn’t picture me as a sexually active person (and hence had no genitalia), and was perpetually curious as to the state of my dating and sexual status.  She swiped my Walkman one day and after listening to whatever I was listening to (probably Bad Religion or Pennywise or the Suicide Machines) said she completely understood why I was such a spastically fast-talking and fast-thinking person.

I felt bad I didn’t get to go to her wedding to a dude named Peter who was the love of her life or whatever, and genuinely missed her when she went away to the Air Force.  She came around once after that and that was it, as far as I was concerned.  I heard she had a kid, and I heard got divorced.  I’ve searched for her online through straight search engine searches, Myspace, and Facebook, and no one who I still talk to from high school really knows what happened to her beyond those rumors.  It’s sad, because the more I think about it the more I realize she was probably one of my closest friends.  We didn’t really hang out much outside of school beyond one time when I met her siblings (who were really weird and so not like her at all it was surreal) and a few parties with a larger group.  I have a few pictures of us hanging out on the curb after school (very Oi, n’est pas?).  She had a locket with, I shit you not, a picture of the bassist from Orgy in it and was the only person I’ve ever seen successfully smoke in the rain.  No lie.

The saddest thing about this whole thing is that she’s probably the only person left who I’d really really want to get back in touch with from those days.  Peter C and I talk on occasion and I see Tim around from time to time (the both of them still live in Flushing and Tim and I used to work at the same place together a few years ago), I don’t really care that much for anyone else.  I know that sounds weird but it’s just true.  It’s not malicious either because a lot of them were at the time, dear to me.

Maybe I’m just romanticizing my younger days (and I know the hilarity and irony of saying that at 25), and in fact she was a total fucking bitch to me and I never really realized it out of some sort of sick connection to anyone willing to show even fragments, scraps of friendship at me.  I’d like to think though that’s not true, that my memory is not fucking with me and that we were friends.  I know it, deep down.  For all the good it’s done to me, cut off now.  My one real regret in life?  Losing touch with her.  I’ve regretted almost nothing I’ve ever done (barring a few questionable choices in style and food), but in terms of big things?  That’s it.

There really isn’t any point to this other than the fact that I was thinking about her and those days for a second today.  I’ve resolved to try and better document trains of thought, because hey if I don’t, then who will?

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About Costa

Writer. College professor.
This entry was posted in best friends, blogging, childhood memories, nyc, random. Bookmark the permalink.

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