That is something I should definitely start on tonight or in a couple weeks.

It's confusing how with some people you have to work so hard to stay in touch, constantly forcing plans and getting together for coffee and dinners and emailing and always it's the same, what's going on with you, how are things now, what's new, and you're just collecting these facts and filing them away, why, for what? Because you're Friends. They meant something to you once and they mean something to you now, that's what Friends are, they are the people you like to keep in touch with. But it's work, and it starts to smack of emptiness and irk when you realize that the thing you have in common is that you keep in touch. Keep in touch!

And then there are people like you. I couldn't stamp you out of my life if I tried, but I would never try, because that would be like trying to stamp my seventh grade math teacher out of my life: I just don't care. I don't mean that harshly. You don't care about me either. We're not supposed to care. We are pleasant to each other, I'd never dodge you on the street, but we don't click that well, I think you're pretty funny, you think I'm doing ok, that's it. But you're still here.

I wander into T's living room during my first semester at Berkeley. You're on the couch bent over a text book, looking like you just woke up in pajama pants and a white shirt. This is my neighbor from across the hall, she says, and you look up and you smile. Nice eyes, I think you're cute but I think everybody's cute. You sound really stuffed up, do you have a cold? You sort of have a cold. You're majoring in physics. I'm impressed, ok?

I slouch down low in my creaky chair in Wheeler Hall, and you slouch down next to me. No I'm not in this class, just auditing. How are you liking it? You're failing. What's your major now? You're majoring in journalism. I wasn't actually aware that journalism was offered at an undergrad major at Berkeley. You tell me it's kind of complicated and I start taking notes.

You burst into the party and see me right away, it's just a coincidence that I'm right near the door when you come in. You stagger up to me and I see that you're on the far side of drunk, and you pull me hard towards you and try to kiss me on the lips. I jerk my head to the side and you get my neck. Ok ok ok I say, you're fine, just sit down. I get you a glass of water and then I get distracted, I don't see you any more that night.

Sitting out on the street with our sushi and sake and you're being funny, damn funny, and it might concern me that the only thing I find funny anymore is a fellow burnt out case. Congratulations, I say, what was your degree in the end? Biology, you say, and I laugh, well done you. I encourage you to get a job at Bakesale Betty's, but that's just because it's what I want to do. You try to make a plan for all of us to hang out again, but T is reluctant to commit, she's got a busy month. Ok, we'll work it out later. See you around, probably.