Packing for a funeral. Well, not the funeral itself – what could I possibly need?* But I will be up north for a few days. Winging it really.

While waiting for stuff to charge I was reading The Tokyo Montana Express by Richard Brautigan. Here is something he called The Tomb of the Unknown Friend:

I saw somebody on the street yesterday that I almost knew very well. It was a man with a kind and interesting face. Too bad we had never met before. We might have been very close friends if only we had met . When I saw him I almost felt like stopping and suggesting that we have a drink and talk about old times, mutual friends and acquaintances: whatever happened to so and so? and do you remember the night when we…?

The only thing missing was that we had shared no old times together to talk about because you have to meet somebody before you can do that.

The man walked by me without any recognizing expression. My face wore the same mask, but inside I felt as if I almost knew him. It was really a shame that the only thing that separated us from being good friends was the stupid fact that we had never met.

We both disappeared in opposite directions that swallowed any possibility of friendship.

I’ve been overwhelmed – truly overwhelmed – by the correspondence I’ve had over the past week. I’m glad something in what I wrote helped a few people and am humbled by the response.

I’m still working my way through and replying. Thank you.

* I guess you could crack wise and reply “a black suit”. I don’t own one. I’m winging that too.