Ah, it feels good to cry today. I’m actually crying for my friends and not for me as much. I’m well rested, fully recovered from amateur weekend. (Free drinks for cute redheads, even at 46!) (Hangovers are harsher, though, lo, these many decades on.)
All week, people in Facelandia have been posting for Kenaram, and I haven’t wanted to. Writing about it yesterday, here, felt anonymous. I have two readers – you know who you are. Well, three, if you count me. This is my journal. Welcome to my indulgence.
Something about joining the mourning on Facebook made it real. Oh my god, I miss them! I am glad they’re together, I truly am. I’m really sad for me. They were good friends. They were so fun, obnoxious, and loving. They were up for anything!
They both chased me like monkeys. I don’t know why that’s a thing of mine, but ooh ooh! I never laughed so hard as I did when Jeff’s rejoinder was a gorilla! I’d asked people to monkey around with me, and they all thought I was crazy or trying to make fools of them. No, fool, I’m crazy and I want to make a fool of me! Play with me!
My monkey is a long-armed girlchild. Jeffrey was a skinny, hairy MAN monkey.
When I told Kenaram the story, his own male monkey found voice and off we went, screaming and laughing through the yard. I loved those dumb boys!
(One year at Burning Man, this pack of monkeys came chanting down my street, and off I went! I couldn’t believe it! Turns out, there’s an entire Monkey Camp, and they’re serious, like kirtan! They chant every day at sundown or some such, then party and screech across the playa all night long. There are others like me!) (Another time at band camp, I’d just finished telling my Santa trauma story. [5 years old, screaming at my mother in the parking lot of KMart, “Just tell me the truth!” “Okay! Okay! Santa’s not real!” And with that, my broke, single mother’s Christmas died. I murdered St. Nick.] Just then, a pack of Santas came ho-ing down my street. I ran out to the road, “What’s happening? Why are you here?” I was freaked out sincerely, and surrounded. It’s very disturbing when dozens of dusty Santas ho ho ho you to the ground. I didn’t run off with their circus. I sat down in a new Santa trauma all my own, haha! er, hoho.)
I do feel like I’m losing Jeffrey again. There’s guilt in that, because Kenaram deserves my attention, too, on his own bizarre and glorious self, but they were and are a package. I still had Jeff while Kenaram was here. It’s like Penny holding Cricket for me.
“I’m glad you’re together. I imagine Jeffrey getting away with things now, because Kenaram doesn’t bother hiding his crimes. It’s quiet here without you. I like rowdy people who feed me, and you Jones boys are terrifically naughty. Please put hairnets on your chests and elsewhere while cooking naked, though perhaps no hair on the head or body is lost in heaven. Thank you for loving and forgiving me. I miss you both.”