King of Xanga / On Friendship

There is a girl who strives to be “King of Xanga”. Her name is

Shi. She is young–dare I say cute?–and outspoken and can be very harsh, but she has a virtual imagination that is out of sight–sorry for the old expression. Anyway, I just thought I’d mention her if you haven’t visited her yet. You can decide for yourself if her a:/sexuality has anything to do about her wanting to be “king”. She just cracks me up.



was reading JustBeingV‘s blog which raised a few questions concerning friendship and it got me thinking about my own group of friends. And it occured to me:

I have no friends around me.

One in NY, and maybe 4 in LA and a few of you here on Xanga. But that’s about it. Perhaps I should explain. I have acquaintances. Lots of them. And I interact with them as friends. But then, I am friendly with the bartender at Glory Days. So friendship isn’t based on how you interact. To me, friendship is defined by honesty, openness and trust… maybe reliability. A friend is:

  • someone to whom you can tell your deepest thoughts or secrets without fear of being judged.
  • someone you can trust to keep these thoughts or secrets private.
  • someone who believes you and believes in you.
  • someone who is equally honest and open with you.
  • someone you can turn to when you are in trouble or are in pain.

These sound pretty straight forward, but I must admit that I did not know–or at least practice–these tenets of friendship when I was young. I was not a very good friend. Just a selfish sorta sod.

Back in high school, I was pretty much a nobody. Really. There were those who were really popular–i.e. attractive or athletic–and then there were the brains, and the comedians, and the “best friends” of the popular ones. And then those who were none of the above, like me.

Still, like anyone else, I wanted to be somebody. So I tried my hand at music, as pathetic as my abilities were. I do believe that I had a little talent for it–after all, most of the music I can play is self-taught, I can sing on key, and I can grasp the rhythm of most music. Just a little talent, maybe. In any event, I used to hang out with a guy who enjoyed music as much as I did. Angel played piano and he liked to play drums and we would get together and “jam”. In hindsight, we were pretty lousy–perhaps I should be speaking for myself–but at 16 in the early 70s, we were just having a good time.

One day, he told me about a girl he had met, a really cute girl. DKLA was in my grade–I was a year older than Angel–and she went to a local public school. She was, apparently, very popular and the target of many guys. Angel wanted to get to know her batter, and eventually go steady with her. He asked me if I would accompany them shopping or something, so he could introduce her to me to get my input. And I said okay.

Sadly, the details of that day are pretty much blurred. We met somewhere after school and DKLA brought her friend as well. I was pretty naive back then, I wasn’t sure what was going on–maybe she brought her to set her up with me. She finished her business–I forget waht it was–and we got on the bus–I had to get to work by 5. On the bus, we sat separately, boys in front and girls in back, like the nerds we were. DKLA was whspering and giggling with her friend, with Angel turning around on the seat to join them. He laughed with them.

“What are you girls whispering about?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, but started giggling again after locking eyes with her friend as if recalling a shared secret.

Angel looked very happy, but I was bored. DKLA was attractive, to be sure, but she was as tall as I was and she looked way out of my league. Her friend was also cute–she was a half. But the day was Angel’s and I just tried to be polite. So as the three giggled, I just looked out the window, admiring the Christmas decorations on the streets of downtown LA in late November.

“What are you thinking about, O-man?” DKLA asked me.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, trying to imitate their voices. This got them giggling again, as I smiled wanly.

The bus reached the corner of 1st and San Pedro and I got off, waving at them. DKLA yelled something at me, but I just nodded in mock acknowledement, neither hearing nor caring what she had said.

The next day at school, Angel asked me what I thought, and I told him that she was attractive, and I wished him luck in his attempts to snag this girl. A few days later, when I had completely forgotten about her, DKLA strolled into the confection shop where I worked….

Cont’d tomorrow…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s