OPEN LETTER #2

Dear Jet,

We haven't written each other for a long time and the interrupted traffic of correspondence made me realize, somehow, for one shining moment, how silence can be a tad boring. I may not be able to fully explain this to the accidental reader stumbling upon this openness for the first time but I might as well announce how your letters (or blog comments, or emails) magically carry the magnetic kernels of your speech - or how your written words make your readers listeners at the same time. And so as I was reeling at this silence I decided to make the rounds, and the rounds opted to deliver some heartbreaking news to me.

I don't know what to say. I feel a little insignificant to the quietude of my surroundings that I hesitated to deliver a preponderance of q's even to the most responsible of responder, what gives? where is she? anything wrong?

Silence has a way of telling.

I am sorry for the loss, even if by its immeasure my sorrow falters. Yet I am armed by the words of Simone Weil which, in our sometimes sullen ways of remembering the things of the past, was wise to advise: Distance is the soul of beauty.

Always keep that faith, my friend. And that laughter, that vibrant beauty of your being. Big bro is up on his wings and, like a good wine, always ready to liberate us from the burdens of the past.

Sincerely,
c
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Double dose: I looked at my old emails and I saw this one I sent you years ago. Maybe, just maybe, this is not part of the burdensome past, but I thought you may want to read this a second time...

dear jet,

once upon a time i read a story entitled a general in the library,
written by the italian fabulist italo calvino. reading that story
about a general and his men whose eyes and minds were awakened by the
books they read was probably comparable to myself dreaming about
myself dreaming. no, i am not a general, though i belong for the most part of my life to the general public.

so the story goes this way: there was this nation called panduria
that was militarized, with most of the country's budget going to
military spending. since they were the military, it follows that they were paranoid (which military is not?), so paranoid in fact that one time they suspected that there were books published that say something terribly bad against them. and so they staked out in the library, with their full regiment as if going to war, and they pored over the books day in and day out.

these miliray men were a bunch of idiots (which military men are not?) and one of them started screaming while reading the historical Punic Wars and finding some bad things said about the Romans (the Pandurians considered themselved decsendants of Romans). the idiot started screaming 'this is outrageous! this must be reported at once!
but the more they read, the less idiot they become, and one time in
their stakeout they were craving to go out of the library and go back
to the real world, armed now with fresh eyes and minds to face
reality. in their words, they were ready to face life again!

i am a pandurian in reverse. from the outside world, i go into the
world of books because the reality of life has bored me to death.
everywhere i go, everytime i look, all i see are the same typical
things that a typical man typically do. but in the world of books,
the general rule is that nothing is typical, it is not what it seems
to be.

friendship, in a way, is like literature, and the strongest
resemblance is that to both you do not say 'i've had enough'. friends are like books: they tell you stories with twists, they disappoint you with their plot, they make you cry, they scare you out of your wits, they provide you with enough tension, they enlighten you - but always in the end, they make you think.

one good thing about friendship is that you find it in a space that
cannot be fully qualified or described. it is somewhere between an
acquaintance and a lover that is in a level all its own, sometimes
rising above the rest because - I now speak for myself - there is no
such thing as selfishness in friendship. after all, can you find
anything more selfless than in making somebody think? think about it.
(hah, did i trap you there?)

so there. rise above the crowd, you miss jolly ole jet. i'll be
blatant. you are my friend because you always make me think.

love and prayers,
c