1. After a weeklong neglect, I shaved tonight. Absolutely nothing compares to the smoothness you get when the razor has something to grab onto. I rue the thought of getting a job that requires daily shaving. It's just like daily mediocre sex; it'd be worth it to wait for occassional awesome sex. Unless you can have daily awesome sex, which is clearly the superior path if it's available to you.
2. I almost forgot how boyishly handsome I am clean-shaven. It's like finding a lost favorite album in a musty basement box.
3. Kris is gone. This does not please me outright, as do the two prior. What pleases me is, it's totally natural. When I stayed up with him until 4 on his last night in Nebraska, me mentioned that his mother in Plattsmouth mustered little more than a shrug at his 2-year depature to Planet Earth's ghost town.
I don't know how to feel about this. As I am due an imminent departure, the sting of his absence will lessen, as I'll be feeling the shadows fall from everyone I knew in college. This, I think, is not good, as some people deserve to be missed more than others.
The next part of the piece I posted the other day, which I never finished, was to be about how the true test of a friend is not whether they pass certain friendship litmus tests, but whether they're "that kind of person." I can't be sure whether the scales of my jaunt to Wisconsin teeter more toward being that kind of person or wanting to be that kind of person and so doing things to push my personality in that direction. But Kris is definitely that kind of person, for whom serving humanity in French colonial Africa for 27 months appears as utterly natural. If I don't get him around me for a long time, I'd just as soon he were in some far-flung cultural chasm as nearby but with me lacking the gas money to see him. The longer the drought, the greater the excitement at finding that basement record.
Godspeed, bounding saint.