I didn’t plan to type – or respond – this fast when first logging in. I simply missed my friends. Like I usually do after the morning’s first cigarette or evening’s last beer. A lost cousin. My friend I hold closely even though I’ve never met. Boys I convinced in Budapest that I knew the way around not buying a subway ticket and then, upon being caught, paid their fine in some strange sense of self-preservation and pride. The longer I stay out the more time I spend on Facebook. Oh, how travel makes me such a great friend. The postcards. The SMS’s. Where was this guy back a few months ago when his online activity usually only involved asking someone out – or discontinuing said process?

I miss my friends – they’re all I can think about. I listen to a bad cover of U2 and I want to roll my eyes about it with Tim. My occasional freaking out about money (or lack thereof) makes me laugh out loud about ‘Filipino Scott‘*. I read ‘Less Than Zero’ [in less than 3 hours, mind you] and all I want is to find the ingredients for a ‘Champagne Supernova’ to do with Beech and co. in Jersey. Is this what is supposed to happen? Me ignoring the culture I pay good money to be around and them simply provide a canvas for my own recollect?

Where is this big ‘ole heart when I’m there? I consult good friends/ex lover’s on new pregnancy’s with honest advice. I write more postcards then I ever have. I want to trade this beer here in for one with them – even halving it if money only permits it. But am unsure if this guy showed his Face that often when they were around.

Aric is a much better friend when there’s not the chance of them calling to hang out, I wrote on my own social networking status, as if admitting it excluded me from the realization that that was a pretty fucked up thing to feel.

I don’t know.

I’m such a good pal when away. I’m such a thoughtful son and attentive brother – the fact that the miles seem to be the catalyst is the thing that scares me.

And – there – just like that. The little timer that I’ve grown to love 5+ months on the road reminds me that I’m nearing an hour online. An hour. Longer than I spent up taking in the Himalayas today. 60 minutes to make sure friends were asking about me and finding cracks in the buddy cement where I could ask about them.

An hour.

_

*Scott, on my 31st birthday in the Philippines, waited until everyone in the bar had bought me and drink and were following the 2 of us to the next bar. He stopped on a bridge overlooking a small dirty canal, quietly took off his watch, out his wallet, away with his clothes and jumped in – ‘Happy Birthday, Neighbor’ barely being audible over the cold splashes. He swam a bit, his white ass looking like a reflection of the SE Asian stars above, calmly got out, put on his clothes and walked into the next bar. The next morning, while we were on a seizure of a bus ride to the airport, turned to me and said ‘I think I lost my wallet last night’. ‘Oh shit’ I yelled back, my hangover outweighing the remembrance that I had it. ‘How much money did you have?’. ‘I think about 3000rmb ($500usd)’ he laughed, never once freaking out. I kept, and will keep, that un-phased look about him with me forever.