To tkhoveringhead

An honor and a privilege has drawn to a close. Two weeks of anxious attempts to sit and soak expectedly fell short of two years of growth and unexpectedly ended in a pile of friends, a bucket of water, and a very literal puff of smoke. No Davis’, personal balls, cure for diabetes, or regrets. And here I am, momentarily in your wake, to reflect with questionable adequacy on your parchment, with an art you showed me could do this justice.

You entered a group of friends that I thought lacked no stimulus and could not be improved. This notion was shattered almost instantaneously as our conversations bypassed formality, precursor, and context and went right for the throat. We had some disagreement then; I don’t remember its exact nature, but it was deep and encompassing and only through the concerted effort of weeks did we finally beat it back to one’s and zero’s. Our methodology was the same, we sought truth in logic and when contradictions arose on either side we played by the rules. These are among the best and most productive dialogues I have ever shared. I had never before picked a brain so quickly and thoroughly and, for what it’s worth, I have not since found another so worth picking.

I, in those times, was dealing with a scattered mess of ideas that could not find purchase. I had a love and passion for the sciences, technology, and their extensive applications. I had begun to understand the politics such application require, and some facets of humanities current failures. I had long since shaken god, but only had hints of what I now consider a sound atheist stance. And in the depths of my cognizance, I was checking the last doors and windows out of this ultimately pointless existence and finding them all locked in reason. But in our current state, these ideas are fanatical and hopelessly uncomfortable. So this turmoil brewed without outlet and without confirmation, leaving me to wonder what all else had found but I had missed. I checked and rechecked: all locked.

You were the first to pose those same grave ideas that I had been moving towards. Coming from a different starting point, but exercising objectivity and the same tools on which I had relied, you arrived on a nearly identical solution. For me, this was water into concrete. And moving from that solution, you agreed to walk deeper into those catacombs intent on finding the true purpose of this life, to pull back all facades and bare its ugly teeth once and for all. What we found was precisely nothing; that all we know is an infinitely complex manifestation of absolutely nothing.

In the following months you and I fought to reconcile this conclusion. This problem innately allows no truly correct solution, yet we quickly identified those that are concretely wrong: those that avoid the question entirely. And later, we had to agree that the true purpose is self-defined, consisting of a choice, a will, and discipline. Needless to say, the conversations I have held with you, the years spent in close quarters, have changed me irrevocably; A thousand pitfalls I am no longer even slightly eligible for. And all this we accomplished with the internet and a dry erase marker, passing a certain baton.

These are the underpinnings that define destinies. These are the fires that sent you west and will send me east soon enough. These are the reasons that you left with my full and proud support; we have said, for the moment, all that needed to be said. But during your time here you did much more than speak. You agreed to live. Between talks we drank, smashed, threw sandwiches down hallways, tried our best at poor decisions, and still woke up bright and early in the morning. Before you came, we were all full of ideas, but always fell just short on motivation. You tipped those scales and the results were unprecedented. Suddenly we were party planners, landscapers, decorators, bartenders and cooks. We enjoyed all those activities that are so much more for the effort they require. A three-story mansion under no one’s jurisdiction threatened to go underused, but now we can only say that we possibly went too far. On calmer nights, lectures and organized study groups proved just how productive leisure time can actually be when surrounded by the right kind of people.

But I won’t reminisce too much. Frankly, I’m glad you’re gone. The only person in memory to throw my work ethic into question, I need you to keep moving forward as much as you need to yourself. There’s a gift in your words. And I don’t speak for friendship or encouragement, but as a conscious human being looking for a guide and a way to grasp those all-important scraps of life that pass and vanish with the ticking of clocks. You alone lock in amber those things which the rest know only as a tingle of nerves, a rush of adrenaline, or the welling of tears. Moreover, I need our conversations to gush like they once did. We’ve been on too level a field for too long, subject to the same experiences. Go and fill your head with fresh and daring ideas, I’ll do the same, and we’ll meet again as doctors to hash things out anew.

I have no fear of loosing touch with you; for my part, we’re beyond that. You’ve talked a big talk, spoken many dreams to me, and believe that I will haunt you if you falter. I expect nothing less from you.

Good luck.