Weekly Zephyr #113: Special Ghost Friend Math

Somebody who was once your friend is not your friend any more.

A lot of people, a lot of people aren’t your friend any more. I don’t mean to bum you out on my way to the point. I hope many excellent people are still your friends and that if you need some new ones, they’ve already shipped from somewhere and they’ll be arriving shortly.

We, the adults gathered here today writing or reading this newsletter, have lost friends along the way. We did something wrong or somebody else did or nobody did. We became interested in new things that our old friends weren’t interested in, or vice versa. We were annoying or vice versa. I mean, we were annoying, let’s face it, all of us. And vice versa. We neglected and got neglected. Somebody betrayed somebody, even. A small, harmless drift kept going until two boats could not figure out how to contact each other.

Many of these people you lost peaceably, almost like you didn’t even quite lose them at all. They live in a different kingdom now. Nothing else is wrong. If you ran into each other somewhere, that would be a nice surprise. You wouldn’t retire to a soft couch in a private space for a long, cozy talk with them but you would definitely have a drink or a picnic, possibly with more people from the same context.

These are still lost friends, sort of, but they’re not lost lost friends. They’re benevolently fuzzy and faded in the day-to-day for you, but you know that in their own current contexts they’re delighting new people in a Technicolor way, and you’re happy for those people, even pleasantly jealous of them.

Some of these people you lost painfully, or painfully and bewilderingly.

I’m sorry about that. That’s a weird, lingering pain that you tuck into your hip or wherever you keep these things, and then you have a limp from that person, and that’s part of life, unless you’re the person I’ve never heard of yet who has the cure.

Maybe you have one perplexing special old favorite ghost friendship that curdled, someone that shows up in your dreams in too many different ways to know what it all means, but the dreams are potent and have kept happening through the years.

Sometimes your ghost friend is yelling at you at a party at your old house, and she pours peanut sauce on top of your head while you kneel down quietly to demonstrate that you’re willing to take whatever it is she needs to get out, but sometimes she’s holding your hand and you’re speaking brightly to each other at a cafe.

I have one of these special strange ghost friends, and I’m forever doing some kind of math in my head about whether there’s anything to be done about this dead friendship.

I want to do some of this math with you today in case you have a ghost friend and you’re always doing this math, too. Homework is more fun when you do it together, especially homework where you don’t even know if anything good could happen if you turn it in.

THIS IS NOT THE FORMAT OF MATH, I AM NOT A MATHEMATICIAN

1. The problem of elapsed time = e 

2. Did you like them more than they liked you the whole time or vice versa (if it’s vice versa you’re probably not worrying about it) = m

3. Does anyone ever want to hear from someone they’re not friends with any more and have a weird conversation = c

4. Is there a way to know in advance if you’ll regret speaking what’s in your heart = y

5. Do you even know what’s in your heart about it = x 

6. Is it worth looking in there and articulating it for possibly no reason or a bad reason—ie, you’ll get a bad response or no response—or should you just keep limping and not worry about it = w

7. Do you truly want to bother someone who might not for their own perfectly fine reasons want to be bothered = b

8. Is it better to be quiet and, by extension, cooler somehow. Like, no big deal. Dead friendship. We’re adults. = q

9. The person was very special to you, very special indeed =

Okay let’s see:

e + c (my) - bq = x + or - w (VV)

so, uh, that means, hm.

Or:

mVecwxbqja;weifa; u’afaa uweyf’[a; iewhoai

:/

Let me see your paper. What did you get.

When I woke up this morning, the light was a certain excellent springtime way and Facebook showed me a memory of this ghost friend from nine years ago. She’d written something incredibly beautiful—I’d linked to it—and I opened the link and read her piece and remembered why I loved her. I thought for sure that today was going to be the day I cracked open the time barrier and wrote something from my heart.

I thought, whatever happens, I’ll know I did the right thing! breaking the silence and accepting the risk!

This feeling lasted for almost two whole hours. Then came the math. More importantly, something in me says no, not now, something firmer than math.

But

I will share the link with you and I encourage you to read this piece, because beauty is beauty is beauty. We can share and promote the work of people whose relationship to ourselves is complex. I’ve decided this is one adult way of being a ghost friend today.

Bad Sailors, a text for speaking

ANNOUNCEMENT:

I’m setting up paid subscriptions for the Weekly Zephyr. I’ve debated about this with myself forever and I feel good and excited about this choice.

Here’s the crucial thing: 

The paid subscriber’s version will be exactly the same as the free version. The Weekly Zephyr will be the same Weekly Zephyr for everybody. 

I was inspired by the writer A.R. Moxon who does the same thing with his newsletter.

Light bulb! This is possible!

If a person can’t comfortably afford $6 a month, and that person enjoys this newsletter, I do not want to remove any pleasures from that person’s life. It’s tough being in a position where you have to think about whether you can afford a newsletter subscription. 

I could offer scholarships on request but I don’t want the person who would need a scholarship to have to ask. The world is difficult enough. I want everybody to get everything, not just the people with extra cash. That’s the world I want to live in. If this newsletter delivers pleasure to the people, I want all the people to get all the pleasure. 

That said, writing the Weekly Zephyr is work, and it’s work that takes hours a week away from my other work. I feel called to keep going but getting remunerated for this work would strengthen my commitment. I think the Zephyr has value and I hope you do, too. 

If you like the Weekly Zephyr, if you love it, if you can comfortably afford it, and if you want to support the creation of the WZ for everyone, then think about becoming a paid subscriber. If you can afford it with ease and you want to become a founding subscriber at the higher rate of your choice, incredible. Thank you. 

If you just don’t want to pay for this newsletter, that’s completely okay. You can keep it rolling as a free subscriber and you’ll get the whole thing anyway. I do encourage you to share it if you like it. And if you do want to be a paid subscriber but you can’t do it comfortably, don’t! Get it for free with my love! 

and finally

HERE IS THE SPACE IN THE NEWSLETTER WHERE WE TAKE A MOMENT AND CELEBRATE THE CONFIRMATION OF JUSTICE KETANJI BROWN JACKSON TO THE UNITED STATES SUPREME COURT

today is a beautiful day, this morning’s light was right