Diary Friday

I went out to dinner with my friend Ted last night – and so thought that, in honor of him, I would post the entry from my journal of the night our friendship was born. We had known one another for a couple of months – he was an acting teacher at something called The Actor’s Gym, I was involved there – so I knew of him from that, and had always been drawn to him – but the night I describe below is the night we actually became friends.

Of course it involves Harold and Maude, one of the best movies about friendship in existence.

May 20

Two weeks ago, Ted, J. and I went out. The three of us have been hanging out. The two of them are becoming friends – J. just moved into an apartment right across from Ted – and me and Ted are becoming friends – and me and J. hang out alone – and J. gets a little bit nervous – He gets nervous if he sees me interacting wildly with someone else. Not possessive, but nervous. Let’s just say – he notices. He angsts. And then days go by, and eventually he will mention it, trying to be casual, affecting indifference, “I see you and so-and-so were really hitting it off.” It’s really not as annoying as it sounds. In fact, it’s endearing, because he’s not doing it in a wholly possessive way. That would irritate the shit out of me. I won’t BE possessed. But also – J. is a gossip-hound. He is an absolute gossip-hound. I can’t tell him anything in confidence.

So anyway, me, Ted and J. made plans to go see a double feature at the Music Box – Play it Again, Sam and Harold and Maude. J. had to work late, so Ted and I decided to meet for a drink at this place J. had taken me to Southport Lanes. It’s a wonderful funny comfy bar, with a really good jukebox, pool tables, and a little bowling alley. Welcoming atmosphere. J. and I had gone to a midnight show of Mondo New York, and had had a drink at Southport Lanes beforehand.

I headed over for the bar. I walked. I had a book. There is nothing worse than sitting alone in a bar when you WANT to be alone. People feel compelled to come up to you and invade your space. It was a gorgeous sunset. There was no spring in Chicago. We went straight from winter to 60 degree weather.

There was a Cubs game so the streets were basically an open frat party. Mobbed. Drunken girls propped up against walls. It was insane. People walking around with open beers, lines to get into every bar, a constant parade of people. I got to Southport Lanes, about an hour and a half before Ted and I had planned to meet. I needed to give myself some leisure-time, to drink things in, soak up experiences. You really do have to MAKE time for that.

There was a table by the window. I pumped some $ into the jukebox. I ordered a beer and sat down. Within one minute, I saw Ted walk by the window, carrying his book in his hand. Ha!! We are so similar! He arrived an hour and a half early, to give himself some leisure reading time – and there I am with my book. He saw me, I saw him, we waved.

Then he came in, tripped over the step, and came staggering wildly into the bar. Hysterical! He made such a hilarious entrance. On this particular evening, Ted ended up falling all over the place, throughout the night. “Another graceful Ted moment!” I would say, after he would stumble or trip or stagger about.

We were totally tickling each other’s funny bones. Everything he did was hilarious. And I was making him cry tears of laughter. By the end of the evening, the two of us were in this totally raucous slap-happy mood. J., on the other hand, when we met up with him, was very quiet, pensive, and vaguely irritable.

I think part of it had to do with having just come from work – and he couldn’t segue into another mood – Ted and I were giggling innocently like two lunatics the entire night. As J. watched us and angsted about it. I would look into J.’s eyes and he was light-years away.

Ted and I hung out at the bar, had some beers, and a wonderful talk. I really really like being with this person – on a very pure level. I like to be with him. And I get the same feeling from him. We interest each other. We excite each other. We have so much in common – from books and tapes and movies and actors (Ed: Wow. There’s a time-traveler. Before the era of CDs.) – to outlooks, views on acting, views on life in general. Also, we both arrived at the meeting place an hour and a half earlier to give ourselves good reading time. Ted and I still barely know anything about each other – nothing but the barest details. Our talks are on the level of books, music, acting, not biography. I know quite a bit about him from the movies he likes.

I guess you could say I have a low-key crush on him. But I find it so relaxing to be with him. It’s relaxing in the truest sense of the word. It’s not laid-back or casual. I feel energized when I’m with Ted. Focused. Open. LOVE IT.

Ted and I laughed so hard at Harold and Maude that I HURT the next day. I had never seen it before, and Ted and J. were so excited to show the movie to me. At the part with the general who has only one arm – I started screeching like a banshee. I made a scene. I haven’t laughed that hard, that intensely, in what feels like eons. It wasn’t laughter through the whole movie – at least not Harold and Maude. I pretty much laughed my way through the entirety of Play it Again, Sam – I mean, there were times during Harold and Maude when I was in tears. It was so poignant. I looked over at Ted, next to me, at one point, and his eyes were all wet. But there were also a couple of moments of raucous explosions – I can still remember them – about 3 or 4 moments when I fucking lost my mind.

And I noticed something – I was weeping tears of laughter – just SNORTING – Ted and I were totally in sync – he has a wonderful laugh – and I think that his laughter had as much to do with my laughing as the movie did. I would hear Ted’s laugh, and it would set me off again. It was so FUN. But I noticed that J. – although he was laughing too – at one point, he made a slight suppressing gesture, to “Sh” me. He was laughing, but there was an element of sincerity in that “Sh” moment. I was too out of hand for him.

Jesus. It’s not like I was hollering with laughter through Sophie’s Choice, for God’s sake.

People definitely were turning around to see who was laughing in such an out-of-control way – but it wasn’t a big deal. It’s Harold and Maude!!

The harder Ted and I laughed, the quieter J. became. The next day Ted and I were talking on the phone, and he mentioned how quiet J. seemed, in contrast with our slapstick giggling. Somehow J. responded to our hilarity by going deep into himself. It totally took the color out of J.. I did kind of notice this at the time, but I noticed it through the tears of laughter streaming down my face – and I did not want to calm myself down to ask J. what was the matter. I didn’t feel a smidgeon of need to tone it down a little, just because J. was on another plane.

Anyway – me and Ted’s laughter continued. I have not belly-laughed like that since – maybe since me and Liz’s “blue monkey” exchange at New Years. Harold and Maude ended, we were hanging in the lobby, J. went to the bathroom, and Ted and I were propped up against the wall in exhausted limp poses – but I STILL could not stop laughing. I’d calm down for about 15 seconds, and so would he – we would stand in worn-out silence, teary-eyed, and I would think it was all over. “Okay. It’s stopped now. It’s stopped.” But then a shriek would spontaneously burst from my throat and I’d double over again, which would start him off – we were stumbling and falling and clutching each other and mopping away tears. We were totally making a scene.

It was that damn general with the one arm which kept automatically going into a salute.

I could not get that image out of my mind.

We headed for the car. J. strode along quietly, hands in pockets, head down, as Ted and I staggered along in the middle of the street, roaring with laughter, sometimes stopping, bent over. J. drove me home. I literally LAY DOWN in the back seat, trying to catch my breath, but guffawing randomly. Then there would be silence – and suddenly I would hear Ted burst out laughing again, and that would set me off.

The laughter was an unstoppable force.

It was, I think, the healthiest night I have had since I have been here. That laugh just ROARED out of me – and I felt so GOOD about – I felt so GOOD about this connection I felt with Ted – my new friend – and laughing like that again. The glow of it stayed with me for the next couple of days. So did the stomach-ache.

I loved Ted’s laugh. He is such a wonderful person. There is – somewhere deep inside him – a very acute sadness. Perhaps the sadness in me recognizes the sadness in him. I don’t know. I mean, everyone experiences sadness – but there’s something in his kind of sadness that is very familiar to me. This makes my heart go out to him. And this is why laughing with him like that was so glorious.

Once you have a really good laugh with somebody, you have reached a new level. And – you can’t go back from that level. Even if a friendship on an everyday level doesn’t evolve – I could never think of a person with whom I laughed like that as just an “acquaintance” ever again.

Some people you never reach that level with. You can’t. It’s not there to be reached.

This night – Ted and I propelled ourselves into a wonderful new level.

We laughed well together.

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