Willie hung out with Mike in Brooklyn tonight. My heart broke a thousand times to think of it, and not to have been there. Thank god we're all at least American, so there's some hope of paths intersecting in the future.
Meanwhile, Smalltown rang me on the way home from the bar tonight. Said he got out there, stepped foot in, took a look around, turned and walked back out. He's decided to join me on the sobriety wagon for a while. Our last little adventure hasn't been setting well in his stomach, either.
It's so weird how fast things change here. Talking to him as he made his way home, I mentioned how last I was out before that night, three months ago, it was a completely different scene. One small pack of other foreigners who we were friendly with, and a few other randoms here and there. Last week, when I stepped into a bar that had been completely dead for months when I last left it, it was overflowing at the brim with foreigners -- more than I've ever seen in one place in our city before. I sniffed the air, as we surveyed the scene: "New arrivals. This time next year, this place will either be back to dead or filled with entirely new faces...."
Revolving doors and stuff. Reminds me of one of my married veteran friends giving me older brother type advice one night on the bus ride home, sensing about me that I might become an old timer like him eventually: "Seems every other week I'm deleting another name from my phone. That's just how shit works here. You'll get used to it eventually."