Ode to Jim

Spoiler Alert: Jim and I went to see "Weird Al" Yankovic in concert.

In our lives, we all surround ourselves with people we call friends. It is a rare person, to encounter a friend as good as Jim. Anyone that knows me will instantly know I throw around the phrase "best friend" pretty quickly; in fact, odds are good that at one point I'd of said the same of you. And it's hard not to: putting a definition on the coveted spot of "best friend" is next to impossible. See an earlier entry about Father's Day weekend and a reflection on Wagon and I's friendship, longest running friendship I've had baring only family. So as I let people get close to me I struggle to define what makes who closest to me.

I still don't have an answer, so, multitudes of best friends, sorry.

With all that shit being said, Jim Somerville is indeed one of my best friends. He's the guy tagging along in the back, haphazardly making sure everything is glued together, keeping sentimental roots thick in the past, while blazing new horizons for adventures to come. I think it is the nostalgia Jim has for the hodgepodge of crazy stuff we've gotten into that I tend to enjoy him so much: not many would have as patient and fond memories of Mega Tokyo on his grandmother's computer, waiting out a heat wave or rain shower only to jump into the swimming pool of our unlimited summer fun resource, or that illegal viewing of Kill Bill Jim made possible sneaking the Netflix dvd sleeve into my basement to watch one day after school; of keeping tracks of the numerous bands we discovered over various online cartoon websites (Lodger and Tally Hall, to name a few). And of course. Mopey Fro, the most ill-advised attempt at, well, anything.






Yes, we have lots of good history, but my favorite piece of Jim-cannon I like the most is the circumstance of how he and I met. Somehow, Jim and I both mistakenly joined up with the drama kids in high school and tried out for a play. At one of the first meetings for the ill dubbed "Poland Players," (Giant ***holes would have been more accurate) I saw a large, afro'ed Samoan looking dude wearing none other than a "Weird Al" Yankovic Touring With Scissors shirt picturing Al in his Obi-Wan costume, with shadow dancing on the walls of Mos Espa and tour dates on the back.

I was hard pressed for friends here; I had just transferred over from the Catholic school, and took this as a sign. If this kid liked Weird Al, he would probably like me. I mean, "Running With Scissors" was the first CD I ever bough with my own money, so, why not.

It's entirely possible that the first thing I ever said to Jim was: "Hey, I like your shirt." Knowing what I do now, Jim held back an insult about my trying-too-hard-to-be-cool shirt, and instead, most likely said, "Thanks, you like Al?"

To quote Yankovic himself, "we were inseparable, we did everything together." The school year went on, and I quickly had made myself a good, reliable friend at the high school. Onwards to the summer, I still remember the first time hanging out at Jim's, was actually his Grandma's house, with a pool, a PS2 and a copy of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. This hang-out was mostly filled with the smut of a gangster's rise to the top as shown by Rockstar Games.



I even remember getting yelled at for coming home a few minutes late for lunch, which, and this is the strangest detail, was fried bologna sandwiches.



So, six years later, I am faced with an adult adaptation of our former selves. No, there are no more aimless days spent in the pool, wandering around Poland, but, there is still lots of aimlessness. Grown up aimlessness. I'm glad Jim's stuck around for the ride since we all started changing so much. How do I know I can rely on Jim's constant friendship? The full circle.



That's why this Weird Al concert meant so much to me; not only was it awesome (and an awesome birthday present) but it also showed, that two friends can grow so differently and apart yet still, find themselves celebrating the same traditions from years, literally more than half a decades past.

So what else is to say? The show was awesome, every second of it. Great concert, Al, despite being 51, is a fantastic entertainer, and you can bet I was singing every single word (of the old stuff bawww snobbery.).



Stay good friends.