
I wonder sometimes if words are used so frequently that they lose intensity, worn down like ocean pebbles.
Because of social media, we can now define "Friend" as "someone in a list of contacts created by a social networking website."
Just as recently as November 6, 2024, when I woke at 3am and felt no compunction to slumber, I found myself wondering who my friends were.
I looked at my contacts list on my phone and saw many names. Yet the list felt historical. How many of those people had I called within the past two years? Face it: I don't call anyone, unless I have to. What happened to me? Maybe it was during Covid. I committed to being on Facebook, and then Instagram, and let these engines find my "friends." I made an effort to be sincere, to share often, and to comment on those folk I found interesting, and like-minded. Slowly, I habituated toward accepting that friendship exists mainly online.
My circle of real connections became ones built first on commerce. My clients. Those I shared a studio space with, here at my place. They paid me and I gave them time, my attention, my skills, my affability.
Bandmates and fellows I recorded my music with came next. These were people whose musicality I esteemed. People I paid for the purpose of enhancing my songs. Friending musicians is tricky. You can't not pay professionals, using that attitude of "Well, we're friends." So, what sort of friendship is this?
Over the past two years, neighbors who were "friends" were ageing and realizing that now was the time to sell and leave LA. Retirement, for them, hinged on having a big real estate chunk of change, to be able to not have to work exhausting jobs ever again. But families did not buy these homes. Developers did. And now we have no "borrow a cup of sugar" neighbors. Friendliness is a wave from a driveway, but you wouldn't ask anything of anyone.
What is a friend? I asked myself at 3am. And then , "What sort of job am I doing in being a friend to anyone?"
I had made promises to go to some friend's gig, only to be too whacked by 7pm to head out the door. I had no transportation, and not a lot of money. My guilt surrounded me. I had let this "friend" down. But was I inculcating friendship so that these friends would in turn come to my shows? This friendship game began to feel shallow and unreliable, miles away from friendships I had had at other points in my life.
We know what Los Angeles, this city of dreams and crushed realities, is like. We know that some succeed and others reinvent, and many live in private molehills and caves, with selective groups of people who know anything about them. The anonymity of a city is protective. If you don't look like your online photo, if you feel disconsolate or angry or abandoned or confused, by your own exploits, you might feel you are not the best company.
Socializing in a city that creates events for one's own career advancement seems to limit the idea of what a friendship could be.
For real friendship has nothing to do with "what's in it for me."
Real friendship doesn't have reasons or goals. It is a time in which all of that is forgotten. It is a time in which time disappears. Real friendship is the sharing of stories, jokes, ideas, frustrations and allowing stuff to just happen. Real friendship isn't about control. It can be about pitching in, helping out, hanging out, hating to say goodbye, loving the sound of someone's voice.
At 3am looking online, I thought about my friends. Who are my friends? Who would I like to be better friends with?
Online friendship might be in some ways necessary, but is it fulfilling enough?
It's not a meal. It's kind of an addictive food group, but ultimately is it nourishing or does it leave you endlessly scrolling? Looking for something?
Some have found their friends, and locked in, seeking no one else. Some have friends their own age.
My friends have always been all ages, from 21 to 81. I have wanted to give, to listen, to be a friend. Just because.
Another definition of friend: "One who offers support, improves your quality of life, promotes self-confidence, provides honesty and unconditional love."
Could I venture beyond social media? Could I use my phone again? Could I express love, with no expectation of anything in return? Could I give? Would people believe me? Was this a scary prospect? Yes, but could I go on and on, thinking that social media is about real friendship? Especially in light of the fact that my very presence and contribution is training AI?
I thought not. NO. I must do something. 20025 needs to be different.
To be Continued.
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