An Ode to Friends

by Griffin O'Hara

“No one told you life was going to be this way.”My eyes roll back into my head, endorphins flood the appropriate receptacles, life itself is nudged back another 22 minutes, things become okay.

CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAP. Fuck I missed it,  I’ll get it next time, I tell myself. The mystery of life is contained in the timing of the clap, I am sure of it. What is the sound of one hand clapping? This. The sound of a tree falling in the forest? This, also.

“Your job’s a joke, you’re broke, your love life’s D.O.A.” Yes. Yes. Yes. All true. Whisper to me more of your sweet nothings, and tell me it’s going to be alright and cradle my head in your arms.

“It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear, it’s like it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your year” Second gear. Sputtering up a long hillside, merging to the right, waving traffic past. Grinning in apology. This engine doesn’t quite cut it. Well, this is a long-ass hill, isn’t it?

“I’ll be there for you. When the rain starts to pour” Will you? Will you really? Because that would be okay, I wouldn’t mind it, with Friends like you. Rachel, Monica, Phoebe, the three titans. Joey, Chandler, and Ross, no less elemental, no less substantial. Some version of the furies, or something out of Greek myth—figures iconic and ever-lasting. Will future generations worship at your feet? They will, I say. Allow me to substitute my time in front of the television for the sacrificial incense.

“I’ll be there for you. Just like I’ve been there before.” So you will. The sofa. The fountain. Dancing. Questionable 90’s haircuts, and gratuitous amounts of hair product. Your televised embrace like sinking into a warm bath.

“Just like you’re there for me too.” I am! For you redeem me. I am. I am a good and holy person, baptized by the wash of light over my corneas. Please, please, let the show begin, your humble audience awaits.

I just can never understand when the fucking clapping happens.