Oh shit!! You actually remembered himYep.. that's a perfect description
I must say, he only liked me intermittently. I think he thought I was poking him a bit, and yeeeeeah, people did that quite a bit (some of them named Arliss) ....
Hmmm. You know what I think. I think he thought that, while I was poking him, I was forgetting some of his sundry excellences — which was not quite true, not at all, but his real dance was with a certain kind of style. Sashay for sashay, I was never gonna cut a figure — and Arliss's high style, kissing you with his scorn, was from another league entirely. Which in some discussions just didn't count.
I may be speaking shit. Haha. You know, Every excavation of a memory changes it forever ... so what do I, you, Arliss, the Queen of Siam, Charles III, Barron Trump, Chomsky really know about their own past, Connie? That is the final question my mind shall abrade as I try to maintain intermittent focus with my fading powers.
Longer memories shall endure, and they shall be a comfort. Of a place of outrageous, embarrassing theme that brought together a community of collateral and wide-ranging interests whose connection was wholly through some over-charged foreheads.
Our Holy Fool was, I'm sure you know where this is going ...
Arliss.
I shall never forget one of our near-to-last exchanges:
"Honky, monuMENTAL words there — but when your ass starts to move four times faster than now ... you can start to think about Kissing My Ass."
It wasn't really an exchange. All I could do is sputter impotently.
But inwardly, I thanked Arliss.
And ever since, I've lived in Truth.