...because a friend of mine just told me I was a good friend.
I was on the phone with my friend Chris, who was actually very happy to hear from me because he'd lost my number, and was looking all over for it yesterday. We attempted to get together on two occasions to see a movie (the first was Up, which we've both seen and loved now, and the second was Spirited Away, which he missed), but failed to get anything going. Both we had a great conversation.
With Chris, the conversations are highly non-linear and tangential, so the conversation went from Up, to our surprise at the good reception of The Hangover (which neither of us has seen), to killing Spielberg for remaking Oldboy, to, "TCM is having a semi-Kubrick and Fellini marathon soon," to why he still hasn't gotten passed part one of The Decalogue, to how it compares to Grave of the Fireflies and Schindler's List, and finally, when can we hang out again?
It was his attempt to describe his reaction to The Decalogue that held the most significance to our phone call. He couldn't describe it at all. He tried and failed, trying hard to find words for a feeling he couldn't describe. It was very eerie listening to him do this, because it made me want to see the film that much more. This film really changed his view on life like none before it. He couldn't describe it, so I must experience (one day) for myself.
And for listening to his attempt to find those non-existent words, he said I was a good friend. Apparently, not many of his other friends would tolerate his ramblings. That made me feel good. I must be on the right track...