The Paradox of Friends and Enemies

Lefty he can’t sing the blues
all night long like he used to
The dust that Pancho bit down south
ended up in Lefty’s mouth

The day they laid poor Pancho low,
Lefty split for Ohio
Where he got the bread to go,
ain’t nobody knows…

Bid my buddies good day and watched them amble down the porch stairs…burnt my tongue a bit on my coffee, and squinted against the thick afternoon sunshine. There they go. I had been wanting them to leave ever since they stopped by and woke me from my nap, but as I am enslaved to my good manners and amicable nature, I was forced to remain cordial. They were bearing gifts, you see, which is all that really saved them from being ignored or simply yelled at…as a gift always deserves at least a moment’s recognition, if the intentions of it are earnest. But still, I am never fond of being forced to do things that my id doesn’t approve of…

At that moment in the afternoon sound was the only sense that affected me with clarity; my eyes still asleep, my body still imprinted with sheets; my coffee hot, but flavorless. All around me the afternoon hissed, and I sat hypnotized by it for a while…watching this country-wide cloud of fear and uncertainty settle comfortably over the land like dew; pulling an uncanny stillness down into the soil. Calm. Nurturing. Bustling with potential. I could hear my two idiot buddies kicking gravel as they strolled back to wherever they came from, and considered them a while– all of my friends, in fact, and how little it seems I actually enjoy their company. Waltzed back inside and committed myself to waking up…turning my radio on for background noise as I began my stretching and exercising routine.

Finished, shaved, and showered. Checked my email and found another well written letter from my western nemesis, as it slowly and methodically deconstructed my argument and attempted to disprove it…but not without a few mistakes, which I excitedly leaped upon and exploited, slowly and methodically, in my response to him. Strange that I should achieve so much excitement and elation from someone that I find myself at bitter odds with, while achieving nothing but boredom and claustrophobia from those of whom I am not. This may be one of the most transparent examples of paradox theory available to us, thanks in part to Hollywood. One need only look as far as just about any action movie to know that arch rivals are often closer and more alike than they are with their cronies or friends.

Compare the impact of losing an enemy, to losing a friend…but make a point to properly identify enemy. Someone who wrongs you that you simply resent and snip out of your life isn’t an enemy– an enemy is someone whom you are constantly forced to engage, and compete with, whether it be through basic forced proximity, or simple choice to actively participate. It’s true that most stories of conflict end with one rival finally crushing the other, and during the moment of victorious elation the credits begin to roll…but there are some stories which take a wider look at the situation, and like the moments in such stories where the bond between the rivals is confessed and made obvious, I am weakened with sympathy when the victor discovers that without his rival, his life has very little meaning left..

The poets tell how Pancho fell
while Lefty’s living in cheap motels
The desert’s quiet, Cleveland’s cold
and so the story ends, we’re told..

Pancho needs your prayers it’s true
but save a few for Lefty too,
he only did what he had to do
and now, he’s growing old…