“Was it in New York?”
“No, I think it was in the Punchline days.”
“Hmm, no wait maybe it was when Sixer was signed to TKO.”
“Wasn’t it that night at Accapella?”

We never really figured out how it was we met, but it didn’t matter. When you and I ran into each other upon returning back to Richmond, the familiarity of you was long gone. I honestly was trying to forget that time in my life, and I forgot you with it. It wasn’t for any other reason except memories blur when you are trying to build another life. I studied your face and the times rushed back. You were the proverbial hot mess back then, an extreme individual, the crank it to 11 type. I knew many people like this growing up so there was no shock there, but you seemed different this time. I noticed you were more handsome than I remembered, with almost superhero-like features, chiseled jaw, wide smile, as though you should don a cape and say things in an octave lower than normal. You seemed like you were what the kids say now, “adulting”. One thing is for sure, you and I were never at a loss for words when engaging in conversation.

My memory of sitting in your sun soaked kitchen while you made coffee, you were spouting off about all the repairs you were going to make to the house, still remains fresh. You had just given me a tour of your new digs detailing the choice of artwork and decor. You were proud of your purchase, but it also came with a profuse apology for not using me as your realtor to buy it. I assured you it was ok. I had mentioned how I myself was looking to buy a home in the neighborhood, and how I randomly saw your sister and uncle at the very house I wanted to buy. I was complimenting you on your dining set, so retro. I think it was an aunt or a grandmother who gifted it to you. I was there to the get the mics you had borrowed from me, like five years ago! This would not be some simple exchange and I should have known better, but then again, didn’t I? I knew what would come out of this. Epic conversations were our modus operandi.

An hour and half had passed, the copious amounts of coffee drank were accompanied only by ranting, debating, and validating our viewpoints, often controversial in nature, but most always in agreement. There it was. We’d stop one subject and begin another as though we were making moves on a chess board, each more thought provoking than the other. You were one of the very few people I never had to filter myself with, and vice versa. You were intelligent and well spoken, but what I also loved about our back-and-forths was when we had our “back in the day” gabs. We use to compare and contrast what we did back then to what others were doing now. Seems pointless as I write it, but I think it’s one of those things I have with former high school and college friends, it just felt meaningful, impactful, nostalgic. Thankfully, we were smarter than we were then, we had grown exponentially. in our words and our thoughts.

You had a lot to say and I always felt that came with passionate rhetoric. Some people saw you as a loudmouth, but I saw it as someone who wanted people to engage, not just blindly poke at a subject that was semi-thought out. I think you believed in the truth of things and weren’t afraid to point that out. You were an observer of the world and could talk about a myriad of subjects, although ours favored relationships. We loved to pick apart the ways of men and women and that day was no different. I didn’t know that would be the last time I’d see you. We texted since that visit, plans were broken, protests were rampant, we bitched — a lot, but we always stayed in touch.

When my phone rings, I tend to screen my calls. It’s nothing personal, I just don’t like disruption and I prefer the intimacy of physical one on ones (that sounds way sexier than I thought). You used to call me during the day and I’d see your name across the screen “House of Payne”. Yeah, I nickname people on my contact list. I’d always be driving and so would you, so while we’d be talking to each other, we’d also be describing things we’d see. It was never awkward on the phone, but it usually came with a call for action like a meet up or whether I was going to some show or a question about some point of interest going on in the city.

I will miss our long winded bitch sessions. I will miss your candor. I will miss the humble apologies for going overboard and the buttons pushed. I will miss the memories of our times in RVA from shows to art to hanging out in our old haunts on Grace Street, but I will also miss our exchange of our New York experiences and how that shaped our RVA returns. Our tantric conversations will live on in the cherished memories I have of you. Most of all I will remember the support and friendship we had. Yes, you will be missed, but for now I can only imagine you debating with God and the Devil, giving them new perspectives. You loved your friends, with honesty and curiosity and I think we all appreciated the spotlight you gave us. I hope the demons have finally been concussed and you are finally at peace.