The friends that last aren’t always the ones you instantly love.
brought to these relationships than on what their lost friends gave them. But you can see why they were loved, are loved still. For Hsu, it’s his willingness to chronicle and analyze, to tell the stories of his friendships. That’s a gift he’s given his friends long before the publication of this book; it’s no accident that Hsu’s group of friends chose him to deliver the eulogy, constructed collectively, at Ken’s funeral.
Words on a screen, a voice over a phone, a face across a table, a hand on my shoulder—they know me, in part because they’ve seen me at myfriends for? These companions who have accompanied me through life, sometimes crammed close together in horrible apartments, sometimes far away for years and years. Words on a screen, a voice over a phone, a face across a table, a hand on my shoulder—they know me, in part because they’ve seen me at my worst.