John was my bestest friend, my dearest. He lived a hard life, he was complicated he worked in fashion but unfortunately he was a bit unfashionable in his looks heavy set, medium height and very pale with long luxurious hair. Not an ounce of muscle , not good for a gay man. He had the most beautiful eyes...very blue but that was it. I enjoyed my friend very much he could make me laugh hard for hours. I can still get giggly thinking about jokes or events that we encountered in our travels together. I miss him in 1999 he was murdered by his faux gay Moroccan lover. He picked up this desperate man in Morocco so eager to get out of poverty that he hooked up with my acutely lonely friend. He (The Moroccan) had a wife and five kids and was looking for exactly this kind of thing; lonely gay American willing to hook up and sponsor him. My friend thought that he had met the love of his life. He was extravagant with his boyfriends he would roll out the glamour with a capital G. The thing is though because my friend was lacking in physical charms compared to the gay ideal; Adonis. John had no confidence conversely he had a tendency to attract dubious people.
Oh I know water seeks it's own level. My friend hated himself thought he was horrible in all ways a gay man is not supposed to be. Yet he was generous, brilliant a razor sharp wit, nothing was missed by John he could identify almost every artifice except in himself. He refused to do "The work" that little bit of self inquiry that can help us back to shore. Oh I wanted my friend to be happy, healthy and loved. I prayed for him. It was not to be.
I did get to spend a lovely four day weekend every minute of those days we were together. It means a lot to me friendship. I covet people who make me laugh and think and see things. It was a big shock to get the telephone call from our friend Danillo saying John was dead. It wasn't just a senseless murder it was avoidable and yet maybe it wasn't. A very wise woman who knew John said he wanted to die. He was suicidal. I think she may be right. I know the last weekend we were together we went to see a famous Russian psychic who we happened to encounter in the hallway of the building where the party was being held to meet this guy. There he stood at 7 feet tall this Russian wizard, we arrived at the address at the same time. I say to him..."Oh you must be the psychic"? He looked down at me and then at John and suddenly he looked like he saw a horrific thing. I looked at John and he shrugged as the front door opened and the psychic almost ran into the apartment, ditching us. He wouldn't tell me what he saw he said "your friend knows, if he wants to tell you he will". I thought it was my friends heart (he was a big man)and John just pretended he had no idea what the guy was on about. Turns out John's now ex boyfriend was actively searching NYC to kill him. Hassan kept his word. John was on the run and this Russian wizard saw the after math. The thing is I could have gathered up my friend and jetted him back to L.A. with me. But he didn't want the help he wanted what he had created.
I have another friend that I am worried about, he happens to be gay, he happens to be sad and he happens to loath therapies of any kind. I am once again powerless to do a friggin thing except love him.
It is the weirdest most painful thing to love someone and worry because they want to die and yet is it really necessary? I think not.
It's none of my business, still it makes me sad.