That permanent sort of thing that people casually refer to as "friendship"– two views

“I have often noticed that we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability of type that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind. No matter how many times we reopen 'King Lear,' never shall we find the good king banging his tankard in high revelry, all woes forgotten, at a jolly reunion with all three daughters and their lapdogs. Never will Emma rally, revived by the sympathetic salts in Flaubert's father's timely tear. Whatever evolution this or that popular character has gone through between the book covers, his fate is fixed in our minds, and, similarly, we expect our friends to follow this or that logical and conventional pattern we have fixed for them. Thus X will never compose the immortal music that would clash with the second-rate symphonies he has accustomed us to. Y will never commit murder. Under no circumstances can Z ever betray us. We have it all arranged in our minds, and the less often we see a particular person, the more satisfying it is to check how obediently he conforms to our notion of him every time we hear of him. Any deviation in the fates we have ordained would strike us as not only anomalous but unethical. We could prefer not to have known at all our neighbor, the retired hot-dog stand operator, if it turns out he has just produced the greatest book of poetry his age has seen.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“All along, Patty had been unaware that time is as adhesive as love, and that the more time you spend with someone the greater the likelihood of finding yourself with a permanent sort of thing to deal with that people casually refer to as "friendship," as if that were the end of the matter, when the truth is that even if "your friend" does something annoying, or if you and "your friend" decided that you hate each other, or if "your friend" moves away and you lose each other's address, you still have a friendship, and although it can change shape, look different in different lights, become an embarrassment or an encumbrance or a sorrow, it can't simply cease to have existed, no matter how far into the past it sinks, so attempts to disavow or destroy it will not merely constitute betrayals of friendship but, more practically, are bound to be fruitless, causing damage only to the humans involved rather than to that gummy jungle (friendship) in which those humans have entrapped themselves, so if sometime in the future you're not going to want to have been a particular person's friend, or if you're not going to want to have had that particular friendship you and that person can make with one another, then don't be friends with that person at all, don't talk to that person, don't go anywhere near that person, because as soon as you start to see something from that person's point of view (which, inevitably, will be as soon as you stand next to that person) common ground is sure to slide under your feet.”
― Deborah Eisenberg, The Stories (So Far) of Deborah Eisenberg  

Why we don’t talk much anymore

Did you know that I am inspired by the trees? It broke my heart to leave London not because of the birds, as some believed, but because of the trees. In fact, while waiting to get onto the flight, trees were the first things I wrote about and drew in my diary. If ever they ask me what inspires me the most, I will probably answers trees. Also, I love the smell of mint; it's calming and invigorating. And that’s the only reason why I always drink mint tea whenever we meet. Now you know.

I don’t think college was the best time of my life. It was good while it lasted, but frankly I was glad when it was over. The "golden days" can carry the conversation only this far. Yes, there were friendships and some such, but the status you (by you I mean the generic “you” as used by horoscope writers) and every other tween and teen has posted, sums it up succinctly- forget the people in your past there is a reason they didn't make it to your future. Which brings me to a minor point, do you even believe in what you claim to believe in?

Now we are on facebook. And its friendship in safe mode where “LOL” is considered an appropriate response. And everything else is categorized as “nice”. But then “what is Facebook Friendship, after all, but the unending quest for People Like Me, people who like all of My Favorite Things—a monument to mutually enabling narcissism, disguised as a Place Where Everybody Knows Your Name?)'* However, lets move on from here, in part because I am only writing this as I need to get stuff out of the way before I can get back to things that really matter like a latte and Leonard Cohen. And also in part because there is nothing I can say about facebook that hasn’t already been said.

And that brings us to the question: why we don’t talk much anymore? Because there’s nothing to say that I hasn't already been said before.

*You can read more about ironic appreciation- “liking things,” rather than liking things, haters, lifebox, and other such stuff here.

The Crow

The crow offered me the first bite, generously. Politely I had to refuse. Our friendship was by now so congenial that I choose not to bring up the issue of my vegetarianism. I feared that something so trivial might soon snowball into an insurmountable mountain of mutual dislike. Like it happens often in human friendships. But I should have known better. For it was a crow that I had befriended. Giving me a deep, keen look the bird nodded his head and got back to his snack.

Did he know why I refused his friendly offering? I don’t quite know the answer to that. It never came up. However, there have been no wormy offerings of friendships ever since but many a cheery caw and circling over the head. And even a few striking poses among the blooming gulmohar. Yeah, we are alright. At least for now.

In fact, Mark Twain was onto something when he wrote that the crow “never arrived at what he is by any careless process, or any sudden one; he is a work of art, and "art is long"; he is the product of immemorial ages, and deep calculation; one can't make a bird like that in a day.”

(You can read Mark Twain's brilliant essay on the Crow here)

Does your conscience bother you

The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand,

nor the kindly smile nor the joy of companionship;

it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when

he discovers that someone else believes in him and is

willing to trust him.

Glory of Friendship by Ralph Waldo Emerson

or, in other words

If a dog will not come to you after having looked in your face, you should go home and examine your conscience.

- Woodrow Wilson

Friendship

…(T)his is the real and the only reason for friendship: to provide a mirror so that the person can contemplate his image from the past, which without the eternal blah-blah of memories between friends, would long ago have disappeared.
(Milan Kundera, Identity)