Seeing Brian is like waking up and realizing it’s Sunday and the sun is shining and you have no obligations for the whole day. It stretches out in front of you, full of possibility, free from stress, open to adventure and napping equally. Seeing Brian walk through the door feels like getting exactly what you wanted for your birthday, when you never even asked for it.

In his presence I know I can be whoever I am in that moment; I can be absolutely real without fear. It is Brian’s own authenticity and openness that does this. I love his willingness to see things in new ways, to hear the same story over and over because I forgot I already told him, to try new things and patiently explain the simplest technology for the one hundredth time. He is generous and kind and loving, and never ever plays mind games. He never judges, never yells, and always takes his shoes off on my rug without being asked. He cooks and eats well, is intelligent and handsome, and loves to get right down on the floor to play with animals and children and those of us who don't realize we are neither.

Brian is the kind of friend who never complains if you cry and get snot on his clothes. He lives his life with enthusiasm and curiosity, and inspires me to do the same. When I’m with him I want to be the best person I am capable of being, and I know that no more or less is expected of me than that desire. He thrives on adventure, laughs easily and with joy; I am always thinking of new things that might inspire him, new ways to make him laugh and crinkle up his eyes the way he does.

Hard to believe I’ve known Brian more than 12 years; I certainly hope to know him long after we’ve passed another decade (or three) in each other’s lives. We’ll get his grandkids to open our bottles of wine then, and sit on the porch telling tales made up mostly of shared silence and laughter, much as we do now only slower.

Brian is one of the best friends I have ever had; I’m looking forward to sharing the rest of my journey with him.

Brian is like Baklava: many, many, many layers. An endless discovery of sweet pure honey, rich nuts, folded over and over ever so carefully... tech and spirit, journeys in dream & over oceans and joyous homecomings, feasting and fasting, meditating and geeking out; he is the Digeridoo playing in the orchestra, the hacker doing Tai Chi, the juggler holding our tender souls so gently. He is a wonderful friend, an amazing human being; i admire him in his complexity, his honesty, his delicious love of life. There is always something new to discover about this infinitely varied, ever evolving pastry that i am delighted to be able to call my friend Brian.

I met Brian through my high school boyfriend way back in the days when we spent our time playing Magic and laser tag. He was one of the few people who could relate to me and help me when my mom was dying, and he gave me advice through that time that know one else could have. He's a great big snuggly teddy bear who's great at hugs and, if you're lucky, massages, and he's a fantastically geeky friend who introduced me to Google way back when people were still using seven different search engines to try and find what they wanted. He built me a computer once, and the motherboard promptly exploded, but I don't blame him. I know he was just trying to keep me from going on fat-chicks-in-party-hats again.

But seriously, he has been a great friend. He's run away to the other side of the ocean for a bit, but I'm sure he'll be back soon and our mutual nerdiness can recommence. w00t.