In my freshman year of high school, I met a boy named Justin via my old best friend Amanda's Methodist youth group. I wasn't really into going to church, but I enjoyed the social time (I later learned he went for pretty much that reason as well, considering he's Jewish). The first thing Amanda ever said to him was, "You look like Jimmy Fallon!" This wasn't really true. He looked better than Jimmy Fallon, to me at least.
Our friendship really took off during my sophomore year, when I found out he lived right down the street from me. He would ride his bike to my house a few times a week, usually, and he would come sit at my computer with me and we'd talk as I downloaded music. I made him his first mix. It featured Violent Femmes and Gang of Four and Ozma, to name a few. I recall one Spring afternoon riding home in my mom's car, and as we came closer to our house, we noticed writing all over the driveway: lyrics to Modest Mouse's "The Good Times are Killing Me" (I was so impressed I took a picture; I wish I knew where it was). Justin rode up shortly thereafter. It was a good day.
Our friendship continued, day in, day out, until the summer after my sophomore year brought some shitty news. Justin had to move to Virginia due to his parents' involvement in the military. I knew I was going to miss the hell out of him, but I was confident I would see him again. We hugged for a long while the day before he was due to leave, and things seemed to be alright. I spent the night with Amanda. The next day we were working at one of her parent's restaurants and I received a call from my mom. Justin was at my house. He was trying to run away; he wanted to stay with me instead of going halfway across the country. I talked to him, and I was really sad, but I didn't get to see him until he visited six months later. Afterward, a year passed with us talking occasionally. My mom always joked, "Tell him I want him to marry my daughter."
Then, right after my high school graduation, I got a MySpace message from him. He told me everything that had been going on in Virginia--some things very surprising, some very depressing. He revealed that I was the first girl he had ever truly loved. I never knew what my mom had known so well. Throughout my first year of college we talked often. I remember him getting me into new music last Spring, just like I had done to him. I told him I wanted him to come back to Texas. And I really did. But I pleaded, "Don't tell me you're coming until you're really coming, like two weeks before at the most. I just don't want to get my hopes up."
That call came, and in January of this year, he came. For about month he lived on my floor. We drank and smoked, amongst other things, at our friend Mike's, until Justin got an apartment; then we did it even more. We made wine, like they do in prison (got us mighty fucked up, by the way). Justin proved to be one of the most interesting people I have ever known, considering I didn't know him as deeply in high school. We gave him nicknames like Sex Panther, JSquared, and Justinian. I learned to play poker with him at my side. He, Chris, Mike, and I formed a band and he taught me some Neutral Milk Hotel on the guitar. But then, about a week ago, the apartment manager decided to evict him because he wasn't paying his electric bill. I told him he could stay on my floor again until he figured stuff out; my mom agreed. We really thought he was going to. But since his friend Kyle was already here visiting, he decided it would be best to go back to Virginia with him. Monday was his last day in town. Needless to say, worst 4/20 ever. I realized a lot of things after he left. I couldn't stop crying for two days. It just seemed really sudden. Chris and I agreed that we didn't feel like we got to give him a good "good-bye." So hopefully we'll be seeing him this summer.
I titled this mix "The Emperor Who Never Sleeps" because that was what the Byzantine Emperor Justinian I was known as. Consider this an homage to someone who has truly changed my life.