Topics for consideration this week so far:
The Neal Gaiman’s Events-Are-Cowards Theory
Funerals, Why We Have Them
The Heaping-crock-of-shit That is The Health Care System in This Country
These topics, the fact that I even considered them appropriate, prove to me that I’m a fairly substandard writer. The one that needs to be addressed here is simple and difficult at the same time: someone is gone from the world and we miss them. The fact that I don’t want to embellish proves I’m a bit of coward when it comes to self-exploration.
I went to a memorial service this weekend for a friend. A friend who left us too soon. As funerals go, this was a good one. We raised a glass, shared a memory and lent a hand or a shoulder to those who needed it. But as deaths go it was too damn soon. I’ve spent the time since avoiding this infernal machine, knowing that I should try to put something down about all this, thinking about what I could possibly pen/type to do this justice.
Three days, an hour of bad reality television, a good run and a glass of wine or three later, I’ve still got nothing. The languages are different, My fingers can’t pass the emotion to the screen, know matter how hard I try. Does not translate, output errors abound. Humor, travel, politics, design – these i can handle. Grief is another thing entirely.
So i go run again, I go to they gym and all that’s kicking around in my head is stupid bullshit topics, that say nothing to the storm of the past week. More horribly flawed output, nothing close to capturing the gravity of the times.
And so I’m sitting in my backyard now waiting for something to dislodge, ready to chunk this thing in the damn garden when this song comes on.
Ambulance Ltd. – The Ocean
It’s a cover of an old Velvet Underground song. There’s no significance behind this, no logic. I hadn’t listened to music with Jerry in 15 years, I don’t know if he’d even like it (in fact i doubt it), but it makes me think of him. We each find our solace in different ways: God, Meditation, Music, you name it. It may not be the same way for us each time…one method may supersede the other on the next fixed game that life hurls our direction. These stupid little letters on a screen didn’t cut it for me this time. A cover song set on repeat…who would have thought that would help me think of a friend finding peace.
As long as it moves you forward, with good memories of the past. There’s bar in Red River called the Motherlode Saloon. Two years ago Jerry and i sat at a table in the back sipping Lonestar, artfully avoiding getting dragged onto the dance floor, into the flurry of professional two-steppers. He watched the crowd with a trademarked smirk that we all remember fondly. A good time, a good night. A good memory. A push forward.