tree line

the code is implied

As far as I'm concerned, there is an implied code of silence that goes into effect when a person enters into an exchange of certain goods and/or services. There isn't a tangible contract here, just a mutual understanding that a decent and rational level of privacy exists. Nothing based in written law, just an implied code of silence.

That being said, I find it abhorrent and disgusting the lengths that certain purveyors of the previously referred to goods have gone to in their quest for the spotlight. The owner of the sex toy store that David Carradine reportedly "frequented" really needs to shut the fuck up and get back to dusting her toy shelves. I'm not going to link to her, her store or the multiple articles her story appears in. Let the man rest for goodness sake. Your insight amounts to nothing more than the selling out of a secret that has already been accidentally revealed. Furthermore, it is not shocking to me on any level, what anyone, famous or not, might be into in their lives that exist behind closed doors. Those doors close for a reason.

echo

echo, e c h o, e c h o, e c h o

Vespa

Vespa, originally uploaded by crow_soup.

RIP JStar...

Back in 1991, when we were younger and dumber, Jason agreed to chaperone me during a move from CA to Portland, Oregon. The move itself was an ill-advised decision on my part and the method only made it worse; two tickets on Greyhound. With 60lbs of my life’s belongings crammed into a 30lb pack we lit out on Xmas eve morning. Fittingly, I had managed to catch some kind of flu right before we left, and spent most of the million hour ride on the floor of the bus in silent misery. OK, I wasn’t so silent, which isn’t surprising but is kind of the point.

When we finally got to Portland sometime in the wee hours of Xmas, even the bus station was closed. Turns out that Oregon had been hit by a blizzard worse than anything ever seen by man up until that day. Our ride was snowed in; we had nowhere to stay, very little cash between us and couldn’t even manage to get arrested for trying to hitchhike. I think those of you who know me can imagine my cheery demeanor at this point – even * I * feel bad for Jason in hindsight. But he didn’t complain about my complaining. He was, through it all, his same solid, stoic, gentle self.

At some point in this messy adventure, somewhere on the wrong side of the tracks, definitely on the bad side of town, I slipped and fell over on my backpack. I was totally turtled, stuck like a beetle on my back and so fucking pissed and that I couldn’t even react.

I will always remember lying there defeated; when Jason’s hand came reaching down to pull me up. He brushed me off, asked me if I was okay, and promptly started laughing. It’s a pretty mundane thing, and we would all do it – help a friend who’s tripped and fallen. But that act was so Jason. In big ways and small, he was ALWAYS there to help a friend. He saved my ass on occasions too countless and embarrassing to go into here. He gave me work when I needed it, fed me more often than not, helped me pack and move without even a hint of not wanting to be there. There was always a smile, always a laugh, always a mischievous glance at the most inappropriate moment, and for me that was perfection personified.

I don’t know exactly when Jason and I first met but I do know he was a friend of a friend of a friend and in Prunedale, sometimes that’s all it takes. He was a sweet, generous kid then, and that’s how he stayed. What I admired the most, loved the most, and will miss the most is that Jason was 100 percent available and solid for the people he loved and I can only hope that I was able to be there for him as solidly as he always was for me.

His presence changed my world forever, and his absence will do the same.

I love you JStar, see you around...

gimme shelter

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