De-Flowery Prose in Memoriam
(this post contains some coarse language and anecdotes that I wouldn’t normally share, but given who I’m writing about I’m not going to pull punches because he sure as hell didn’t)
I lost a friend this weekend. No, lose isn’t quite right – he died. A guy whose absence is exponentially more significant to his fiancee Taryn, adorable little girl Inara and her older sister Madison, his parents and his large number of close friends.
Still – it seems incumbent on me to put into words stuff I had long intended to share with him that “someday” when our paths crossed in person as in some ways he was a factor in some pivotal moments in my life, moments he almost certainly had forgotten if he even noticed them to begin with. Moments that his passing ensured we would never laugh or cringe over. But that fucker went and died so what I should have said over a beer or scotch will now be posted here because damn it anyway.
~ Fall 1988
I’m a freshman at the University of Miami. A (relatively) street smart kid that had spent the prior few years attending high school in Rio so I figured I was pretty damn clever. I’m working the atrocious overnight shift (4 – 7a) on WVUM and despite an audience of..tens? I love it. Being on the air is a long time dream and I enjoy every minute. The DJ that followed me (doing the far more respectable 7 – 10a drive time slot) is K.D.; we exchange pleasantries as we hand off the studio and one day she suggests we go to the Andy Summers/Tangerine Dream show at the recently resurrected Cameo Theater on Miami Beach. In what proved to be a rather short romance we slept together and then had what was my oddest breakup which entailed each of us choosing different tables at a breakfast restaurant and never speaking again. Ah…but here’s the twist – our brief interlude resulted in (reportedly) a rather cranky Wednesday night Metal Show host (according to the station rumor mill he wanted to kick my ass). That guy? Chez. Someone I had crossed paths with at best a handful of times (likely far less) and he hated me. Why? Well, as best as I could determine it was that either he and K.D. had a relationship and I was being used for revenge or…who the hell knows, I never talked to him about it. I’d lost my virginity to the future mother of his daughter, so yeah I can imagine he wasn’t a big fan, but I never found out if he knew (or cared) about what had transpired.
~Fall/Spring 1990?
I had been casually seeing a local WVUM fan and she was a rabid fan of the Miami music scene, incessantly calling into my (now prime time) shows to request songs by local bands. After intense badgering I went to the UM Patio to meet up with her and watch one of those bands. It was Coral Gables, the band Chez drummed for. I remember (a) resenting him because as a drummer he was exponentially better than I ever had been or would be and (b) surprised at him singing a cappella – that just seemed so not him but he pulled it off. This time I ended up the resentful one as during the summer break my paramour would end up with their bass player and forget all about my ass, but damn their one cassette album kicked ass. In fact I digitized it and leaked it to Bob Cesca to surprise Chez with on their podcast – actually sent it to Chez too, he had lost it in a computer crash I think. Anyways, we all figured Coral Gables was set to achieve rock stardom and that would be that.
Summer ~1992
I had just graduated and was listening to the morning show on WVUM heading to work or something when I heard Chez mention his newborn daughter (with K.D.) and I called in to congratulate him. He was, in a word, gracious. I won’t presume to say fences were mended, we were never close – but as so many people have said, beneath the “fuck you” exterior was a truly nice guy. That exchange surprised me – I expected him to either have no clue who the hell I was, hang up on me, or just blow me off…but no, he was nice and thankful – and clearly genuine about it. The warmth people describe was there in spades.
Winter 2009
Years pass, no shit they do that. My Dad is dying…and I have to rush to Chicago as things turn bad. I’d come across Chez’s blog (DeusExMalcontent) and read it on a daily basis and in the chaos of having to travel I downloaded his novel Dead Star Twilight to read on the plane. Why? Because I was frantic – I could not fathom the ~3 hour flight with just the thoughts in my head bouncing around. His book was amazing – enthralling and painful and so fucking personal that it felt like I was intruding on someone else’s life – but it was also completely engrossing – so much so that I landed at O’Hare having been completely distracted from my personal crisis. I emailed Chez to tell him how that the novel baring his soul had helped me keep my shit together on that flight and he was, again, warm and kind and thankful. Thankful that his tale of personal loss and pain had helped me deal with my own shit. Humble, in fact.
Then when Inara was born his joy was immeasurable. He had cheerfully welcomed me as a newfound Browncoat when I had finally discovered the show Firefly and I immediately recognized the context of his daughter’s name. Both of us were by then parents and we would exchange the occasional email or message online – especially noting his anguish when Inara would have to leave him. He was a great Dad…man how it sucks to think of his wonderful little girl missing out on moments with him. You could hear his pride about her dancing, her bubbly personality and her delight at disrupting the podcast…and you could hear a stern Dad telling her to behave when she would interrupt a podcast – but it was always with love in his voice (and likely bemusement at how alike they were at heart).
Late 2016
I had noticed for some weeks than months that DeusExMalcontent was offline. Chez would acknowledge it and grumble that he needed to fix it. One day, I messaged him and offered to try to help – not that I’m some web guru, but I have a clue. After spinning wheels a bit I suggested he give me the login(s) and I’d try to see if I could help.
Consider what he did; giving an acquaintance access to pretty much the entirety of his online writing, some (most?) of which had been lost in his computer hack/crash. He did. He trusted me and I was very happy to find and resolve the glitch. DXM resurrected…sadly not with new content, but as a reader and fan I was happy to bring it back. That’s when we chatted and promised “next time I’m in LA or you’re in the Bay Area we should grab dinner or a drink…” “Sure that’d be great”.
In my head I planned to say “do you remember about K.D. and….”
Fucker died before I could. Maybe we would have laughed, maybe he would have told me to go fuck myself.
I just hate that it will ever remain maybe. RIP to someone gone way too young.