Well, fuck. How many time can one say, this is far too many, or try to connect it to anything else; this, truly, isn't the place for any of that anyway, if it even matters. So, to start again—
Well, fuck.
R.I.P.
Truly a legend of Bluelight; and now, joining too many of them in the Shrine. This is not one that I saw coming; for all the carefree talk of drugs ... everyone talks, more or less carefreely, of drugs here at least in unguarded moments. He was living the life, too, in a way (Guido paints the picture better than I; even I'd want to be like him, too, this image; but was living that other life, too; this darker side of of the scene and our community … what more is there to say of this than this; and what more to be said of this man, what hasn't been said already? We've seen death take a lot of us, even this year, 2016 of cursed Bluelight memory, really, and it seems each time we say to ourselves, oh no, not
─────, Bluelight will never be the same … and each time it is, and it won't, because Bluelight is made up all of people like us—that's what make things like this so heart-wrenching, infuriating, and gives us all this feeling of powerlessness, and thoughts even like"why not me?
I might have left the world so, so easily [how many abscesses have I drained and let lie?], and left fewer in mourning; God knows I've done all that, and worse, why?" We can only be reminded that who we are and what we chose to be, or don't, is what it is, even Rock Stars. Which Jim was. A real one. You don't get to know one of those everyday, even through the Internet and the phone alone.
He was the James Dean of Bluelight. The ladies wanted him, guys wanted to be him. He was the definition of cool. When he had the good job he enjoyed working, a young lady that loved him no matter what, his own place, living life the way he wanted and keeping it together, being happy and not living in the past, just looking to the future and aiming towards the sky I wanted to be like him.
He was living the "Bluelight dream" in a way.
This really has me twisted. I just want to numb it. But I won't, I'll deal with it like a man because Axl would call me a sad cunt if I did.
Jim loved this place so much. A lot o you had a large impact on him.
He was the silliest most confident most amazing handsome guy I've ever known. Him passing has destroyed me inside.
I'll let you guys know how this happened ONLY so you guys don't make the same fucking mistake he did.
As you guys know, Jim loved his dope. And me. And music. But I don't think you guys know that he had some irrational fear of getting medical attention. He used a spot to hit he should have quit using forever ago even when this shit was muscle deep. I pleaded w him told him he'd get an infection end up like his dad etc he never fucking listened.
Anyway this thing actually closed up but the damage was done. We thought he had the flu for a bit, he got better, went to work, etc. but then he got a cough. He got skinny as fuck and I was so worried. I told him he should see a doctor 10x s day but he kept saying I feel better I'm fine just have to sleep. Turns out he had a mrsa infection in his heart. That spread to his lungs. It was too late. It turned my strong man into a shell. It was the most devastating thing ever having the conversation w a doctor about whether I wanted to continue oxygen tube and revive him if his heart stopped or let him go peacefully. I knew he would've wanted the latter. They told me he wasn't going to get better. His lungs were destroyed. :'(
Jim wasn't afraid to die. But now I wish he were. He always thought he'd be fine. For years he always did this and let shit get out of control before taking action
BL don't make this mistake. PLEASE! If it can kill my baby it can kill anyone
Axl was a good man. He deserves to have his memory respected and cherished. Claire is one of us. She deserves support and love especially now.
No one here is perfect and Axl had his own demons.
Rest in peace. Jim. This thread will be moved to the Shrine soon.
This thread will remain here as long as is appropriate given that this was his real home here; and I don't think he'd be the type who'd care for an overly-solemn wake, even online. It will be moved to the shrine when the time is right.
Jim and I had on several moments occasion to speak of spiritual things; I know, perhaps even thought it might be seen paradoxically, despite living this life so many people who wouldn't understand may call dissolute, he was a man of faith, simple, traditional, because it was a gift that was given to him, and he, in the unguarded moment, spoke of these things in an upright and humble manner, as if he "would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner." (If you are not familiar with this parable; it is
this man who inherits the Kingdom of God, not the elaborately and ostentatiously religious one.)
"The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord."
And in Jim's tradition, the liturgy of the passing of the soul, I believe, goes:
Lord our God Almighty, who willest that all men should be saved and should come to a knowledge of the truth; who desirest not the death of a sinner, but that he should turn again and be saved: We pray thee and beseech thee, deliver thou the soul of thy servant, James, from every bond, free it from every curse. For thou art he who delivereth them that are bound, and guideth aright them that are cast down, O Hope of the hopeless. Wherefore, O Master, command that the soul of thy servant, James, may depart in peace, and may rest in thine everlasting mansions with all thy Saints; through thine Only-begotten Son, with whom thou art blessed, together with thine all-holy, and good, and life-giving Spirit, now, and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.
R.I.P., Jim, my friend, I know we had our differences; I know I pray for you now, and for Claire in her sorrow and whatever dark nights and uncertainties and troubles may follow, and I hold you in nothing but the highest regard as a brother-in-arms in this life that at once we both picked up, and was by happenstance thrown upon us - you lived it well, and I know nobody here has an ill word to speak of you, and I suspect it be the same in your embodied life as well. We never had the opportunity to meet and were not as close certainly as you are with some, but you meant and mean a great deal to many people, your friends here, elsewhere, those who've heard your music, and the little daily influences that you put into the world almost without thought. You were a unique and courageous soul who exuded friendliness and charisma and strength, and you will be missed here, and I'm sure, in every other community that you touched.
