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So this

My friend Brent died on Saturday.

Sudden massive heart attack at age 39.

Nobody knows anything. Not that well.

What follows is the entire text of the email he sent me that morning. I don't know. Maybe it will help, being out there, being read by those with time.

There's more, including the coincidences, signs, unspeakable déjà vu, and yet more strange circumstances, (including the fact that I actually recorded parts our last conversation (just the day before, just on Friday, can you fucking believe it?) and maybe I'll post parts somewhere) but here's this, and I don't know. It's been 36 hours or so and I just don't know.

* * *

The email subject line is From Brent: Thank You.


Wanted to say that it was really great to see you.

We really shouldn't let months go by. Even though we spoke of not having enough time to concentrate on our *arts*, I still get a spark
when we hang-out and find a balance that is needed.

I also take comfort in the fact that there is another in the world that feels similar to me on some level.

That and you make me laugh,.... You funny.

Thank you so much for all the *goodies* too.

After class last night, we watch a couple episodes of The Misfits before retiring to bed. Great show!

Also, I found that I don't enjoy UK chocolate. I think they just suck when it comes to food in general.

No wonder Jamie Oliver is so big there. A monkey that could put together a half-decent sandwich, ("Sarni" if your from mother England), would be held in

One thing we do well in 'ol America is eat and eat we do.

Oh, thank you for the coffee as well.

If it is possible, could you send me that podcast we did? I want to listen to my fruity, faggy, voice some more.

Could you also send that kick-ass trailer to Angel? That was really very cool.

Let's get together sooner than later.

I may be leaving for Philadelphia for a year come this October and we would have to come up with the Skype Podcast and I'm afraid that will make my
faggy voice harder to hear which means you'll have to concentrate on what I'm saying thus making the listener very aware that I sound faggy.

No one wins.

If I cannot go to Philly, this will all be mute being I'll just be down the hall from you.

Or, standing on the off ramp of the 10 West. I'll be the one with the sign that reads, "Will do Kung-Fu for food."

That's not very funny, actually.


* * *

I'm gonna miss that asshole so much.


Aug. 8th, 2011 06:46 pm (UTC)
Thank you, sir. Very much appreciated.


The Savage Young Bat
The Wondercave

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