David Nolan a dear friend, and comrade in broadcast passed away during the blizzard last night. I hear he had a heart attack while walking out there in that mess. Hell I was out there too,..with the flu as well.
I love extreme weather, esp. snow, and I thought this would be the last major storm of the winter. So did Dave it seems. So there we were,...though not together.
I lose count as to how many have left in the last year or two. Too many. Grief upon grief. One doesn't have time to recover when another blast hits us.
I just mentioned to a friend at the radio station that this is like a war. One of those meat grinder affairs like the American Civil War or WW 1. Where not some, but 'everyone' you know gets it.
This is fucking nuts.
I don't blame you guys for never commenting or coming by this blog anymore. It might be bad luck to be here.
Holy fucking shit.
I still have a copy of the "Fuck You" song he lent me a zillion years ago. We were saving it for when the F.C.C finally changed the adult language rules. We planned to play the damn thing.
Let's see,..it went:
Fuck You!
Fuck You!
Fuck You!
Fuck You!
Eat Shit!
Eat Shit!
Fuck You!
Fuck You!
...and so on for about 20 minutes.
It was by a short lived early 1980's punk band from somewhere. Dave came by a cassette copy,..yeah "cassette" remember them.
Anyway I think he played it once at 3:00am, but got a warning from the suits. Can't imagine why. Anyway we've been looking forward with infantile glee for a re-match.
I'm keeping that prized relic of a freer age, and will play it in Dave's honor when a sense of humor at last returns to the administrative office.
Goobye Dave,...loves ya kid.
PS,
The conspiracy theory at the radio station is that it's the 9/11 poison that we all breathed, ate, and drank back during those early days, and later months after the attack.
We're about four blocks from Ground Zero, and most of us were covering the story or doing tech backup on the Day, and for months after in the middle of that horror. A slow killer like radiation poisoning seems to be wiping us out.
Of course there's no medical coverage for any of us for that. Even though Bush specifically promised he'd see we were 'all' taken care of.
Well he was telling the truth.
...we are indeed being taken care of.
7 comments:
I know the feeling Sid. I lost my Mom last year, and almost lost my gay foster son this month. He's 29, and the theater art director for MICA in Baltimore.
Hi Mike,...didn't know you came here. Welcome. Yeah it just ain't stopping.
I'm afraid to answer the phone for fear of yet even another loss.
I still so sorry about your Mom. Thank the G-ddess your son is okay. I hope he lives a loooong happy life, and give you more grey hair!
My gawd ain't this a situation?
I'm almost out of tears.
Will 'you' please take care of yourself! ...and another thing. What happened to that part you promised me in one of your movies.
You remember,..the air lock scene?
^..^
Sidney, I hit New Sydneyland daily...I don't often comment here...Why comment when everything that needs to be said has been said?
I wish there was some way I could get down to Brooklyn and offer whatever cold comfort I could supply. Unfortunately the only way out is through and no one ever gets out alive.
G-d bless,
Mr. Chips
Not long ago my son asked me, as someone who would know, if what he had heard from his Creole in-laws was true: old people get up so early because they are so eager to confirm that they are still alive for at least one more day.
Thanx for the reminder, kid...
No, life is not like war. Of even the maddest slaughter there it can be said, 'C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre.' In the battle with time and age, none of us will make it back. Ce n'est pas non plus magnifique.
I'd like you to play that song for a neighbor of mine. Preferably at maximum volume from 1 AM to 7 AM, on a regular basis.
"I don't blame you guys for never commenting or coming by this blog anymore. It might be bad luck to be here."
Uncle, please understand that at least in my case, I have no religious beliefs and hate platitudes, this does put me at a disadvantage when trying to console someone in their grief.
I worked in theater through the 1980s the full onslaught of AIDS and saw young men in their 'teens -early thirties deteriorate into sick old men and their was really nothing that could be done other than sedate them when things got too far gone.
At 53 I am out of things to say about death...but not out of sympathy. I have heard your voice for years and you are in my thoughts.
Lino
Thanks to all,..much love to you.
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