Losing anyone is surreal, horribly hard, rupturing. Losing someone young who one always feels could have been otherwise, ie. alive, is stranger, more difficult. Here he is so full of energy, joy, utterly in the moment, at a Cannibal Corpse concert in 2001, fist athrusting, spikes on his hat spraying their metallic light everywhere. I was with him for nearly eight years after this picture was taken, and when he died he was already not this boy of course; work and addiction and the stresses of existing had scarred him in ways beyond this moment. But he is forever this being to me. This crazy love with its irrationalities, music, poisons, beauty. Again, Jorie Graham on grief: “how in time you do not move on/how there is no “other” side/how the instant is very wide & bright & we cannot ever get away with it/the instant/what holds the “know” – .” What holds the knowing, yes. You just have to get used to never being again what didn’t know or know like this. A state not always bearable but always, nonetheless.