Posted by vanessa (152.163.188.230) on August 28, 2002 at 22:01:50:
On Friday, August 9th at about 6 pm, I unlocked the door to my NYC apartment to find a man standing in my kitchen. He had his back to me, and was dressed in a soaking wet trenchcoat. His head was oddly swollen. I screamed, loudly.
Bob Lukomski was right behind me. He couldn't see the man, and when I looked again, the man had disappeared. This sort of thing has happened to me before. Bob was understandably startled. By way of explanation, I said "In a few days, we'll find out that someone has died."
I hate to be right.
I used to call Jim "that Christian Slater guy." I would say to Jason "Bring that Christian Slater guy" or "What did the Christian Slater guy think?" When I got to know Jim better, I realized that behind his dry wit and lightning cleverness lived a fierce, probing intellect and an amazing artist.
We struggled with the same (dis)abilities.
I built two shrines to him. One at the ocean at low tide, built of shells representing the artist, the person, the friend. It is washed into the sea.
The other I built on a mountain in the Adirondaks. I found a 2 foot pine tree, dead but perfectly preserved, every needle and tiny pine cone completely intact.
We struggled with the same (dis)abilities.
I pray that he is at peace.
To quote Auden on the death of Yeats
"Earth, receive an honoured guest"
I pray that he is at peace.
In sadness,
Vanessa Paige Swanson
Manhattan
August 28, 2002