daniel

I haven't written about him or to him in a long time.  Years, I suppose. Jesus, I can actually use the measurement of "years" in reference to an earth without him.  When the eff did that happen?  I don't really know what to say, sitting in this silent apartment.  I know, I really do, that the dead that we loved the most are never really gone.  But he sure feels gone.  He used to labor over what he believed happened at the end of it all.  He would hold his head and rock and say he just couldn't believe that there was anything: That there was just darkness.  The End.  No More.  I don't know.   Who am I to tell him differently.  I haven't been there.  My mother said to him once, "it's ok to believe that, Danny.  Then, if there actually IS something after that, it can be just a really nice surprise."  He thought about it, and seemed quite pleased with that, "Yeah, a surprise." Well, Danny, I hope you had the biggest, sweetest surprise.  And I hope like hell that I'm just as surprised some day.  Meet me there, would you? I'm gonna need a little help learning my way around.

 

I spend my days allowing myself very little time to think about how much I totally hate that you aren't here.  Because otherwise, as I learned in those first few months, there was no getting out of bed.  So, since ya don't get paid to lay on your back, crying the days away, I had to build a shelf sturdy enough to hold all the pain, and all the regrets, and the absence, and all the confusion, and all the, and all the, and all the.  Yeah, it's a damn big shelf.  And after the first couple years, it stopped crashing to the ground every day.  It's hard to accept that feeling less immobilizing pain over losing my best friend doesn't make me some sort of soulless sociopath.  But, according to my therapist, that's progress.  And, well, I'm not smart enough to efficiently or confidently dispute this with him, so I just assume that someday, I'll get it.

 

So, 4 years.  4 years.  I don't know, Danny.  I'm still pretty pissed at you. There are a lot of things we were supposed to do.  Places we'd see, mistakes we'd make, and milestones we'd share.  You were supposed to be my best man, damn it.  Yeah, that's right, you owe me BIG.  Just because you're ashes now, you aren't off the hook for standing me up at the alter.  There, the angry part of this...whatever the hell this thing is...is done.  

I sure wish you could visit.  I'd even let you have one of my beers.  You'd find what I'm doing with my time and life to be "most satisfactory".  It's a good life, Danny.  And I'm damn sorry I don't get to share it with you. I'm pleased to report that I still keep company and maintain friendships with the most splendid people on earth.  You'd really approve of my friends. I've made a few sensational friends since you caught your train to the other side.  And, now don't get a big head about this, but I tell them rather regularly how much I wish they could meet you.  You'd make them laugh their asses off.   There's not a doubt in my mind.

 

Anyway, I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to share one of your last pieces of writing with them tonight.  If it bothers you, feel free to stop by later and tell me off.  I'd love it.

 

And Now Begins My Life By Daniel P. Crowle

December 26, 2007

 

Current Mood: Excited

 

"I graduate from college about a week-and-a-half ago and, unsurprisingly, the world has not become my oyster.  The first night I was back in my parents' home, I was rolling coins to exchange at the bank for paper currency.  This is what I was doing when I was six.  Has anything really changed?  Well, sure it has.  For one, I'm working in the broadcasting field already.  I'm back at the radio station from my summer internship writing and reporting news, updating the web site, and soon I'll be doing more, like screening phone calls for the morning call-in show.  Because my radio work is VERY part-time, and I have to work up a savings, I've also taken a second job as a cook at a bowling alley.  My training starts tomorrow and I truly do not know what to expect.  I'm not sure if the job will even work out, but I'm giving it a shot.

I'm still coming down from the thrill of completing my movie, Thieves and Cheats.  I really want to start another project, and it turns out I have to means to do so.  I stopped by AccessVision in Battle Creek, where I interned during high school, and my old supervisor showed me the new equipment they've got there now, including a more compact portable studio that I am permitted to borrow any time!  I can get lights, FOUR cameras, and a switcher all at once.  The cameras aren't as impressive as the JVC HD100 cameras at Central, but so what?  They work, and I can check out FOUR at a time!  I just need to start putting pen to paper and cranking out more scripts.

Christmas came and went, and I'm fairly pleased with what I took away.  My mom actually bought the entire Rosanne series on DVD for me, all nine seasons.  That was so surprising.  I thought she might get me one or two, and then it would be up to me to complete my video library, but nope!  It's all done.

While my schooling may be over, I refuse to let my education end.  I took my Barnes and Noble gift cards to the mall and got plenty of film books, including a 700+ page biography of John Ford.  I've decided to become a person who knows a lot about very few things rather than the other way around.  That way, if one of my subjects of expertise comes up among friends, I can show off and dominate the conversation, thereby alienating myself from my pals.  What a sweet life that'll be.

 

 

M.C.