do you feel free 1

Tuesday - January 30, 2007

forcing the memory

to find a reason or a promise.

or any trace, a smudge or a footprint.

Like this one:

"Hello People, I am 14 years old, and attend NOVA middle school. I am a Seattle anarchist interested in youth rights, ending of war between states, and, of course, the destruction of the corrupt authoritarian state -Love"

from this site , The Seattle Anarchy meet-up.

Or this one, from the Discordians meet-up page, here:

"Hello one and all, I never knew there were so many of us. Well, it goes to show you: where leaps the stag, so leaps it's shadow. P.S. fnord!"

"Guy Robichaud Seattle, WA 98115 All consensual crimes ("victimless crimes") shouldn't be crimes, nor should our society accept any kind of morals into legislation"

(Guy was probably barely 13 when he signed that one )

and also: Tom Lunt

and it's possible that these are two of the very last images taken
of Guy and my daughter.

why do I do this?

does it help me understand differently, or better?

Posted at 01:04 AM

Tuesday - January 23, 2007

Guy's memorial

a decoration from the cake, which was in the shape of a big pink hat. Guy liked to wear hats.

what Guy's Dad read at the memorial:

Early in my courtship of Guy’s mother, Elizabeth, while we were in journalism school in Missouri, even before our first date, I asked her what she wanted to do when she was finished with school. Her simple reply was “I want to be a mommy.” No pretense of wanting to be the managing editor for the New York Times or a correspondent in Beirut, just the plain truth.

And so it began as a negotiation of the terms of marriage, a prenuptial agreement, if you will, to have one child. At the time I guess I thought that I was the one compromising and giving in. Now I know that it was by far the best deal of my life. For as profoundly painful as Guy’s death is, it would have been far worse to have not shared Guy’s presence for these past 16 years, and for this I am eternally grateful to Liz.

I have experienced a love I would never have reached without Guy. It is a love that will stay with me always and make me feel more fully. Guy’s spirit flows through me. I feel him when I walk through the fields, when I touch my wife sweetly on her cheek, and especially when I remember the life of this beautiful manchild.

Guy lived life with a gentle intensity. He once declared he was the happiest boy at his school . Guy’s energy and love were not diminished by sharing. Now that he is dead his energy is free to reside in those he loved and who loved him. All of us are better because of his presence.

There is no greater love than a parent’s for his child. It is a gift to the parent more that the child. I love my wife dearly, but she it not of my flesh. She and I love each other in a complimentary way; we strengthen each others weaknesses. We are stronger as a couple than as individuals. But Guy expanded our capacity to love and experience. He has given us a fuller, richer foundation with which to continue our lives. He has made us so much better, and man should be judged by how much he has changed people for the better. Guy is in me and I will be more alive because of his presence. Each of you who he touched will live fuller more active lives.

In a way Liz and I feel very selfish having had Guy to ourselves for most of his life. In the past few years, Guy brought more people within his sphere, especially his beloved Katie. We saw that Guy was not ours to keep but to share.

His energy has rejoined the earth from whence it came, and we will all be more alive because of it. He brought so much energy and love and spread it so generously that instead of the son learning from the father, I have been lifted with Guy’s being and will always live with him in me. Guy will walk with me; he will build with me; he will be with me to the end of my days.

Guy’s life is a treasure that resides deeply in me.

Guy Robichaud is dead – Long live Guy.

Posted at 01:26 PM

Tuesday - January 23, 2007

i don't know why i bother

to alert you to such things, but I'm one of the people in a group portrait in a New York Times web slide show which accompanies an article about one of my all-time favorite artists, Aline Kominsky-Crumb, and her new book.

Here's the picture:

I'm second from the right. Extremely embarrassing. Then you have Diane Noomin (Didi Glitz) and Carol Tyler. Aline on the far left. Here's the link until they archive the article away so we can't see it anymore.
Thank you David Chung for bringing this to my attention.

Posted at 01:17 PM

Saturday - January 20, 2007

in seattle again

to attend a memorial service for my nephew tomorrow. Now, it seems like I should have something to say about this, something about feelings, something sad, heartbroken, but I feel detached and numb, afraid to think of Guy's face and his laugh, the way his cheeks pulled his mouth up into such a broad grin. my heart sort of sinks when I think about that, and the aural memory of his voice, his kind sarcasm, if there is such a thing-- there was such a thing, for sure, in Guy, but I've not seen it in others.

Here's Guy helping me out with my workshop at Bumbershoot a few years ago, with the other kids, and Anne Elizabeth Moore. Guy choose the Kimmie Gives The Finger t-shirt.

And hey, thanks for all the kind comments. You guys are the tops and I wish the best wishes for you.

Posted at 01:19 PM

Saturday - January 06, 2007

My nephew died Wednesday afternoon

summer 2003

November 2006

Guy in the hospital, sleeping. drawn by Katie a few days before Christmas

From his Mom:

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 03, 2007 02:26 PM, CST
Guy died peacefully this afternoon shortly after 2:00 - no pain, no drama. He was breathing hard, and Jerry told him if he wanted to go, he could go. Then he simply stopped breathing.

Posted at 01:46 AM

Monday - January 01, 2007

upon commencing the new year

a tired sniff from PipSqueak

and one more of the same:

Posted at 01:37 AM

Wednesday - December 20, 2006

waiting

the news from Guy's mother, my idol:

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2006 08:43 AM, CST
Guy had another good night, and with some brief semi-awake times. I thought an episode of The Simpsons might get through the fog in a way all our I-love-yous could not, so at 7:00 p.m., I turned on the T.V. and put the speaker gizmo next to Guy. Sure enough, he opened his eyes and looked one by one at the three faces focused breathlessly on him. When he closed his eyes again, I asked him whether he was having a good rest, and he gave a barely perceptible nod and then got back to the business of resting. We were all so happy. Around 4:00 this morning, something woke me, and I looked over to see Guy sitting up in bed with his eyes open. I went and sat next to him and put my cheek against his. He rubbed his head against mine very sweetly. I called Jerry to join us, and the three of us sat for a moment that way. I asked Guy if he wanted to go back to sleep, and just like that, he crawled back under the covers and comfortably drifted off.

Katie brought Guy his Christmas present yesterday, and what a spectacular gift it was: an enormous replica of the set of PeeWee's Playhouse from 1988, still in its original package. Along with the playhouse, she had procured 12 of the action figures designed to go with it - PeeWee, Globey, Magic Screen, Cowboy Curtis, Chairy, even the rare and coveted Miss Yvonne, the most beautiful woman in Puppetland!. It took Katie four months (and I shudder to think how much of her hard-earned QFC wages) to track down and secure all these treasures on eBay. Guy would have been over the moon. We can't bring ourselves to break the sacred bonds of the original packaging of the playhouse, but we've ranged the figures along the windowsill for all to admire.

Posted at 12:45 PM

Wednesday - December 13, 2006

PipSqueak proves quite useful

Koreans living for several generations in Kazakstan and at least one living in Ann Arbor have adopted the Russian tradition of having a cat enter a new home before the family has moved in so that the cat might befriend the spirit of the house, paving the way for the future happiness of its inhabitants.

a week or so ago, it was little PipSqueak who had the honor of ensuring that all would be well in the years to come for my colleague David Chung.

1. pip gets straight to work. 2. he's got his working lights on. 3. job well done, pip! i'll call your car!

Posted at 12:45 AM

Tuesday - December 12, 2006

Hi. I have a serious question.

what if it's really true that "those who can't do, teach?" Let's assume that this is not true, and that people who can do things are the people to teach others to do what they do. Let's get to the point. I've accomplished a few things creatively. Fine. Does that mean that I can teach others to do things similar to what I've done? Or to do any kind of non-utilitarian art at all? As a matter of fact, I don't even know how I've done anything I've done. Rather than thinking about the process, or planning anything in advance at all, I just start something and it's wrong wrong wrong so I try something different, and maybe it's sort of right, and I continue until it all seems really right in whatever way seems important to me at that point.

Now, I've used the words "it" and "something" and "right" many times in the paragraph above, and these are imprecise, vague terms. But if I got any more particular, I wouldn't be describing whatever it is I do. Or, I should say, I've done. Because, to tell you the truth, In 2.5 years of teaching, I've failed to understand how to manipulate the time I have to allow myself the time to continue to be productive creatively while still satisfying the requirements of teaching and being an assistant professor at a University. I've actually done lots of creation, I've been actively making things, and I've changed the visual component of my work significantly, but in all this time, I essentially have nothing to show, because I've finished nothing. I no longer can count on any length of uninterrupted time to think and to "make things right."

Posted at 07:02 PM

Tuesday - December 05, 2006

my nephew in seattle

is sixteen, and less than a year ago he began to have very bad headaches and they gave him a test and decided to operate immediately and found that he had brain cancer of the most aggressive sort.

I love that boy. He is really smart. And charming and handsome. And wry, and sweet at the same time.
This is an essay he wrote.

Posted at 07:27 PM

Tuesday - December 05, 2006

to hell with it.

This is a brave and perspicacious little girl.

but the family is poor, and all at odds with each other, you know.

Posted at 06:53 PM

Saturday - December 02, 2006

it's dark because it's nighttime

and I'm a pain in the ass to myself.

This picture- I took it three or four or five days ago, not even today, but I put it here because a picture makes me feel that I'm communicating, that I'm less constantly internal, that I have an outside and that the act of writing anything at all is a social one. With no picture the words seem austere and too comfortable in their loneliness, and I don't like that.

Posted at 11:49 PM