Gimme a Wild Turkey on the rocks... in memoriam.

On Saturday night, I was writing this entry in my head about my breakup with Trevor that happened that morning. I was going to write about fundamentals versus circumstances and isn't everything just a result of circumstance? On Sunday afternoon, I drove over to Allegra's for some BSG after spending the morning moving from couch to bed to couch (unable to decide whether to continue sleeping or crying). I had been told it would take a while for my Spicy Chicken Sandwich at the Wendy's drive through, so could I please just park my car by the sign and we'll bring it out to you in a minute? Sure. My phone rang. It was Debbie, a friend I hadn't heard from in a while. Happy to see her name on my phone, I picked up with a jubliant "Hey!"

She told me James had died.

James was Jenny's boyfriend, but above that, he was a dear friend to everyone in Jenny's life. Once Jenny and James met, we all knew that Jenny had found her match. This boisterous, ambitious, loud-mouthed, but extremely loving and generous tattooed teddy bear who would never let you say no to an invite out, always insisted you have another drink, and before you could protest, it was sitting in front of you, taken care of. And James would be smiling at you with a smirk you couldn't refuse, his glass held high for you to clink your own against. A Wild Turkey on the rocks. James is the guy who got me to appreciate bourbon/whiskey/scotch (though I'm still a novice) and tried his best to get me to say YES to life. Because that's how he lived: YES to friends, to late nights out, to glorious food, to things that one should probably say no to, but James said yes because, as his myspace quote goes, "Eat, Drink, and Be Merry for tomorrow we may all be dead!" He said YES to life. And his was cut short by a heart attack at 37 years old.

James was the chef at Delmonicos Steak House in NYC and had several other high profile restaurants under his belt. Time Out NY even featured him in an article about Ginger, the healthy Chinese cuisine restaurant he helped launch in East Harlem. Here's a video of him talking about it. He had a passion for food and it showed every time Jenny had a party and James would create a spread that would spin your head. He treated me, Trevor, the Jacksons, and our other friends to fabulous multi-course meals at Delmonicos on several occasions and he always took so much pride in the delicious meal he served his friends.

I didn't always get along with James. Whether it was because of my possessiveness over Jenny, who is one of my best friends, and the rocky road their relationship took in the beginning or whether it was because James and I are both strong, hotheaded, opinionated personalities, I didn't always appreciate him. But he worked hard to win me over and talked to me a handful of times about how much he loved Jenny and wanted to take care of her and thanking me for accepting him in my and her life. It became quickly apparent that James was one of the best guys for Jenny in many ways. I have seen few couples that laughed and loved as hard and as loud as they did.

I just talked to Jenny a couple of hours ago, only the second time I have done so since I moved. I'm sorry that she and I have not been in better contact and that we've allowed our lives to get so busy that this is the circumstance under which we express our love for each other. She expressed her gratitude that James died knowing she loved him and that was his wish.

I will, like Rob, getting myself some bourbon tonight and drinking to James Marshall's awesome life in which I am so lucky to have been a part. And to any of James' friends that are reading, bless all of you and much love and healing to you. I am working on getting out to the funeral in NY this Friday.

R.I.P., James.



photo by Rob Boudon

See you in 2277

So, I was just IMing with the Doc a minute ago and we were talking about my flu last week and how I have the opposite of AIDS and an immune system of steel (usually). And I claimed that I'm going to live for a very long time provided I don't off myself. Then it clicked: the key to my peace of mind is not living each day like it's my last. That's too much pressure. It makes me feel like I'm wasting my life every day because truly, if I was going to live each day like it was my last, I WOULDN'T BE WORKING A FUCKING DESK JOB. Or working AT ALL. That's the issue I have with those "chicken soup for the soul" nuggets of advice like "live each day like it's your last." What does that even mean? Because if I was doing that - I'd rob a bank (without killing anyone) and hop on the next flight to Australia - wait, scratch that, the flight would take my entire day - the next flight to the Caribbean, get my ass on a beach with a double Jameson on the rocks (I need a new whiskey, I know), and just sit in the sun with my toes in the water. But then, there's the other side of the coin, which is telling me to save for retirement and plan for the future and invest and the like. Which is it, all-knowing Illuminati? Do I live for today or live for the future?

I think when they say to "live for today," it's all about just being a good person. I'm going to have to sit at my desk job today because in the probable world I'm still going to wake up tomorrow and have to go to work, so I best ensure I have still have a job by not running off to Aruba after robbing a bank. But I will also be around my co-workers tomorrow, so I'm going to smile and say "please" and "thank you" and make jokes and listen to them over-explain things and write my little blogs because I like doing that stuff. It's easy and it allows me to think about conquering the world with the important stuff I want to say on stage. I will live like today is my last day - as in I will be the best person I can be so that in a few days at my funeral, I will have so many loving friends, family, and admirers there talk about what an awesome person I was and how I have inspired them to be better people too. That's it: live today like your funeral will be in 3 days. My friend's cousin's life got cut short yesterday in a fatal car crash. That guy probably woke up that morning thinking, or not thinking, about how it was probably going to be a normal day. One of death's mysteries that I've always wondered... do people know that they're going to die right before it happens? And I'm not even talking about being-tied-to-a-conveyor-belt-that-is-leading-you-to-a-saw-that-will-cut-you-in-half-lengthwise knowledge of imminent death, but is there a moment in the hour preceding an unpredictable death when the victim is like, "This is it?"

Anyway, so out of this IM conversation, I came up with the secret: live like you're gonna live to be 300 years old. There's this sage comfort in knowing you're going to be around for a long time. I don't like being 30 and thinking I'm almost halfway through my given lifespan. That's crazy. Life as we know it is indeed too short. But thinking I'm going to be around for years and years puts no rush on things. I can feel free to relax and enjoy my friends and my life. There's not a constant buzzing of "go go go!!!" But I guess if I realized how easy it was to do things, that buzzing would go away anyway.

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I mentioned that I hoped I missed the first death and I think I did.

A friend of mine worked with this woman and just recently found out about her death.

So sad. So so sad.