“When Kurt died I was lost. I was numb. The music I had devoted my life to had now betrayed me. I had no voice. I turned off the radio. I put away my drums. I couldn’t bear to hear someone else’s voice singing about pain, or joy.” - Keynote Speech at SXSW 2013 in AustinThis is my story.
Darthaniel Black is no longer with us. He passed away a year ago, and I all but stopped writing. It was a stroke. I was with him in his hospital room when he left this world. With his family. It was both heart-wrenching and an incredible honor for me as a person, and a testament to our enduring friendship and closeness.
So here I am.
I don't know what I am going to do, review, read, or what. I lost my review site and brought back a smaller version, but that has been sitting around as I pondered. He was just as much as E-Read as I was, and you may have seen him in many of my reviews and stories as my comic foil and straightman.
He was someone I read each review to before I posted them. My second ear. My bounce-person. Someone with a good sense of style and judgment who always had a great idea, or gave me another perspective that I did not consider.
But here I am. Dust-covered and crawling out of a pile of rubble. Broken, battered, bleeding, and bruised like some superhero in an action movie who just survived the impossible.
I am not invincible. I am imperfect. I am human.
And our weaknesses and imperfections make us beautiful.
I know I am going to write. I need to. This is my life.
What, I don't know.