I lost a friend two weeks ago and this is for him.
David read my blogs. He came to every show I had in NYC since we met in June of 2019. In many ways and like most people, he remained half drenched in mystery to me, cloaked by the time we had yet to continue knowing each other. Though, this year we really did start to get to know each other.
Seems everyone I’ve cared about in my life who smokes cigarettes smokes Marlboro Red. They are one of the few brands of cancer stick who’s smell doesn’t totally bother me and David smoked them all day long. He was someone who I fought opening up to, after all he struck me as rather strange, out of the ordinary, and my skeptical psyche felt uneasy about piecing together why. Alas, we began landscaping regularly together last spring. Over coffee, dirt, weeds, greasy Mexican lunches, and in-between overgrown shrubs and trees I started to recognize a light in David, beneath his everyday straw hat.
When I say he was out of the ordinary I mean first off, he was very intelligent. He carried himself and his wonder comfortably throughout this endless city with a steam engine work ethic, plethora of creative ideas about anything, and undying sense of humor. I saw him as generally unbothered by situations most people would deem unfortunate or disgusting. He looked at them constructively, thickening his skin. In fact, he never wore gloves, noting his goal to allow his hands to ‘become like leather’ and be able to withstand the rest of the season’s work. Once he stopped in Chinatown for 2 lobsters to make for himself at home. He texted me that night saying he ate both of them and a whole pecan pie, amounting in over 10,000 calories. I think I was already asleep from the day of work. He was a gentle giant who landscaped almost every day. He found both dogs and little fuzzy spiders too cute to stand. He loved artists and befriended artists of all ages all over the city. He was matter of fact and selectively motivated. I began to see his potential for doing anything he wanted to as exceedingly high. I can’t say that he cared.
In the last few months we talked a lot about depression, passion, isolation, intelligence and the deeper pains of our lives. If anything, his unexpected passing has brought me more into the gray area of life – where I must throw my hands up as if to say, I am not the jury, nor the judge of how life should look or how it should play out. I am melancholily gray, grateful to have so many lessons to learn as I continue to reflect on my observations of David and his now concluded life.