Povert

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One Month Later

It’s been one month since Eric killed himself.

I’ve been using euphemisms in posts and tweets until now, but it seems weird to keep doing that.

It’s been an odd month.  I don’t quite know what to make of it.  I’ll just say: anyone who’s had to deal with a friend or family member killing their self knows how strange the aftermath is.  It’s sad and awful, but you keep going.  And it’s just  strange.

We’ve had a page up for Eric on Flapping Crane since a few days after he died.  That page has been the home page.  We’re going to stop making it the home page later today, and we’re going to debut a new skit.  I don’t know how this should work, so I’m just doing it.  It’s kind of like the video I put together for his family.  At a certain point, debates about how sad or happy the music was became irrelevant, because there was no right answer.  And I don’t think there is a right time to get back to dick jokes, but we’re just going to do it, damn it.

It’s weird and screwed up, but this has revitalized us.  I don’t know if it’s a fear of our own mortality, or guilt, or what.  I don’t know if this will be short-lived or if this is the start of another long period of creative output.  I’d like to think it’s us realizing that we’re only here for a short time and we should do what we can with what we have.  I’ve never been under any illusion that these stupid skits will get us anywhere.  I’ve only put up skits when they’ve made me and the rest of the guys laugh, and we have stupid, idiotic senses of humor.  But the point is we’ve been shooting.  A lot.  They’re all short, granted, but some of them have been in the works for years.

I don’t know how to do any of this.  I didn’t know the etiquette on Facebook and Twitter, I didn’t know what to say to his family and I don’t know what to even think of it or what to put on the site.  I’m alternately depressed and a little angry.  But mostly, right now, I almost feel nothing.  I’ve spent the last month capturing footage from the past 6 years, and his suicide doesn’t feel real.  I see him every day, cracking jokes, making stupid faces, busting us up with his insane humor.  He’s not dead to me yet.  He’s just gone.

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