Brick Conway

Sometimes minor characters end up playing roles in one's life.

I was thinking the other day about Brick Conway (from Oregon? or Washington?), a guy I knew a la Universidad de Costa Rica back in 1990 or so. He was a solid, compact anglo/latino guy.

Brick (his real name) lived in a house with Jo Ellen (a cool woman that had a biker chick vibe, even if she didn't have a bike) and Janel and Dave (wicked clever and obsessive punker). Did he live there? Maybe he just hung out there, like I did. Did Dave and Brick live in the house at the same time? When did Jo's boyfriend move in? Memory fades so quickly.

Brick had brought a collection of photos of his friends from the States with him to Costa Rica. At one point, I asked him about it. To me, it seemed like a waste. Why would one choose to carry around photos? He said that he liked to be able to see his friends' faces.

Up until that point, I'd never really taken any photographs. I didn't see the value in it. It seemed like a middle-class waste of time. Ever since Brick and Costa Rica, I've picked up the habit of annually pulling out the camera to take pictures of all my friends, just so that I have a record of who we were. So Brick changed me in that small way.

And he was right, of course. My suitcase of photos is a prized posession.

I also remember that one day we had an argument in the house about the correct proportions of rice and water to make rice. Brick thought was one to one (which is, of course, wrong).

Oh, and I think he juggled. Or was that Dave? No, it was definitely Brick. In either case, the juggler (be it Brick or Dave) had brought a ton of gear with the idea that he would perform for kids. I thought that was the coolest thing.

Memory is a strange thing. I don't know why those memories should be the memories that remain 15 years later.

My memory fades faster than most, I think. Even though I can't remember much of that year, I know that before that year I was on one course, and after I was on another. That was the year I first began to learn that I could be strong. It was also the year that I learned that I didn't have to try so hard to be strange.

But, most importantly, it was the year I started taking photos of my friends.

untitled (death)

S: Hey
Q: yo
S: How was the weekend?
Q: good
Q: went to a megatech friend's wedding on saturday
Q: and my roomies b-day dinner was sat night too
S: cool
Q: working on side project
Q: the only thing keeping me technically sharp nowadays
Q: and yourself?
S: Weekend was very strange
S: I was at a friend's house, trying to be helpful, since his brother just died.
S: I'm not ready for this grown up stuff.
S: I'm still a little weirded out by the whole thing.
Q: grown up stuff?
S: Well, death, for example.
Q: ah ic
Q: what thoughts were going through your mind
S: I guess I was worried about saying the wrong thing, about making things worse for my friend.
S: Plus, he was crying. I've never seen any guy cry before.
S: Phew.
Q: really?
Q: have you ever cried?
S: Sure, but, not in front of anyone else. I'm a WASP, after all.
S: It is not done in my culture.
Q: ic
Q: yea death always brings all those weird thoughts to the surface
S: Anyway, I guess I just needed to vent a little bit. Sorry.
Q: its all good
Q: u can vent anytime :)

Chuck G R.I.P.

My heart goes out the family of Chuck G, who failed to revive from a traumatic head injury.

I knew him as a hard person, fun, abrasive, tough. He knew his own mind and had the courage of his convictions. He was an open person, ready to judge more on character than on appearance.

He will be missed.

Prayers especially for his pregnant girlfriend Elizabeth.

Mountaintop Dawn

After a late start and some brutal uphill, we found ourselves a camping spot just below Manzanita Flats in San Gorgonio. Sun set and we crashed out. Before dawn, I saw a starry sky. In the early morning, we descended easily, liberated from the weight of all our food and water.