Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Thanks for being, Jams

Time flies.
There has happened so much within the past four years.
On this planet.

In my life.
And no detail, no episode I could share with The Poor Mouth.
Today, four years ago my friend Jams died.

There's nothing to add to what I wrote seven days later, on the day he could have celebrated his 50th birthday: 

Thanks for being, Jams.


  1. Dear Jams,
    This old lady is missing you dreadfully.
    With tears....

  2. I still miss Jams too. It seems like only yesterday...

    1. Yes, like yesterday.
      Today is his 54th birthday.
      I hope Jams will spent a great day with Mimi, Flann, Officer Pluck et. al.. ...

    2. and I hope he's decided never to return, and instead wait for the rest of us.

    3. So be it, although when imagining all he could have written / might be writing, alone about the idiots in Ankara and the White House, and their afficionades ... :)

  3. I never know what to say about such issues. I am sorry that he has gone. I am glad that he evidently did not suffer more than a moment, and does not have to endure any lingering decline of the form discussed here recently. Maybe what I should say about such issues is just nothing, but then I would feel rude.

    1. 'I never know' ... Same with me, Andrew. However, it seems I tend to keep certain dates and events in my mind, and I like the thought that when I am dead one or two persons would now and then fondly think of me, tell others, and thus keep me ... hm ... alive.

      Well, we shall see once we – Claude, Susan, Jams, you, and I – are 'sitting' together. We might be chuckling about those who remember us but just have no clue ... :)

    2. Were that to happen, I suspect Claude would be chuckling the most... But Re "we shall see", I rather suspect that we won't see, and the damn annoying thing is we won't be able to say, "see, I told you so." :), or perhaps that should be :(