01/26/08

I came to the PC Bang today to write something about my friend, who passed away one year ago today. I had no idea what I was going to write, how I was going to write it, or what I was going to accomplish by doing this, but I was going to it anyways. It needed to be done.

At no point during the past year have I really shared a story which properly captured his memory. I didn't splash the walls of any of the memorial facebook groups that were created, like many of our friends did. I didn't drop a tale into my blog. I really didn't do anything to characterize what type of person he was at all. I merely rhymed off about how much I drank, how much nail polish I bought, and how dearly I needed a dose of comedy. Because that's what I'm good at.

Being snarky, cracking inappropriate jokes, providing way too much information, unexpectedly dorking out, indulging my own whims and just generally acting like a cartoon character; these are the things at which I rule. The emotional infancy which makes me occasionally, accidentally hilarious, crippled me from addressing this appropriately.

I don't lack Kyle stories. The last time I shared one was the morning that I heard of his death. I was on the train ride home from what was probably another epic night in Daegu, when somehow he came up in conversation. While I kept in touch with him somewhat after first arriving here, I hadn't thrown around too many At Home stories with the New Folk. For whatever reason I was inspired to rhyme off a series of nicknames that he had managed to earn himself, as my train friend stared blankly, wondering why I was thinking out loud again.

When I arrived home an hour or so later, I found The Urgent Email from a former coworker of both of ours demanding that I call home. Unlike another friend of ours, I was fortunate enough to catch the email and learn the news over the telephone before catching one of dozens of affected facebook status messages. Bless Facebook and all the time wasting that she's allowed me, but that's no way to learn of a death.

One of the last times I remember hanging out with Kyle, he was watching a random snippet from Borat. I wasn't that interested and frankly can't remember a thing about that movie. What I do remember is the inexplicable joy that he got from watching Random Scene for the 42nd time.

I came here today to write something in memory of him, and all I've done is spend the last four hours immersing myself in episodes of Seinfeld (Soup Nazi!), Arrested Development (Never nude! Analrapist!), and How I Met Your Mother (Legen...dary!). I read some articles on Cracked and Unreality. I skimmed xkcd. I kept crawling the internet in search of more Funny, thinking that somehow this would make everything okay.

I accidentally came across some laughs in the form of an Avery Taking Meditation Classes headline. First, Sean Avery is an epic, legendary douche. I want to have beers with him, just so that I can listen to him Douche Off for a few hours. My life is as Douche Rich as the next guy's, but Avery takes Awesomely Douchey to a whole new level, one which I can only dream of encountering in the Real World. Still, in spite of the fact that I think Sean Avery is epically awesome in a doucheworthy way... this is what passes as a headline on Sports Illustrated these days? Really? Given that this is coming from the same network of sites that brought us Incest Dungeon Teen Wants to See Ocean, I probably shouldn't feign surprise.

And that brings me to now.

I just spent four hours in a PC Bang searching for words. When my own words failed me, I sought laughter in the words of others. While I undoubtedly failed to find the same level of inexplicable joy that Kyle found in Borat that night, I like to think that I came close. Perhaps this wasn't an exercise in futility after all?