Three years already? Damn dude. I remember that shit like it was last night kid. I was telling Jess that I often feel guilty because I accidentally threw away that note you wrote me a few years ago. You left it on the kitchen counter the morning after I picked you up from the Econo Lodge near Burkittsville. Yeah, that weekend you were supposed to come down and stay at my house before you headed to Ohio. It was a Friday Night. I went out and bought beer, and I was waiting for you on the porch. It reminded me of when I was a little kid and I would wait for my Pops to pick me up. Each and every set of headlights got me excited, but unfortunately, none of them were yours. I tried calling your phone but it kept going to your voicemail. I thought you just forgot about me and went straight to Ohio. The weekend passed and I never heard a word from you. I went to work Monday morning puzzled. I think it was around 10 am when my phone rang. It was you! You were like, "My fucking van caught on fire and burned everything I had." I asked where you were, and you told me the Econo Lodge, which was about an hour away. I told you that I was leaving work immediately and coming to pick you up. I left work and drove up to get you. I pulled into the parking lot, got out of the car, walked to the motel room, and knocked on the door. I heard your voice, "Come in!" I opened the door and you were standing there near the mirror combing your hair like a high school cheerleader. I walked up and hugged you and we sat down and discussed what happened. You said you were on your way to my house and your girlfriend at the time was with you. You both had all of your possessions packed into your van. Your engine overheated so you quickly pulled over. As soon as you got out, it caught on fire and it spread across the entire vehicle in a matter of minutes. You both lost everything, but the fire didn't get you. Needless to say it was only a matter of time until it eventually would. We drove to the junkyard where they towed your van. We walked up to it and sifted through the charred material in hopes of salvaging something. You were able to save a few things and we placed them in black plastic bags and tossed em in my trunk. We got back in my car and blasted Type O Negative the entire way back. October Rust. From there, I took you to Record and Tape Traders, where you proceeded to buy a few Metal Albums with the little bit of money you had left. We went back to my house, drank beer in my orange basement, listened to metal, and I let you hear some of the new music I just started doing right around the Postcards From Purgatory project. We took a few pictures and you gave me a shirt with a piece of corn on it that said, "Quit Stalking Me". It was our last night together. The next morning I had to go to work. You called me and said you were locked in my basement. I don't know how you ever got out. You left for the Airport and it was the last time I saw you. I got home that afternoon and the house still smelled like fire a little bit from your trash bags. You actually went across the street to 7 Eleven and bought some groceries for us and wrote me and Jess a nice note thanking us. I'm sorry I lost it.
It's been three years since you died. I am proud to say that I think about you every day. You continue to be my motivation when it comes to my many avenues of creativity. Whenever I feel blah, I simply think of you. The fact that you're no longer able to create, makes me feel like I have an obligation to be artistic for the both of us. I will forever be in debt to you for that reason alone. I even got a tattoo on my right wrist in black and orange of the day that you died as a reminder. Sadly, the day I got it done, I found out that Peter Steele died. Now that you are both probably kicking it together, It truly is Halloween in Heaven. I miss you and I love you dear friend.
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