A Whitechaplain is dead, and the whole world is emptier for it, even though most don’t know it.
I know this won’t mean much to most of you guys. The long and short of it is, a friend from the first place on the internet I ever felt at home has died recently. I’m not sure what the official C of D will be listed as, but it was heroin addiction that killed him. Addiction and a bastard world that didn’t deserve him, and rarely appreciated him.
A friend of his says that this song was among his favorites.
So, here’s to you, Flecky. To borrow a phrase from Dr. Thompson, he was one of God’s own prototypes. Too weird to live, too rare to die. Sleep well, man.
I knew this guy from Whitechapel. It sucks that he’s gone
Lita Cabellut: Trilogy of the Doubt #01, 2013.
Shame | Ingmar Bergman | 1968
Page 1 of 391