Monday, March 12, 2007
Blazing hot nights, cold comfort foods, and grief
Once again, it's been an action packed and highly eventful week.
First, we had Camille's going away party on Friday - another incredible night of music and good people, the kind of night that just made me feel so happy to be alive and to be part of such a vibrant community of talented and generous creative people.
And then on Saturday, just like that, our little Camille flew away to Austin, and boy, was that a buzzkill. The sadness trickled in even as the happiness lingered. And I had another show to play, this time at my friend Dylan's place - Dylan's father had just passed away earlier that week, so sadness was in the air.
And then suddenly winter became spring became summer practically overnight, and there I was on Sunday morning in the hot sunshine when I got a call that my friend and co-worker Kimio, who was only 42, had died suddenly on Friday night. Gone, just like that.
And then I proceeded to wander through my day in a bit of a stunned daze, unable to focus, unable to relax, unable to eat. By 6 pm I was feeling practically manic, and I knew that only one thing was going to make me feel right again, so I headed off to the market so that I could head home and heal my heart through chopping, slicing, and dicing...
Within a few hours and with a little help from a couple friends, I found myself sitting outside amidst candlelight and flowers, eating a meal that we had prepared together which first of all totally hit the spot on a hot night - homemade tabouli, chipotle & roasted garlic hummus, marinated tofu, and a big greek salad with orzo.
And second of all, it's a meal the Kimio would have totally appreciated, being a serious foodie and big time lover of all things chipotle. Kimio would frequently lay out these beautiful spreads of food for all of us at work - fresh mozzarella & tomatoes w/ basil, sliced baguettes, olive oil & garlic, beautiful green salads, dark chocolate covered toffee, roasted garlic croutons, stinky cheese... the man knew how to eat and he also knew how to live. And sadly for us, his life was too short.
I don't know if there's a point to this story, except perhaps that I'm grateful for every opportunity to enjoy great friends, to be able to experience incredible music and glorious food. If there's anything I learned from Kimio, it's that the little stuff is all just that - little stuff, and seriously not worth the stress. Farewell, friend... you are greatly, greatly missed.