The Moose in the Closet: Jon Wye (again) and Joe Sacco (Not the Comic Guy)

Not entirely comic related, and I pimped him two weeks ago, but my buddy Jon Wye’s new store front just went live, complete with t-shirts, intimates and the belt buckles he’s been selling (plus a new Underpants buckle!). His belt buckle was featured in this month’s Rolling Stone, in their “cool products” section or something, so we’re all pretty proud of him. And when you check out the site, give a look at the kick ass comic he wrote with art by Graham Annable. Jon will be putting up an Indy comic promotion mini-site soon, linked from his comic buckle page. If you decide to buy, tell him you sent me. He's been known to give discounts because of it.

I’m actually a little on the drunk side. This is the first time I’m writing a drunken post. Could be gold, could suck.

Let me tell you about Joe Sacco. Joe Sacco was a friend of mine in college, probably one of my better friends. He had muscular dystrophy and he always had such a positive outlook on life. I met him because I became an RA my Junior year and he was an RA as well, which really is a testament to his determination and drive. He couldn’t walk, you know? He had a scooter and a walker but he never really let that get him down. He was always smiling, always joking. Even about his own problems, he always managed to attack his MD with humor.

He had someone that helped him out at night, shower and get to bed and stuff. He even joked about that. About 25 people went out for my 21st birthday, Joe was one of them. As he was leaving he called his helper and told her to be ready for him because he’s coming back fucked up. That was just the kind of guy he was.

We were both bog X-Files fans. We went to some X-File convention together out in western Mass, we took the T all the way to the end of the line and then we traveled an additional three miles or so, on the shoulder of a major road/highway, him in his electric scooter and me hitching on the back with my roller blades. When we got to the convention he kept using his disability to our advantage. We went back stage, hung out with the Cigarette Smoking Man (who treated Joe like a 5 year old kid – it was kind of funny), got autographs and free shit, just good times.

That’s what Joe was, good times. There was rarely a bad time. And I was there for him too, you know? One day he was riding home in his scooter in a thunderstorm and tried to cut through a huge puddle. His scooter shorted out. Someone pushed him home and I took a look at his scooter, found the problem, ordered a new part and fixed it up for him. Joe as practically crying he was so grateful. And that’s just the kind of guy he was.

There really isn’t a sad part to this story, as I’m writing it I feel like I’m building to it but it really isn’t there. This feels like the kind of story that has a “Joe died on…” but that’s not the case.

It’s sad in the fact that Joe represents one of the things I always do wrong. There are some friends I keep in touch with, without a doubt. G, Guam, Max…amongst others. But Joe sort of represents this lazy trend I have where I just sort of give up. I always had this leaving complex, I always felt like people left me at some point. I dealt with a lot of death, I’ll be getting to them. And not old age and shit like that, I watched people die….I saw death many times. And I always thought this fear of people leaving me came out of it.

But Joe is proof that it’s me that does it; it’s more of a push than someone leaving. Joe wrote me a Christmas card the year after he left college. I never responded. I never talked to him after he graduated. I just cut him off like he never existed. The thing is, for every friend I kept in touch with, I can account for ten or fifteen people I didn’t even bother with.

Eh, I don’t know, this is what you get when I drink. I’ve just been thinking about Joe quite a bit. I’ve been thinking about a lot of my friends that I lost tough with. Jackie, Mary, Andy, Chris, Rany…there would be so many more if it wasn’t for the friends I did keep I touch with keeping in touch with the people I should be keeping in touch with.

This isn’t me bitching. This is my unfurling my life, piece by piece, like I’ve been doing for the past month. Ebb and Flow, Jorge called it; all my stories don’t involve hookers and alcohol. But, stories like this only come out with the help of alcohol.

turn off the metallica, fanboy: I, Phantom

Labels: mitc

Jon Wye (again) and Joe Sacco (Not the Comic Guy)

Thursday, March 03, 2005

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