There was so much he could have done if it wasn't for his demons. But then, if he wasn't such a lovely, funny, gentle, clever man who was hurting so much it made him ill, he wouldn't have been the man he was.
I still feel so sick about this. I was talking to a friend and we agreed that one of the problems was that he's everywhere. His work was so peppered with things that changed the way you saw the everyday. I can't turn the tap on without thinking of that voice and seeing jewellery coming out, or see a horse without their legs as 4 brown shotguns. I really wish he was still with us but then I remember one of the lines from That's Just The Way I Feel
"But this kind of hurtin' won’t heal
And the end of all wanting
Is all I've been wanting"
and I kind of feel that he'd done his best, left us with some of the best, most beautiful and brilliant lyrics and poetry and decided to just opt out, as tragic as that feels. I certainly see why people invented an afterlife as the thought of him elsewhere, feeling better and looking at how loved he is would be tremendously consoling. But there's not and it isn't.
These pictures are nice, if only because it's a chance to look at some of the great lines from his poetry. Would post but don't know how to resize and they're all superjumbo.
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/21/books/review/tamara-shopsin-david-berman.html?module=inline