I’m sorry to pass on this news. I can’t tell you how very sorry I am.
Jon Gaasenbeek is dead.
He hung himself on the back of his bedroom door. His family held a service in Ontario. I’m considering holding one here. I’ve left my number where he was living for anyone who calls. I have his mothers address, if you would like it, please e-mail me. He meant very much to me. I’m sorry.
I remember, I used to be like this. There was a very basic lack of understanding that still persists in curious ways. Of course, in very many ways I’m no different. I’m missing your filters. I’m still the same, but more myself. The deepening of soul and senses, it’s like learning. I don’t want to be like you, but I want to understand you. I want my communication to work. I’m AIDS generation. I’m this and that and not the same.
I suspect that the younger folk in the article will fall into the flesh later, though I continue to hold that preferance colours opinion. The body can be wretchedly annoying.
All in my mind.