Soon it will be a year since my cousin died. He unexpectedly passed away on October 3^rd, 2015. He was only a few days away from his 30th birthday. I was crushed. I have a few things I want to say about him. He was a great person with a dream. He wanted to make art, and he went all in for it. It was fucking beautiful.

Before I met my relatives that lived in Walla Walla, I remember having a conversation with my mom. I was very young so I’ll paraphrase what I think happened. My mom told me that my aunt, uncle, and cousins were coming into town from Washington for some holiday. I didn’t know what or where Washington was yet, so I looked at her and asked something along the lines of “do they speak English?” My mom looked at me and laughed.  She went on to inform me that yes, they did, and that Washington was part of the United States. My geography skills were not solid as a child.

Over the next decade, every time I had the opportunity to see David he was a huge influence on me. He was my older cousin that was the cool kid that I wanted to be. David liked skateboarding, so I liked skateboarding. David was into pop-punk, so I was into pop-punk. He knew about all these cool things I had never heard of. David accidentally left a t shirt at my parents’ house during one of his visits. It was an Ataris t shirt from the End is Forever tour. He had introduced me to the Ataris before, and I had already fallen in love with them.  I told him he’d left it, and he told me to keep it. I wore it for at least 6 years. I wore it until it didn’t really fit anymore. I wore it until there were multiple holes in it. It was my favorite shirt for a long time. Without his influence early in my life I wouldn’t have had the context to make some of the longest lasting friendships I’ve had in my life. I’m very grateful for that.

Life works in a weird way. People go to college, start living their own lives, and you kind of lose touch. You get wrapped up in your day to day, and sometimes that’s all you deal with. Luckily, I got the opportunity to get to know David as an adult. I didn’t get to do if for long enough though. He was a beautiful person. He seemed like he cared about everyone. I’m trying my best to care about everyone I know in a similar way. I traveled a long way, and dealt with a lot of things to get to his memorial service. Talking to his friends, his girlfriend, and the family that we shared was heartbreaking. It was clear that David had a passion for life that rubbed off on a lot of people. He was living his life to a level that most people would be envious of.

From what I could tell, David loved three things in particular: art, the people in his life, and Bud Light Limes. He was the kind of guy who spent twelve (this is a guess, I’m not sure how many Christmas Eve’s it was) straight Christmas Eve’s delivering Christmas cards to everyone he knew in his hometown with a bit of snow he and his friends picked up from behind the ice rink. He was also the kind of guy who did that but didn’t bring it up. I didn’t even know he did it until his friend Pete talked about it at the memorial service. That is a nicer thing than I think I’ve ever done for anyone.

David had one of the weirdest jobs of anyone I’ve ever met. Dave made books, but he didn’t make them the way people make books now. He made books like people made them 300 years ago. All of the type was cast by hand with lead, all of the pages were hand set, each page was put into the press individually, and every single binding was hand sewn. The result was a beautiful work of art. He was in love with the process.

One of my favorite weekends in my life was with David. My friend Mike and I had both recently gotten out of relationships and needed some time away, so I suggested that we go visit my cousin in San Francisco. We flew in and took a pretty long walk to the printing shop Dave was working. He gave us a tour of the business and you could see a spark in his eye. He loved what he did. Later in the weekend he showed us the press in his garage and the type casting equipment he had acquired. He later turned all that equipment into his own printing business. They made some really cool things. I own a print they made. It’s hanging on my wall, and it reminds me of him every day.

San Francisco is one of my favorite cities I’ve ever been to. Now, I’m not sure if I loved the city, or if David was just a really good host. My favorite part of the weekend was seeing the Painted Lady houses from Full House, then buying 40s at the corner store and walking up what seemed like a mountain in a local park. It was raining and I wasn’t dressed for it. I didn’t care. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been happier than I was in that moment. Sitting at the base of a tree, looking out over the city lights, and talking about life with two great people was one of the best things I’ve done in my life. I’m glad I got to live that moment.

I also got to meet David’s girlfriend when I went to San Francisco. She’s a rad girl, and I love her a lot. I only got to spend a little bit of time with her then, and I didn’t see her again until Walla Walla. She’s the best, and I got to see her again at my brother’s wedding. I don’t know how she feels about me, but as far as I’m concerned that girl is family.

A little while after David past, I sent an abridged version of this to his mom and dad. They had some things to add. David was the kid in high school who had a dozen people over every day after school.  He was a natural leader. That showed in his work. He started a company in a mostly dead art-form and he put out a bunch of really cool things. I’d like to think that if he’d had the time he would have dominated the art form.

“Creativity is what we make. Some folk’s creativity comes out of their ability to make music, paint cars, build engines, make lifelong friendships, lead a climbing exposition, or create teams to accomplish things.”
– Bob Johnston (David’s Father)

I guess what I’m trying to say is that David was an incredible person. He lived with passion. I’m glad I got the chance to know him. He made me want to create more. I don’t really know how to do that so I wrote this because I don’t really have a talent creating things outside of words in a stupid Microsoft document. I think I’m going to finish this with a statement directed to the one and only David Johnston.

David, you are a beautiful person. The passion you lived your life with, and the drive you had to pursue your goals was incredible. You were the kind of person that made me consult a thesaurus because the only adjective to describe you that I could think of was beautiful. I’m glad I got to know you, but I’m sad I didn’t know you better. I love you, man. You were so willing to accept and include my friend that moved to San Francisco not knowing a single person who lived there. You didn’t need to do that, but you did it anyway. You made the hell out of some books. You were a great cousin, an even better friend, and I’m sorry we weren’t closer. You touched a lot of lives, and I will never forget you. I’ll never drink or see another Bud light Lime without thinking of you. I’ma make the hell out of some art in your memory, and then keep making it because I think that’s what you would have wanted. I miss you bro.

 

I’ve been sitting in this drawer for months. I wish he wouldn’t eat donuts every day. He can’t even fit me over his sweaty man tits. If he can’t wear me out and about, how is he going to show the world how much he loved Def Leppard back in ‘88? Hysteria was huge. People still care about that album, right?

This guy got me drug out of the merch pile in Little Rock, Arkansas back on February 8th of 1988. He was sixteen years old. I’ve been there for most of the most important days of his life. The first time he fondled a boob: check. The first time he got drunk: check. He was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt the first time he got high though. I’ll never forgive him for that. I was supposed to be there, but I didn’t make it into the laundry the week before.

I was there over the next few years. I was there for college, and for the early part of his career. I haven’t been around as much since. Sure I’m a little beat up now. I’ve got a few holes, and I’m thinner than I used to be. That doesn’t make me less of a shirt, does it?

I’m still the shirt I was when he bought me. At least I still feel like I am. I’m a little weathered now. I definitely show my age, but I’m still the same shirt. I don’t know how we’ve spent this much time together, and he’s still just cast me aside. It isn’t fair. You give your whole life to one person, and then one day you just feel abandoned. You’re cast aside for a newer, brighter shirt. A shirt that hasn’t been dulled by the sun. A shirt that doesn’t have holes worn into it from a belt. A shirt that doesn’t understand that the world is going to chew it up and spit it out.

I don’t know why he won’t get rid of me. I don’t know if it’s the memories we made, or if he’s just too lazy to drive to Goodwill. I don’t want to sit around and wait for it to be my turn to be worn again. I don’t have that much time left before I’m worn out, until I’m too old to be relevant anymore. I’m just a shirt trying to make the most of the time it’s got left. I just want someone to give me a chance.

This is a thing about moving to Pittsburgh. I’ve tried to write this three times, but I never quite got to where I wanted to. I think the problem I’ve had is that I don’t actually want this to be only about moving to Pittsburgh. I want to talk about my family, my old apartment, and a couple of other things .I never thought I would move out of Fort Collins, but here I am three years later. I think the best place to start is the first time I moved out of my parents place.

I was twenty years old. My brother was about to go live in the dorms at Colorado State. I had been attending CSU for about two years at that point, and I didn’t want him to beat me at moving out. I found a place with a couple of friends, and we moved in. It was shitty, but it was ours. 730 Tyler Street. We had a lot of fun there.

Right before we moved in I remember being at the 7-11 on Prospect and Lemay with my Dad. It was an emotional moment. We fight a little bit, because we are very much the same person, and we always have been. I don’t remember exactly what we were arguing about, but I’m sure it was because I was being a cocky 20 year old.

My dad and I got out of the car. I’ll never forget what happened next. He looked at me and said something along the lines of “I’m sorry. You moving out has been harder for me than I thought it would be.” That was the first time I remember seeing my dad cry. I talked to my mom about this today, and she was apparently unaware that this had happened. Sorry to blow your cover, dad. It was a moment I didn’t appreciate until a few years later.

I lived at a number of places while I was in Fort Collins. My favorite was definitely the apartment I shared with my brother while he was in grad school. That’s also the last apartment I lived in during my stay in Fort Collins.. My parent’s were nice enough to help me move out of it. I was in no way prepared to do it, so it was probably a lot more work than they were expecting.

Once we got everything packed, I took a minute to go see if “we cleared everything out.” Really I just wanted to go inside and have a minute to say goodbye to my favorite place I’d ever lived. I mostly just walked around and cried. It was a real end of an era kind of thing.

I spent my last night as a Fort Collins resident in my childhood bedroom. It was a long night. The next morning I had to say goodbye to my parents. That wasn’t that hard, I could at least pretend to be okay. Then I had to say goodbye to their dog.  Kneeling down and saying goodbye to little Riley was fucking rough. I knew there was no way I could explain to him what was happening. That was heartbreaking. I know it’s silly because he’s a dog, but I did a really got job of keeping it together until I had to say goodbye to him. He still does a really good job of excitedly attacking me whenever he sees me, so I don’t think he has any hard feelings.

I only drove a little way down the road before I pulled over. I had a wall of emotions to deal with before I got on the highway. I pulled a U Haul for 23 hours over the next two days. I didn’t know anyone in Pittsburgh before I moved there, so I had to call a moving company to get some help unloading all my things. The night before I got there I pulled off and checked into a motel, because I realized that even if I made it into my place, I would have to sleep on the floor. My mattress was packed all the way in the back of my Uhaul, and there was no way I was getting it out alone. That was my first night in Pennsylvania. I slept in some shitty ass motel just across the Ohio border.

I’ve lived here for three years now, and I feel a lot of ways about it.

I love the city of Pittsburgh. I love it more than I love living here. If that’s makes any sense. This city is super fun and there are always things to do. I’ve done a terrible job of making friends, but I also haven’t been super out going. Pittsburgh and I have spent some rough times together. One of the worst weekends of my recent life was here. If you know me well enough to read this, then you probably know what I’m talking about. That was rough. It was the second time I’ve told my brother that someone we cared about passed away.

Luckily, I’m just a short walk from a riverside view of what has become one of my favorite skylines in the country. I’ve got a little spot I like to go to and look over the city I live in now. It’s really just a sidewalk, but it’s my current favorite place. It’s beautiful. You can see all of downtown and all of the lights. It might not be the safest place to be alone at night, but it’s probably my favorite place to be.

My friends might not be here, but I am. My family might not be here, but I am. I’m going to keep trying to see what this city has to offer. Before I leave this place I’m going to let it chew me up and spit me out. I’m going to smoke this city to the filter. Pittsburgh is dope, and I’m going all in.

Hey, Steel City, let’s get weird. I’m going to make you love me as much as I love you.