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Fairport Convention - Meet On The Ledge
In 2006, I posted this: everyone who's died that you love takes a piece of you with them. and on some days there's so much of me on the other side that I feel like a ghost myself; weak, thin, insubstantial and clinging stubbornly to a world I no longer have the right to walk in.
Today has been one of those days. I had intended to post on the 15th, to mark my best friend's birthday. But I feel your presence so strongly right now, and you didn't care about birthdays.
Everyone should have a friend like you: one you can trust to the bone, through sickness, fire and water and disaster and joy and everything in between. You showed me and taught me so much; we went through so much together and you always, always had my back. We saved each other every day in little ways and big ones.
I would give anything to have you here now. I miss you so fucking much; and I know if you were alive somewhere and read this, you would be surprised, because you did not love or believe in yourself although John and I loved and believed in you. I wish it had been possible to convince you to. And yet you helped me save myself; I could not have done it without you. I would have given anything to give you the will to save yourself too.
Love you.
In 2006, I posted this: everyone who's died that you love takes a piece of you with them. and on some days there's so much of me on the other side that I feel like a ghost myself; weak, thin, insubstantial and clinging stubbornly to a world I no longer have the right to walk in.
Today has been one of those days. I had intended to post on the 15th, to mark my best friend's birthday. But I feel your presence so strongly right now, and you didn't care about birthdays.
Everyone should have a friend like you: one you can trust to the bone, through sickness, fire and water and disaster and joy and everything in between. You showed me and taught me so much; we went through so much together and you always, always had my back. We saved each other every day in little ways and big ones.
I would give anything to have you here now. I miss you so fucking much; and I know if you were alive somewhere and read this, you would be surprised, because you did not love or believe in yourself although John and I loved and believed in you. I wish it had been possible to convince you to. And yet you helped me save myself; I could not have done it without you. I would have given anything to give you the will to save yourself too.
Love you.
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Fairport Convention - Meet On The Ledge
In 2006, I posted this: everyone who's died that you love takes a piece of you with them. and on some days there's so much of me on the other side that I feel like a ghost myself; weak, thin, insubstantial and clinging stubbornly to a world I no longer have the right to walk in.
Today has been one of those days. I had intended to post on the 15th, to mark my best friend's birthday. But I feel your presence so strongly right now, and you didn't care about birthdays.
Everyone should have a friend like you: one you can trust to the bone, through sickness, fire and water and disaster and joy and everything in between. You showed me and taught me so much; we went through so much together and you always, always had my back. We saved each other every day in little ways and big ones.
I would give anything to have you here now. I miss you so fucking much; and I know if you were alive somewhere and read this, you would be surprised, because you did not love or believe in yourself although John and I loved and believed in you. I wish it had been possible to convince you to. And yet you helped me save myself; I could not have done it without you. I would have given anything to give you the will to save yourself too.
Love you.
In 2006, I posted this: everyone who's died that you love takes a piece of you with them. and on some days there's so much of me on the other side that I feel like a ghost myself; weak, thin, insubstantial and clinging stubbornly to a world I no longer have the right to walk in.
Today has been one of those days. I had intended to post on the 15th, to mark my best friend's birthday. But I feel your presence so strongly right now, and you didn't care about birthdays.
Everyone should have a friend like you: one you can trust to the bone, through sickness, fire and water and disaster and joy and everything in between. You showed me and taught me so much; we went through so much together and you always, always had my back. We saved each other every day in little ways and big ones.
I would give anything to have you here now. I miss you so fucking much; and I know if you were alive somewhere and read this, you would be surprised, because you did not love or believe in yourself although John and I loved and believed in you. I wish it had been possible to convince you to. And yet you helped me save myself; I could not have done it without you. I would have given anything to give you the will to save yourself too.
Love you.
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Reading Red Seas Under Red Skies has brought my best friend Mike Swann vividly into my memory.
He and I turned each other on to so many good books. I still have some of the ones he stole for me; some mildewy, one or two fire-blackened round the edges, but readable and loved.
He would have loved Lies and Red Seas so much. It would have been one of those books where you go round quoting bits of it to each other for months afterwards. You people who are fond of me, you would have adored him; his shy dry wit and his sharp pointy brain and his well-trained, loved dogs. He was a good deal cleverer than I am, as was John. How that works out to me being the only one of us left standing, I'll never know. One could call it luck. One does not, at this moment, feel especially lucky.
He and I turned each other on to so many good books. I still have some of the ones he stole for me; some mildewy, one or two fire-blackened round the edges, but readable and loved.
He would have loved Lies and Red Seas so much. It would have been one of those books where you go round quoting bits of it to each other for months afterwards. You people who are fond of me, you would have adored him; his shy dry wit and his sharp pointy brain and his well-trained, loved dogs. He was a good deal cleverer than I am, as was John. How that works out to me being the only one of us left standing, I'll never know. One could call it luck. One does not, at this moment, feel especially lucky.
Tags:
Reading Red Seas Under Red Skies has brought my best friend Mike Swann vividly into my memory.
He and I turned each other on to so many good books. I still have some of the ones he stole for me; some mildewy, one or two fire-blackened round the edges, but readable and loved.
He would have loved Lies and Red Seas so much. It would have been one of those books where you go round quoting bits of it to each other for months afterwards. You people who are fond of me, you would have adored him; his shy dry wit and his sharp pointy brain and his well-trained, loved dogs. He was a good deal cleverer than I am, as was John. How that works out to me being the only one of us left standing, I'll never know. One could call it luck. One does not, at this moment, feel especially lucky.
He and I turned each other on to so many good books. I still have some of the ones he stole for me; some mildewy, one or two fire-blackened round the edges, but readable and loved.
He would have loved Lies and Red Seas so much. It would have been one of those books where you go round quoting bits of it to each other for months afterwards. You people who are fond of me, you would have adored him; his shy dry wit and his sharp pointy brain and his well-trained, loved dogs. He was a good deal cleverer than I am, as was John. How that works out to me being the only one of us left standing, I'll never know. One could call it luck. One does not, at this moment, feel especially lucky.
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I knew three people whose birthday was today; my mother's two sisters, Marian Junior (Auntie Juni) and Susan Jennifer (Auntie Sue). They were twins, and (I think) two years younger than my mother, so they would have been sixty-two today. Auntie Juni was fortyish when she died, Auntie Sue was (I think) fifty.
the third was my best friend Mike Swann. he would have been thirty-four now.
some days, all the dead people that I love give me strength. love doesn't die, after all. it stays with you forever and sustains you.
but everyone who's died that you love takes a piece of you with them. and on some days there's so much of me on the other side that I feel like a ghost myself; weak, thin, insubstantial and clinging stubbornly to a world I no longer have the right to walk in.
this is what made my mother lose the will to live. her troubles started after her best friend Carol died, at the end of a year in which she'd also lost her own mother and her last living sister, Auntie Jean.
but my mother's alive now. she's walking strong and living in love again, and I got my stubbornness from her. so will I. Keep saying that.
the third was my best friend Mike Swann. he would have been thirty-four now.
some days, all the dead people that I love give me strength. love doesn't die, after all. it stays with you forever and sustains you.
but everyone who's died that you love takes a piece of you with them. and on some days there's so much of me on the other side that I feel like a ghost myself; weak, thin, insubstantial and clinging stubbornly to a world I no longer have the right to walk in.
this is what made my mother lose the will to live. her troubles started after her best friend Carol died, at the end of a year in which she'd also lost her own mother and her last living sister, Auntie Jean.
but my mother's alive now. she's walking strong and living in love again, and I got my stubbornness from her. so will I. Keep saying that.
I knew three people whose birthday was today; my mother's two sisters, Marian Junior (Auntie Juni) and Susan Jennifer (Auntie Sue). They were twins, and (I think) two years younger than my mother, so they would have been sixty-two today. Auntie Juni was fortyish when she died, Auntie Sue was (I think) fifty.
the third was my best friend Mike Swann. he would have been thirty-four now.
some days, all the dead people that I love give me strength. love doesn't die, after all. it stays with you forever and sustains you.
but everyone who's died that you love takes a piece of you with them. and on some days there's so much of me on the other side that I feel like a ghost myself; weak, thin, insubstantial and clinging stubbornly to a world I no longer have the right to walk in.
this is what made my mother lose the will to live. her troubles started after her best friend Carol died, at the end of a year in which she'd also lost her own mother and her last living sister, Auntie Jean.
but my mother's alive now. she's walking strong and living in love again, and I got my stubbornness from her. so will I. Keep saying that.
the third was my best friend Mike Swann. he would have been thirty-four now.
some days, all the dead people that I love give me strength. love doesn't die, after all. it stays with you forever and sustains you.
but everyone who's died that you love takes a piece of you with them. and on some days there's so much of me on the other side that I feel like a ghost myself; weak, thin, insubstantial and clinging stubbornly to a world I no longer have the right to walk in.
this is what made my mother lose the will to live. her troubles started after her best friend Carol died, at the end of a year in which she'd also lost her own mother and her last living sister, Auntie Jean.
but my mother's alive now. she's walking strong and living in love again, and I got my stubbornness from her. so will I. Keep saying that.
There are a lot of things I could say about Mike, but in the end I decided to leave it at the newspaper article. I will add, for my TBBS friends, that he was another sci-fi geek.
From the Bournemouth Daily Echo, July 15th 2004.
Article by Joanna Codd
HE was what some would describe as being outside mainstream society. A homeless man who had drifted away from his family, struggled with addiction, and lived in a tent with his two dogs.
But during his relatively short life, Big Issue seller Michael Swann's quiet and caring manner won him many admirers. And yesterday some of them gathered to pay him tribute following his sudden death at the age of 32.
Smartly-dressed business people, elderly shoppers and other members of the Westbourne community joined other friends he had made on the streets, packing the pews of West Cliff Baptist Church in Westbourne for an emotional service of thanksgiving and celebration.
Michael - known as Mikey "Two Dogs" Swann because of his constant canine companions Aki and Coax, who have now been rehomed together - had been found dead in his tent behind a Westbourne squat on June 23.
Chris Brockway, associate minister at the church, spoke of how London-born Mikey had been brought up in Hertfordshire, travelling to Italy in the school holidays to visit relatives.
When he was 11, the family moved to Southampton, and two years later, his father died. He started an engineering degree in Huddersfield, but left to come to Bournemouth, where his sister was living.
Mr Brockway explained that Mikey's life "generally went awry". He had to keep moving because of the difficulty of finding accommodation with his dogs. Contact with his family fizzled out and he developed a drugs problem.
But becoming a Big Issue seller restored his self-respect, and he and the dogs became familiar figures on his pitches outside Waitrose and Iceland.
Invited to share their own memories of Mikey, friends spoke movingly of how he much they would miss him. One talked of Mikey's love of reading, adding: "He taught me never to judge a book by his cover." A Waitrose customer spoke of his kindness and gentleness. "He was a lovely chap," she said.
After the service, friend Tony Green said: "I think he would be really pleased so many people turned up, not just his friends, but all the people who used to buy the Big Issue off him. Every morning he would be there - he was part of the furniture of Westbourne."
Liz (surname I don't use on the Net), who brought her dog Spike to the service, said: "We went through all the homelessness and drug thing together. I wouldn't have got clear of it without him. He was the best friend I had."
Milly Grant said: "I used to speak to him every time I went to Waitrose. The two dogs were always there on a rug. I bought chews for his dogs and he helped me when I lost my dog."
Fiona Davis said: "I will never forget him. I used to buy dog food for him and he was a lovely fellow. I used to have lots of shopping to carry. When the taxi came, he would help me with my bags and open the door for me."
Mr Brockway said: " He was incredibly intelligent but life certainly dealt him some tough blows. The church does quite a lot of work with homeless and marginalised people and he used to come to our Sunday lunches.
"Come rain or shine he would be on his patch in Westbourne. Even though his mum and family offered him a place to live, it was his choice to live in a tent. He had difficulties finding a house that would accept the dogs. He'd had them since they were puppies - I think they were better cared for than he was."
Mr Brockway said money collected at the service in Mikey's memory would be split between the church and Big Issue breakfasts on Fridays.
"We are also looking at a new project, setting up a community network advice office in town," he said.
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