Wednesday, June 21, 2006


My friend Jimmy, also known as Andrew's writing partner on Beanman, shot himself in the head back in February. A lot happened that week, so I may not have stopped long enough to really ralize and acknowledge that he was dead. Jimmy and I weren't terribly close at all, but we were friendly and we'd talked a number of times. He was funny and I suspect he was in the same political camp as me. He was well-loved by people, and he had some good acting credits under his belt and an agent to be envied. I was pissed that he shot himself because he had so much going for him. I didn't make it to the memorial. I just kept going with my own life.

I keep running into remnants of Jimmy. I read an email that his mom sent Andrew last week. That was weird. It was hard to think of Jimmy as dead since I hadn't seen him since before Christmas. It was like he was just out of town.

The week before I found an old message book at home with his cell number inside. I guess he called Andrew last year and left a message that I wrote down.

The week before that I sent out emails to invite people to my Flirty Girls graduation. I've invited Jimmy to all of my actor-type events for the past two years. I always added him to the list. It was weird not to invite him because he's abandoned that body.

Two weeks before that I found his scanner in my office. He left it for Andrew to scan Beanman so they could collaborate with Jimmy living in Texas. That was weird.

My relationship with him wasn't close enough for me to have a big cathartic cry. I keep finding these reminders of his death, and I'm reminded that I don't know what I should be experiencing. I guess it's just weird for me.

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