I want to participate in Chablis' Carnival of the Blogfaddah but I can't pick one favorite post. I was never any good at playing favorites, I like EVERYTHING, so I decided to go back in the archives to when I found Gut Rumbles the second time and try to figure out what exactly hooked me on the blog, and ultimately the man.
I was surprised to find I had been reading him for only just under a year. It felt longer but I arrived in mid August of 05, flopped into my chair at the Crackerbox and never left. I read the whole month's worth of posts and these few sum up for me, how I came to care about a guy who called himself Acidman.
Rob Smith and I could not have been more different in our politics but our views on life and our life experiences were remarkably similar. He wasn't afraid to die, but he was always mindful of death and how narrowly we escape it until our time comes. Take this story about when he was almost struck by lightning. He figured he lived through that one because the expiration date stamped by the cosmos on his ass hadn't expired yet. That's the way I feel about it too.
He wasn't a pious man. He had a very pragmatic view of religion but he was a Godly man. He practiced the tenets of Christianity better than most of the churchgoers who proclaim their faith so loudly. And when he talked about his mama's cookin', it was with an almost religious reverence.
I wasn't a big fan of his crap blogging. I'm not much for bathroom humor, maybe because I've endured too many gastrinomical indignities in my life, but this fart story was one of my favorite posts. It was so well written you could see the scene as he described it and I found the vision of this macho cracker bonding with his cherished son over silly boy stuff, beautiful and moving. I think that was the moment I began to like him as person and not just as a writer.
The comments seem to have been deleted from the archives but as I recall the first time I commented was on this post about dogs and their names. It reminded me of my two favorite departed pets, Moonshine, an orange tabby kitten with the loudest purr on earth and my old dog Chum whom I miss to this day, some 35 years later. I remember getting all teary eyed thinking about them.
Emboldened by my success with that comment -- I didn't get immediately kicked out -- I ventured into wider terrority. It wasn't long before I got my first fisking. I recall being pleased he had noticed my comment. For one thing it gave me another chance to pitch my anti-drug war schtick and although I didn't admit it to myself at the time, I was also pleased that he had noticed me, as I was already becoming intrigued by him and was glad for an opening to step into his life. I probably decided at that moment I was going to make friends with this crazy curmudgeon.
And so I did. I don't remember exactly when he put me on his blogroll but I remember it brought tears to my eyes when I first saw it. I've never been much one for worrying about being "in" with the "in crowd" but his acceptance had become unnaturally important to me. It meant a lot that he publicly "declared" me a worthy blogger.
Don't get me wrong. I have no illusions about Rob. He was a hell of a writer but he was no saint. He was a drama queen and a womanizer with a giant ego and was not above stretching the truth to suit his own purposes. In a way I feel lucky that I didn't get to know him well enough to have been disillusioned by him, the better to enjoy the good memories I have. And mine are mostly all good.
We could not have been more different and yet as trite as it sounds, we were kindred souls, destined to be friends for life. I'm only sorry that his expiration date came up too soon for us to realize the full potential of that bond. But I'll cherish what little we shared and I know I'll carry the stamp he indelibly marked on my soul to my own grave and be a better woman for it.
...Cuz that's where our Acidman 's gone. Could you please give him a computer connection, So he can hear my goodbye song.
Well, I guess I'm not quite done yet with Rob Smith. I remain confounded by the effect his death has had on me. It's even more stunning to see that I am not alone in my confusion over feeling so profoundly bereft. The phenonmenon that was Gut Rumbles is morphing into something even bigger than Acidman could have imagined.
I'm looking around and something magical is happening in Blogtopia. In life Acidman inspired many to start blogs. In his death he's inspired them to start writing in them. Perhaps we're all just trying to fill the space he left in our lives by filling the empty bandwidth with words. Maybe it's his spirit got so big it exploded and a little splinter of it lodged in the hearts of all those who came to care for him and launched their muse. Whatever the reason, it's a beautiful thing to behold. Posts are pouring from blogs that have been long dormant and they're gorgeous and inspired musings. I think he would have been pleased.
And I know he would have been proud to know he "fathered" yet another blogdaughter, even after his passing. Actually because of his passing. His long time reader and commenter, Cindi finally started a blog just so she could participate in The Carnival of the Blogfaddah. She's off to a fabulous start at Over the Rainbow with a beautiful tribute along with links to some of his best posts. I especially liked her end quote.
Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated. ~Lamartine
With Rob gone, Cindi won't get her Acidbath from Gut Rumbles, but I think Rob would want her to have one, so please click on over and if you have a blog, pass on the link.
Meanwhile, on the day of Rob's funeral, another long time reader and commenter, brought a new life into the world. This showed up in the comments.
At 9:55am, my wife (Steph) gave birth to a very healthy baby boy weighing 10lbs 4oz. In light of recent events we have decided to name our son Robert Mathias. We just hope our son is as honest and gusty as Rob was...
To that I'd say, careful what you wish for, but a hearty congratulations to the proud parents. If there is wifi in heaven, I think Rob is looking at all of this and loving it.
The memorial service for Rob Smith is going on as I write this and I can almost hear the sniffling mass of people at the site listening to the eulogies on the wind blowing through my open door. But it feels right that I should pay my final tribute from behind the computer screen since it was in the cyberworld where Rob and I conducted our friendship. Some, like Marcus, think a cyber relationship is less real, but for me, what Rob and I shared held all the warmth and connection of flesh and blood contact.
It was an unlikely and unexpected bond. I'm a (former) Yankee bleeding heart leftard who believes in global warming and tarot cards and he was unapologetic, trash talking, down and dirty redneck cracker who believed in nothing he can't see for himself. Yet somehow we came to respect each other and call each other friend.
I had just started blogging the first time I stumbled across Gut Rumbles. I was appalled. As I now know, that was shortly after Rob and Joanie had their famous meetup. I took a look at a few posts and the comments sections where there was a raging battle going on among the "wimmen" and booked right out of there. Not my kind of place I thought. I wouldn't last ten seconds in that crowd. I didn't go back for a long time.
Eventually I moved to the south myself. It felt like living in a foreign country. I was anxious to understand my new "neighbors" and started actively looking for "southern" blogs. Thus it was that I stumbled across Gut Rumbles once again. The first post I read was one of his personal stories and it got me all teary eyed because it reminded me of my old dog. So I stayed and I never left, even though many a post since, made me grit my teeth and mutter rude remarks at the computer screen. I survived because I forced myself not to comment on his politics, most of the time...
The first time I dared leave a comment disagreeing with him, he sent me a scathing email. We had huge fight over it. It wasn't the last time we fiercely disagreed, but we always managed to end the debates civilly. Our correspondence evolved into a mainly pleasant exchange. He would often surprise and move me with a thoughtful response to a chance comment and I often emailed him my support in the early days of his struggles with sobrieity. As time went on he bacame a daily read, and then a frequent stop on the daily rounds as I came to know the other Rumblers and gingerly joined the community in the comment section. I'd often go back three or four times a day to check on developments. Even when it pissed me off, it was always interesting.
Rob was the heartbeat of our world at Gut Rumbles. His was the house where we all gathered. Reading and participating in his blog was like having a conversation with old friends and the CrackerBox was the kitchen table we all congregated around. He was an impeccable host. Who knows what will become of us now that he's left us with this big black hole in our universe?
Rob is not my blogfaddah. I was already a well established blogger when I arrived, but he became a mentor to me by example, on how to be a better writer. He was a living and breathing lesson in honesty, in bare-all prose and I hope to honor his legacy by carrying on that tradition as best I can. I was going to light a candle today at 5:55 for his spirit but I think he would have hated that, so instead I'm going to post this photo. I sent him this privately on his 111th day of sobrieity. I told him at the time I was too shy to post it on my own blog but somehow it feels like the most fitting tribute I can leave him now. Goodbye Rob. I hope all the girls in heaven have pretty feet with shiny red toenails.
A lovely and fitting tribute by Chris Muir at Day by Day, although I always thought of Rob as a Mark Twain without the fancy manners. But if there's an afterlife and Rob is watching, he's amused...
I was checking the referral logs last night and found this query, "how long does pot brownies last." A good question for anyone wanting to ingest the herb directly instead of smoking it so I thought I would answer the question in case they didn't find the answer in the post they clicked.
It depends on the potency of the weed you use to make the brownies and how much you used in the batter but in general a small brownie will take about an hour to "come on" before you feel the effects and then you will feel the effects from 6 to 12 hours. It's definitely a different sort of "high" than smoking a joint. In fact it's often not so much a high as a sense of altered perception. Hope that answers your question.
Rob's memorial service is on Thursday. I won't be able to go. I don't even have time to blog tonight because I have another early call. I'm exhausted. I'm overwrought. I'm stricken with a grief I don't understand and when I finally headed home tonight, I saw this is the sky. Now I have that Joni Mitchell song stuck in my head.
Rows and floes of angel hair And ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons evrywhere Ive looked at clouds that way
But now they only block the sun They rain and snow on evryone So many things I would have done But clouds got in my way Ive looked at clouds from both sides now From up and down, and still somehow Its cloud illusions I recall I really dont know clouds at all
But now old friends are acting strange They shake their heads, they say Ive changed
Well somethings lost, but somethings gained In living evry day
Ive looked at life from both sides now From win and lose and still somehow Its lifes illusions I recall I really dont know life at all
I'm inconsolably sad about Rob Smith's death. I can't read the comments and the other blogs. I can hardly bear to think about it. I'm awed by how deeply the loss cuts me when I've never actually met the man in person. I didn't even have his phone number. There was no reason to since I declined his few invitations to come to the Cracker Box. So tonight I mourn the loss of a man who wrote so honestly and compellingly that I learned to like and trust him enough, to have ridden off alone with him into the wilderness, even though I didn't know him from "Adam's house-cat."
The last thing I told him was, I was going to make him my friend for life rather than my lover for a little while. Who would have thought we would run of time so soon?
The last thing he said to me was this:
Libby--- I think we missed each other about 20 years ago. Coulda struck some sparks back then.
I'm not trying to blow smoke up your ass, but you remind me of the strong wimmen in my family. And I LOVE every one of them, including my dear, departed mama. I don't lay that kind of flattery on many people. Hell--- I know very few people who are worthy of it. But you?... well... like I said, twenty years ago you and I mighta... whatever.
I know exactly what you mean. Responsibility is a heavy pack to carry, but good people do it, and they don't drop it to go chase butterflies, no matter how pretty the butterflies seem to be. You've got your head in the right place, square on your shoulders, and I believe that life will treat you well. I certainly hope so.
Of course... if you DO change your mind, you know how to contact me.
May you have the very best forever,
Rob
Those words meant a lot to me considering our vast differences. They were so unexpected and touching and came at an especially opportune moment. So tonight, I mourn selfishly for the lost possibilities. I'll wallow in self-pity that I didn't let him paint my toenails red while he sang to me by the sea. That I never shared his hot tub and let him teach me to love okra. That I didn't make the time and take a chance on that cranky old cracker.
Rob Smith died a lonely man but he leaves Blogtopia an even lonelier place. It won't be the same without him. So tonight I'll cry for those of us left behind to deal with his loss. But tomorrow I'll celebrate his life and rejoice that at least he's now free of the pain.
This is Sam. Rob has passed away. They found him at 2:00 this morning slumped over on the couch. He did not shoot himself and no pills or alcohol were found in the house. When I find out anything else I'll let you know. Out of respect for my family please do not leave nasty comments.
Almost sad that she needed the qualifier but that was the nature of Rob's readership and his writing. You either loved or hated him, sometimes both at the same time, but you always felt something. And you wanted him to know it.
That's all I can really say for now. I need to absorb this for a moment and maybe cry a little while for a man that I have never met....
I've kept it private, because I'm not much for disclosing all the intimate details of my life. There's a lot of things I can't talk about out of respect for my family's request for privacy and I don't usually disclose the really intimate details of my own. But Rob's world is more open than mine and I don't want him to think I'm embarrassed by my feelings for him, so I'm going to "come out" in a way.
This may surprise the Rumblers but Rob and I have discussed getting together in person. In fact, he made me the most generous and astounding offer I've ever received a few weeks ago. It brought tears to my eyes. He offered to take me as his passenger on a cross country tour of the USofA. Just me and him and the open road. No expectations and hopefully no regrets.
My heart leapt with joy at the vision of the two of us in the car. I had not a moment's doubt that my answer was yes. I had visions of how much fun it would be. I could see us laughing hysterically as we drove down some tree lined road, heard the screeching of the tires when I shouted "turn there" at the last second, while he cursed my alleged navigation skills, pictured him charming the waitress at some strange roadside joint in anywhere America....
And of course I'd bring the laptop and with most of America wired we could do roving wifi posts right from the car. It was the craziest and best offer I've had in years and there's nothing I'd like to do more. I can't think of a more unlikely or better pair of traveling companions than the two of us. My God, think of the blog fodder......
My disappointment at having to decline the invitation for truly a trip of a lifetime was so big, it crushed the breath out of me for two solid weeks. It still makes me sad that I'm not free to go. If I was, we would be discussing the itinerary today.
So, Rob if you're just hunkered down and feeling overwhelmed today and see this, let me tell you and the world, that I really care about you even though I don't know you outside of the internets. Your politics suck but you're a good man, so stick with us okay? Don't be so proud. Let your friends help.
