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John Boskovich - Sing With Me If It's Just For Today...
If I should fall behind, Guyster, wait for me.
guysterrules
guysterrules
John Boskovich
Scott said that this guy knew me, that he was a crewmember on Without You, I’m Nothing. Tom’s name didn’t sound familiar, but it’s been eighteen years since I produced that film. Who remembers that far back? Scott wanted me to be his wingman, to blunt a blind date that his friend Deb set up for him with Tom.

As soon as I saw him, though, I recognized Tom’s face––thick dark hair, eyes the color of a cobalt ashtray. Deb was there, too, and we awkwardly shuffled around the table at the Farmers Market in a game of musical chairs until the silent music stopped and we sat. I ended up directly across from Tom, not at all what Scott had planned.

Two minutes into the small talk, he said, “You know John died, right?”

First thought: No. What?
Second thought: John was there when Billy and I met for the first time.

“What happened?”

“Overdose.” I heard it. I slumped. “Yeah, he was doing all kinds of shit like crystal for about ten years. His dad found him in his apartment last September.”

I just sat there doing the emotional math. John and I had a complicated relationship, each vying for Sandra’s attention, approval. I didn’t like him. He always won. He was a trust fund baby, spoiled and talented.

His dad found him. His poor dad. Poor John.

I kept staring at the table, lining up the flatware this way and that while I tried not to cry. I didn’t want to look at Tom. Scott must’ve noticed something, asked me what was wrong. Tom took up the slack when I didn’t answer--told Scott and the rest of the table.

John was a visual artist before he met Sandra, his canvases a celebration of narcissism. He’d take sofa-sized sea and landscapes, and stencil his phone number in school-bus yellow across them. One of my favorite pieces was a detailed architect’s rendering of his condo with lines drawn from the couch to his bong and from his couch to his anti-depressants.

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Shipwreck, John Boskovich, 1989



Shipwreck detail, John Boskovich, 1989


I wrote a long piece on the rhapsody of ruin that comes with crystal, but it’s really this simple: If you’re doing it, please seek some help, not only for you, but for those who love you. Don’t try to convince me or anyone else that you’re happy doing it. That’s a lie and you know it.

If you know someone who is trapped by it, be patient and do your best to guide them toward help. It’s fucked up tough, I know. But once the claws are in, it’s mighty hard to escape, and your love and compassion will go a long way toward saving your’s friend’s life.

This is a good starting point.

.
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Comments
zodmicrobe From: zodmicrobe Date: April 27th, 2007 05:27 pm (UTC) (Link)
wow.
quirkstreet From: quirkstreet Date: April 27th, 2007 06:03 pm (UTC) (Link)
I wish I could give you a hug right now.

And thank you for sharing your personal wisdom on meth.
shawnsyms From: shawnsyms Date: April 27th, 2007 06:27 pm (UTC) (Link)
Oh Terry...

>>If you know someone who is trapped by it, be patient and do your best to guide them toward help.

Yes. For anyone reading this...a person can only decide on their own to change, but a friend can help them get closer to that decision. By showing that someone cares enough to actually say something about what's become an open secret. By pointing out the shocking or embarrassing things they're observed you say or do. It's easy for someone to be in denial about how bad things have gotten; breaking that silence for someone you care about could really help them.
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: April 28th, 2007 10:13 pm (UTC) (Link)
You're so right, Shawn. Thank you.
quuf From: quuf Date: April 27th, 2007 06:55 pm (UTC) (Link)
I'm not much of a crier, but that website's gallery of faces was rather effective.
From: danman1969 Date: April 28th, 2007 01:43 am (UTC) (Link)
Man, I love reading your entries because you always have something that makes me think...and envision... It's rarely (if ever) "I'm a Kermit The Frog" or "I Have A MIDWESTERN Accent!" thing, but always intelligent and thoughtful and funny and touching and everything all rolled up into one. I'd still like to meet you someday soon.
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: April 28th, 2007 10:19 pm (UTC) (Link)
Argh! I got a bounceback on sending you an email to your LJ address. Email me and we'll figure out the when and where.
From: danman1969 Date: April 28th, 2007 10:34 pm (UTC) (Link)
Hmmm... how odd about the bounceback. I just sent an e-mail to your "@livejournal.com" address. I wonder if you'll get it? If I don't hear back from you via e-mail, I guess I'll get the answer to that question!
petulant From: petulant Date: April 30th, 2007 10:26 pm (UTC) (Link)
If the dude was prescribed those meds, I have to say that I pity him and frankly, don't blame him. The way he was probably feeling? I'd turn to something else too (I do, actually. But pot is a lot friendlier than meth). And if he was just taking them to take them...well, I suppose I pity him then as well. Because you'd have to be seriously fucked up to want to feel (or not-feel, as the case may be) what those make you feel.
9 comments or Leave a comment