He was a long suffering poet and musician who started here in Portland long ago and died by his own hand several years ago. He was a good person and loved by those that knew him. Look him up and you will find much to place a smile to your face. Wishing you the best, as always... j
Sounds like you\'ve had a personal connection to the subject Carla. I\'m so sorry for your loss. I\'ve been close to this sort of thing myself before as I would think so many here have. Its a difficult place to exist. I always had a hard time thinking about the others involved, in as, I was in such misery at the time, I just wanted it to go away. There were times it seemed the only point to living was to do no harm to others, which just seemed skewed at every turn. Such was the state of my reasoning at the time. But that\'s me and there\'s a part of me seriously cut off from other peoples feelings in many ways. Some of that could be self inflicted at an early age as an emotional defense from a very difficult upbringing, and some of it could be an organic depression. Or perhaps the thing dwells at the vortex in the midst of the maelstrom. Life is hard and with bipolar and severe depression, at times almost unbearable. That said, it also makes for some of the most sensitive and touching moments to come from the human soul. Beautiful things, when damaged, will sometimes go on to produce deep and everlasting works of beauty. Last year I was looking for my exit visa from this place and today I\'m in possession of more joy that I knew was possible. On my better days, I\'m filthy with the stuff, with it spilling freely from my pockets, as it does... I cannot point to the cause and effect nor provide the vector between these two places, I only know that at the time, they both made all of the sense in the world. I never met this man, though I have literally walked in his steps through Portland on many a bleak winter day. But I know what it is to suffer with something akin to an emotional flu you feel will never leave you. I wish he were still among us, as his gifts were that profound. But I can release someone in such deep pain as well.
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I\'d never heard of Elliot Smith before. I really like this song. Thank you for sharing.
He was a long suffering poet and musician who started here in Portland long ago and died by his own hand several years ago. He was a good person and loved by those that knew him. Look him up and you will find much to place a smile to your face. Wishing you the best, as always... j
I will do that. Thank you.
Very nice song, but I am so tired of suicide and its cost. Long suffering. Blechh. I\'m sorry that his life wasn\'t happier. (((((Hugs)))))
Sounds like you\'ve had a personal connection to the subject Carla. I\'m so sorry for your loss. I\'ve been close to this sort of thing myself before as I would think so many here have. Its a difficult place to exist. I always had a hard time thinking about the others involved, in as, I was in such misery at the time, I just wanted it to go away. There were times it seemed the only point to living was to do no harm to others, which just seemed skewed at every turn. Such was the state of my reasoning at the time. But that\'s me and there\'s a part of me seriously cut off from other peoples feelings in many ways. Some of that could be self inflicted at an early age as an emotional defense from a very difficult upbringing, and some of it could be an organic depression. Or perhaps the thing dwells at the vortex in the midst of the maelstrom. Life is hard and with bipolar and severe depression, at times almost unbearable. That said, it also makes for some of the most sensitive and touching moments to come from the human soul. Beautiful things, when damaged, will sometimes go on to produce deep and everlasting works of beauty. Last year I was looking for my exit visa from this place and today I\'m in possession of more joy that I knew was possible. On my better days, I\'m filthy with the stuff, with it spilling freely from my pockets, as it does... I cannot point to the cause and effect nor provide the vector between these two places, I only know that at the time, they both made all of the sense in the world. I never met this man, though I have literally walked in his steps through Portland on many a bleak winter day. But I know what it is to suffer with something akin to an emotional flu you feel will never leave you. I wish he were still among us, as his gifts were that profound. But I can release someone in such deep pain as well.