You were a jumper, Gene,
and I'm sorry I never knew you.
I think I would have liked your
long black hair and sunglasses.
I know you were a contemplative soul.
Maybe too much.
Or maybe on too much of the wrong thing.
Or the right thing--your head just couldn't take it.
You jumped to conclusions.

I know the Golden Gate is romantic, Gene.
But I wish you would have found romanticism in
something other than death,
or jumping to it, yours.
Did you know Chekhov?
Chopin?
Goya?
Delacroix?
I think they would have saved you.
You did mirror the Wanderer above the Sea of Fog
however and I wonder did you jump to replicate it?
You jumped with so much hesitation.

Did you listen to your messages that day, Gene?
I hear you got a job offer.
"Straight to managment" is what they said.
You would have liked that job, Gene,
wouldn't you?
Game store, I think. You loved games.
And I bet you'd get them free.
Think of that. All the games you could have at your disposal.
You would have jumped at that, wouldn't you?

What happened to your ferret, Gene?
I think you named him Cuervo.
Did you make arrangements for him
before you made yours?
I'm not trying to blame you here.
I just want to know.
I'm curious. Where is Cuervo?
Is he alive?
Did you jump at the chance to give him a good home?

I read your blog, Gene.
"The Uselessness of Being Me"
You weren't useless.
You had friends.
Like Ed and Chanel.
I know you wanted more from Chanel.
But you had fans, Gene.
People loved you.
They wanted more from you, not less.
On December 29, 2003, you posted an entry,
"exit stage left".
How long had you been planning to jump?

You mention you're tired of California, Gene.
and you're going to sell your stuff
and move somewhere else
You mention you don't meet any girls anyway.
But a girl commented, "Says who?"
You talk about spookyhotties.com
and that you are rated in the top ten boys of goth
I wish you would have found a different place to move to, Gene
without jumping.

You dove, though, I think, Gene.
Not much of a jump.
A backward swan dive caught on tape.
Your friends loved being around you.
Did you love being around them?
They talk about how you always talked about death and suicide.
You cried "Wolf" they believe. But it wasn't really wolf, was it?
You were constantly reaching out.
under all of the black,
you wanted light,
drawn to it, dodged by it,
like a moth or Blanche Dubois.

I would have liked you, Gene.
In fact, I do.
I, like many others, miss you,
like a country I long to visit, never been, never will.

01/30/2008

Posted on 01/30/2008
Copyright © 2025 David Garner