This month will be a year.
It will already be a year.
I have made no headway in trying to get any of his writings together. I have barely cracked the surface of copying and pasting all of his blogs over the years like he asked me to do. One blog was shut down since it was on a pay site. Luckily I happened to look in his email the day before I would've had to pay something like $60 to reinstate the site on top of renewing it. It's probably still too early, but the problem with the digital world is that it can disappear. One Yahoo email address that he had for 15 years or more was completely wiped out. They said that he hadn't logged in to it in over a year. Having your email connected on your smartphone is not considered logging in, I suppose I learned that the hard way.
I feel in some ways that I am the only one who will ever see the things that I find and put together. I know I want to do it for him and for me, but it doesn't stop you from questioning if it really matters or not. It's like all the cassettes of "music" that I have recorded dating back to high school, no one but myself wants to hear any of it. And that's fine, I'm ok with that. I just wish that the feelings that I have for the time period that the things were recorded could be attached to the music also. Like listening to certain music that you grew up with. Our children will never fulling get feelings that one has for certain things. I look at Harry's books or CDs for example, and wonder which ones held special places for him. Certain phrases that stuck with him. Like for me there is a song by Depeche Mode that always sticks in my head from the song Judas. "Is simplicity best, or simply the easiest". For some reason that has always stuck in my head. I think about it when I record any music. Am I just being lazy or is some of it best left "simplistic"?
That leads me to "August", the guitar track that I recorded this past Sunday. I recorded it, but had no idea what to name it or what to do with it. I have a fellow musician from the Linear Obsessional label that I am friends with on Facebook. He had a post about how August holds bad memories for him. Like him, Harry did not like August. Harry said that a lot of the bad things that happened to him, happened in August. A few weeks before he was gone, he said that he wasn't going to make it through August. Apparently he was correct. So with all these thoughts on August, that seemed like an appropriate title. William S. Burroughs was found of the line from the poem "Flammonde" by Edwin Arlington Robinson "We cannot know how much we learn / from those who will never return"
The accompanying photo was found in Harry's phone. The photo is taking by Harry looking out from his back porch.