Six years ago my friend Lorne was killed by a car, and I only found out today.
We used to talk on the telephone all the time. He loved the Stone Roses. I don't even know how we lost touch. Last time I saw him was when I was on my way to class at McGill. We exchanged emails, but neither of us sent a message. The thing is, even when you're not in touch, that doesn't mean you're not friends anymore. You're just not in touch. Lorne and I are still friends, but now he's gone. Damn his family must still be devastated.
No kidding, I was just thinking of them the other day. I was going to look up Lorne on facebook. I still have a cassette tape he gave me. It has only two songs that him and his band, Lord Quagmire, recorded. That was in 1991/92. So long ago. They were just kids. Really fucking talented kids. The tape still sounds perfect, even though I played it probably a million times. I'm going to give it to Andrew along with their band sticker, which I also saved. I think he should have them. I hope it doesn't make him sad. I hope I don't show him that I'm sad.
Call me a hippie
And I'll wear them beads
Call me a frog
And I'll hop from far to see
But tell me that I'm evil
And the sun comes out at night
When Andrew asked me if I heard about Lorne, he couldn't even say "died" at first. He just made motions up to the sky. What I wanted to hear was "Lorne won the lottery, toured Europe, met a hot French girl and got married, now they live in Kenya with two kids and they help the poor."
Why did it have to be the exact opposite? Andrew told me it took him 3 years to ... I dunno ...
All this, just by running into an old college friend in the street. Damn it. I want him back. I miss him, and I didn't know that until today.