Brett’s laughter and key jangle is echoing through my mind✨… and I remember the many times in the calm before the storm, when he would get into “pigeon pose” on the plywood floor of the Rickshaw Stop balcony before the night shift, and make some peace and tend to his body… 🤍✨
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Thinking about Brett today, and how strange it is that he's gone, but also how present he still feels. I still talk to him, I still feel him. I imagine him welcoming home so many of his friends who have joined him recently. To all those feeling his loss right now, and the loss of other friends, I love you. And Brett, love YOU forever and ever. Can't wait to read the poems you've been writing since you got wherever you are. xoxoxo, M
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Just thinking about you Uncle B
I miss you so much💛
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I'm thinking of Brett today. Can't believe it's been a year. I still talk to him. I hope wherever he is, he knows how much he's loved. I think he does.
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I woke up this morning, clear and happy after spending hours with Brett deep in conversation. His enormous laughter engulfing me for most of the night, I woke and immediately sought to call him. It was one of those dreams where everything feels so real, so tangible. I know that whatever time it was over there, he was getting a call from me immediately.
That was half an hour ago.
My expectations have shifted.
I didn't know about Brett's death. I suppose time goes by and we hadn't spoken for a moment. It doesn't feel like any time has passed at all. It's not what I was expecting, when I woke after such a theatrical and outrageous dream, that felt just like being in a room with him.
What a beautiful man. It's hard to imagine a world without him. Especially so, when I can still hear his roaring laughter and feel his arms around me in a deep Hayseed bear hug.
What a moment of heartbreaking discovery.
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Curious if anyone is doing anything for Brett at this year's burn, and if those of us who can't go can contribute somehow?
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1999, Islington, London, UK
I took this photo of Brett in London back on December of 1999. Brett had broke his neck working at the Grand Canyon, and I had gotten tickets to a tiny little intimate Björk show in a church. Only 200 people were allowed on the venue. I always called Brett my brother, and he called called me his sister. He made my dreams come true up to this point in my life, big time. He offered to fly us to London since he broke his neck and got money for that, and I was a massive Björk fan. The show was amazing, and Björk got her arm slammed in the back of a van, pulling me in to meet her. No one else met her. I’ll never forgot that time of my life, Brett even brought up The Brodsky Quartet, the musicians that played A cappella, in our last conversation, days before he passed away. That show was the most beautiful thing I could ever imagine, and my brother made it happen.
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this is a .... Buck did this. it's Brett reading his poetry, and it was scored by Buck Down. so perfect
.
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As the memorial approaches, I've been finding myself listening to the Spotify playlist and really appreciating all the feelings it's bringing up. I wanted to share the updated invite to add songs, for anyone who would like to contribute music that reminds you of Brett. (The link expires every few days, which is SO ANNOYING, so this is the latest).
https://open.spotify.com/play…
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2005, Saltspring Island, Capital, BC, Canada
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2005, Saltspring Island, Capital, BC, Canada
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2001, Rock Island, IL, USA
With the old school crew in Shawn and Rachel’s backyard. We were both visiting and it was time to drink and get rowdy. With Paul, Brett’s best friend in HS (maybe longer?)
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1998, Rock Island, IL, USA
I have no idea why he was driving my car… one can only imagine…
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