redstapler: (Default)
[personal profile] redstapler
Hello, Livejournal.

I am writing here today to honor the memory of my friend Velma, aka [ profile] roadnotes, and by a dozen other names, I'm sure. Velma was a woman of many communities, and our networks intersected in ways I'm sure I'll continue to be surprised by in the coming days.

In true Livejournal, tangled-network fashion, I interacted with Velma first through one mutual friend's comment threads, then another's, eventually friending each other because we liked what the other had to say. The conversations were usually about art, sense of self, and any number of sillinesses. Once meetspace interactions began, they were usually at cozy bars or restaurants where we were there to see our friends who worked there as much as each other.

In short, my memories of Velma can be summed up by music, good drink, and the comforting knowledge that a stranger was just someone I already knew who Velma hadn't attempted to introduce me to yet. (See also, the hilarious case of the proprietor of Quarter, who I knew from a one-act festival in college.)

In early 2009, right after Soren's stroke, as my mother's cancer was getting more serious, and my new partner had moved to Texas for graduate school, Velma and I had a standing Tuesday night date. We'd meet at The Duplex and sing and sing and sing. Those Tuesdays got me through that winter and spring, and I suspect they did the same for her. I hope they did.

I missed her when I moved to Austin. The last time I saw her was after Thanksgiving of 2010, when she joined a large group for lunch at Old Town. If I'd known that would be the last time I'd see her, etc etc....

As I said on Twitter when the news went public: Find a piano bar, sing a torch song, and raise a glass to one of the best people I've been blessed to know.
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A Punk Rock Joan Holloway Trying To Be Ianto Jones

October 2016


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