I just found this rant of words I wrote when Gary passed. I was on tour and pretty messed up and Brooke was kind enough to read it at the celebration of his life. It's quite long and not well edited. Gosh I am sorry Brooke. I guess that's ok. Doesn’t really matter now.
Words For Gary 2006
I'd met Gary a half dozen times and had seen him perform around the island and he kind of scared me with his talent, his aura, and frankly, the first few times we talked I thought he was just plain rude! The most fascinating thing about his bad behaviour which was something I would later learn to appreciate was that he seemed to get away with and that it could even make your day in the strangest way. Then he had his accident and the music stopped around here for a while.
Three months after the collision, Melinda convinced me to go up and see him at his and Hedi’s place to try to get him playing again, so one sweltering summer afternoon I did just that. I was nervous as hell. What right did I have to assume he'd be ready for it and what would I do if he told me to piss off? I went for it. I was greeted at the door by a cheerful toothless pirate wearing Bermuda shorts, a skull and crossbones muscle shirt and a black patch over one of his eyes, drinking a super can of beer through a long straw. We talked for a little while about music and the accident and within 20 minutes I too found myself stripped down due to the extreme heat, sitting on a sweaty towel in my underwear next to him on the couch. Pirate Gary threw a Bob Dylan and Tom Petty concert on the tv and within another 15 minutes, I found myself weeping at the incredible majesty of it all while Gary jumped around the room with a beer can in each hand screaming and yelling and laughing and singing along to every line… a hilarious sight were anyone to walk in on us for sure, with me crying in my underwear and Gary yelling “weep man, yeah that's good Indio! Bob's talking to you man! He’s talking to us all!” Needless to say, after everything he had been through and survived, I could tell that the music in him was far from gone.
After a couple more visits and jams he was back in the saddle again, with music coming out of him day and night. So many new ideas and dreams for jams and next records and gigs. He let me play in his band when I was home from my tours and it was fun and exasperating and amazing. His songs were great to play along to and he sang with so much conviction and whether people listened or even showed up to support him or not it was always 100 percent rock and roll. I can’t recall how many operations he had undergone by this point, but the amount of suffering he was enduring… looking back now I can’t believe how much spirit and power he had. He had still not been made aware that another great challenge was just around the corner, which was the cancer that took him so quickly after all that he had already been through.
My friend Gary was a poet, player, and high trapeze artist of soul. The orphan, gypsy, fool, and sage were just some of his embodying archetypes. He was one of the ‘Yes People’ from Kerouac’s On The Road. His heart was a burning bush in a vast empty desert. His eyes flickered with light and flame. Like any real artist, he was existentially tortured, unimpressed, and bored by the meaningless waste around him. Ennui was his great enemy and the status quo could eat shit for all he cared. His veins and skin held the promise of an inner heat or diamond light the kind all the mad ones know about and live for and most often don’t recognize within themselves. Something ’crying like a fire in the sun’ indeed. Something with no time to waste.
In his final days, his mischievous eyes were often watery from the pain he was in but the love and light within them was deeper than ever before. He was extra glad to see you and so very frail and full of love and I cherished every moment I had with him and that light he was here to bring. I wished that he had been in my life for so much longer than he was.
As far as his music goes, to me he wasn't only playing to the beat of a different drum, he was actually playing the right one, and his timeless songs are now immortal because of it. I am certain that he felt like he had never really ‘made it’ and that internal personal battle around the value and worth of his own work was ongoing, but to me he had not only made it, he was living it and giving it away freely to the fortunate few of us who really understood and adored it. I also know that in the end, his spiritual life and his need for understanding and peace brought him to a place that many people never do achieve in their lifetimes, and he touched upon the true gold that we are actually all here for and did that in spades. Real success for Gary.
I learned a lot from him and saw myself in him and I think he helped me a lot without either of us knowing it. I think he showed me that it was ok to get as much pleasure out of washing dishes or driving a truck or cooking a meal or digging the sky as it was to rock out in front of a thousand people with flames flying out of your nostrils and that maybe the things that matter to us the most for the majority of our lives are actually the things that mean the least to us in the end. Like sitting on a couch in your underwear next to a drunken pirate who has lost all of his teeth and his face in a recent car accident while watching Bob Dylan play a concert for 20 thousand people in a stadium was maybe going to be just as good as being Bob Dylan, or just as ok. And that maybe we actually were Bob Dylan. We were already Bob Dylan. There was nowhere else to go and nothing more to achieve.
Then we suddenly found out he wasn't going to be around much longer just a few weeks after my mother passed away. It was such shocking news. What the fuck? I'd also lost another close musical friend to cancer just months before and told him “forget it pal! Enough of this already!” He apologized and started laughing hysterically. When he told us about it on the ferry it was like he was going on a trip to Mexico or something - there was little to say… just some hugs through a few tears and quiet smiles. Our relationship then changed for the third and final time. Gary became almost fatherly to me as if he had more love and energy to give than ever and the look in his eyes said the same thing my mother's eyes said to me in her last days - I am almost free and it’s all going to be ok and so are you.
He called me a few times recently when I was on tour to see how I was doing and to tell me how great he thought my songs and debut record were and that he listened to it every night before he fell asleep and that was so encouraging, just when I needed it the most. He was there for me and I'll never forget that. I'll always sing for Gary. Always. Even if I AM driving truck for a living or washing dishes. He was our friend and always will be. He knew Love and was Love and I thank him from the bottom of my heart and the top of my uppermost mind. Thank you Gary, I love you and hope to see you when the time is right for that to happen again.