~ 1sb ~

[Eyereadtoo]

My deepest condolences and most sincerest thoughts to his family and friends.

 

[Cumference]

Oh bugger!

Condolences

 

[Suz_anne]

It's with a broken heart, and trembling hands, that i share this...

1sickbastard -- sickie, 1sb -- has passed away.

He was a longtime dear friend and love of mine...

I'm devastated. The PG just got a little less funny without him.....

Here's the first post of his that I ever read... Fucking hilarious...

I'm so sorry.

 

[curvyangel1969]

This is very sad news indeed. Even though we only spoke briefly through the threads I always thought him to be a very funny sincere man. He will be missed and I'm so sorry for your loss and those who knew him well and his family

 

[italiansexylady]

I only knew him from seeing his posts here...he was a fun-loving guy.
....my heart breaks for all of his loved ones left behind.
So sorry

 

[papadoc19]

He will be truly missed

 

[sogrl90]

I'm so sorry to hear this.

 

[sunshinegirl05]

I'm so sorry for your loss!

 

[lovetopleasewomen]

I didn't know him, but I hope good memories sustain those who did through their loss. His last PG post, on Nov. 24:

Ya know, I thought I saw a recent post of his.

 

[INeedLove]

oh my god.....this is heart breaking. and shocking.

1sb and I were quite close several years ago. The man had a voice of velvet at 3 am as well as an eclectic intelligence. He could be maddening and stubborn as hell but opened his home to a friend's cat who needed lots of care. He was complex yet simple. My heart aches for his family, friends and his dear friend/room mate.

https://68.media.tumblr.com/49aecf21d44d337f5982003b96d8def1/tumblr_nyelos5dFI1sqvx58o1_540.gif goodbye daddy

 

[ViciousTease]

I have no words. Completely heartbroken.

 

[Girly_girl]

I did not know him, but I remember seeing his name in various threads. My heart and sympathies goes out to all that knew him

 

[JoyDyan]

How very sad....I remember how witty he could be. May he rest in peace

 

[TheSilverLining]

Such sad news. Lots of love to trekka and his family and friends.

 

[feistyphoenix]

I went to send him a message tonight since I had not heard from him in a few months. He always appreciated my attempts at what he called "nefarious monkey business". Now im just kinda broken hearted.

 

[Trekka]

One full moon later...

I’m mostly out of tears. Time to write, I figure. To memorialize.

This isn’t going to be as funny as I’d hoped it would be. But I did my best.

And if anyone has any fun 1sb stories to share, shout em out. Or just listen. Or ignore all of this as you see fit. But I couldn’t let him pass and not write something… proper.

Er, as proper as one can be in a place like this... So here goes...

 

[Trekka]

1sb once explained his handle to me. “It keeps expectations low,” he joked. This reminder came in handy from time to time. Anyone who knew the man well would agree: he was a challenging motherfucker to love.

I loved him anyways.

I wish at this moment he’d chosen something else for a username, because I feel like it undersells him every time I type it. Yet he was a frustratingly chronic underachiever, and also a fan of irony, so I know he’d enjoy the ridiculousness I feel tasked with: writing an online farewell to one...sick...bastard.

I’m comforted by the fact that I firmly believe he is watching me muddle through this from above, guffawing, thoroughly amused at my discomfort each time I write “1sickbastard was…”

See? Didja hear that? He just laughed right now...

 

[Trekka]

1sb was the first person I got to know on Lit. Our initial PM exchange was in response to a personal ad he wrote, “as a joke.” Since he’s no longer here to defend himself, I allege, one final time, that it was not a joke, but a serious ad, fishin’ for high quality, yet still slightly gullible (read: malleable, or, alternately, blonde) women, afficionados of humor… like me of course!

And it worked. One night, I stumbled across his ad, and, laughing out loud all alone in my office, I made the first move—like a good sub—and messaged him with, what I thought, was a brilliant opener:

“You’re funny. I’m funny too. We should talk.” …Later he would teach me what “topping from the bottom” meant...

 

[Trekka]

Thus began the beginning of a whirlwind online D/s thing that ended with all the standard-issue Lit-drama plus a few bells and whistles, as I’m sure some here recall.

But fences were mended. And, eventually, 1sb and I settled into an ironclad friendship that would see us both through some of the most difficult times of our lives.

You know, he was a handy friend to have. Kind of like a utility knife. You could take a smoke break with him, swap recipes, discuss board game strategy, edit erotica, compare coffee varietals from different geographic locations, or experience multiple hands-free orgasms. The possibilities were endless.

And he kept odd hours, so he was most always available to talk. And listen. At dawn. Daily....

 

[Trekka]

We spent thousands of hours on the phone. He was the first friend I told about my plans to file for divorce. He was the first person that called me after the judge finalized it. He was the first person I photobombed when I moved into my new apartment. And, in time, he was the first friend to whom I’d introduce my new beau...

 

[Trekka]

During tearful phone calls in the wee hours of the morning, he talked about inanity to distract me. We dissected the migratory patterns of curly tailed lizards. The man could talk about anything!

I remember conversations about the beaches of Saudi Arabia, the history of SXSW, solar wind, home plumbing, Hong Kong street food, Daphne versus Velma, German airports, trends in bicycle theft, the grammatical intricacies of romantic languages, and, ahhh, the subtleties, and not-so-subtleties, of anal sex.

And we were both huge fans of sunscreen! And poptarts! Irish humor. B movies. Redheads. Mmm… redheads...

 

[Trekka]

He was handsome, although he’d never admit it. He sported a soul patch on his chin and, often, a long blond ponytail. When we’d Skype, he’d sometimes hide out in low light, his face obscured save for a pair of sparkling Irish eyes and a wide, ever present grin.

My very own Cheshire Cat...

 

[Trekka]

And he cared for things. He would sit anything that needed sitting. He house-sat, garden-sat, dog-sat, baby-sat, and chicken-sat.

Once I called him while he was chasing his friend’s prize chicken, on the lam at the time, through urban backyardia. I received the blow by blow, as he telegraphed every maneuver the bird made. I heard rustles and clucks and curse words.

It was unclear who was enjoying the chase more: 1sb, or the chicken...

 

[Trekka]

This man was bright… witty… intelligent… silly… and could spin one hell of a story. Whisper it into your ear just right. Or growl it, as the case may be. Sometimes a snarl. Sometimes a coo.

There will always be a part of my brain devoted to responding to the sound of his voice. He etched a permanent neural pathway in my mind that will never forget… those words.

A few here know what I mean.

He was creative. He was musical. He played his instruments on the phone for me, converting punk rocks songs to whimsical ukulele covers. It soothed me when I was restless...

 

[Trekka]

He was a bassist, and was afflicted by a classic case of Bassists’ Inferiority Complex. Despite all my reassurances that his musical stylings were the basis upon which groupies like me built our hip-shakin’ moves, he remained unconvinced. Typical, really.

One night we got in an argument about how bassists go unnoticed. “Name five famous bassists!” he commanded, exasperated. “Famous in their own right! Not famous because of the band they were in,” he quickly added.

To which I rattled off Flea, Lemmy, Bootsy Collins, Les Claypool, and… the chick from White Zombie with the green hair!”

I think I won that argument...