Dammit! (AKA Maury Chaykin, RIP)

Fuck, man: Maury Chaykin died. He was 61. My Mom had seen it on TV; we were watching a movie with Mark Boone Jr. in it, and - furthering my theory that All Fat Men Look Alike - she thought it was him; then, when I told her Mark Boone Jr.'s name and asked about the obit she'd seen, she told me the name was for someone named something like "Morrie Hoffman." Uh-oh, I thought... this could be Maury Chaykin... Alas, it was. Mom remembered I liked him because I played her Whale Music just after Paul Quarrington died, a few months ago, and raved about his performance as a burnt-out, mentally fragile, musically obsessive reclusive rockstar, modeled on Brian Wilson. It's a sweet, funny, very engaging piece of Canadian cinema, if you haven't seen it - and a good book, too. If I ran a repertory theatre, I would try to program a double bill of Whale Music and The Adjuster in Chaykin's honour...

I begin to fear death. Suddenly I'm getting more and more aware that everyone I know is going to die, and several of them are going to die before I do. Unless I get hit by a bus.

Fuck!