Goodbye, Justin. It's hard to believe you're gone, since I just saw you a couple weeks ago. You were your same old self- brutally honest but funny too. I enjoyed talking to you about all kinds of things, and it was always a blast to try and match wits with you,you could turn a phrase and fire back a retort as fast as me, without sounding like as big a prick. We would complain about guitarists to each other, and how we both hated people who are nothing but talk. Just like me, you knew that coolness comes from within, no matter how you dress or look.

 Even though you don't like California wines, I know you would have found some good ones on that winetasting trip to Temecula that we never ended up actually doing.

The last good conversation we had was when we ran into each other at Anthology a month ago, when The Bad Plus played. You were extolling the virtues of gin and made me last the good stuff. You don't cheap out on the finer things in life. After the show, we went to the El CaminoJazz Jam because we were still wired from the music, and I felt like I had a compatriot in the appreciation of good music, regardless of style.

Hialeah was the first band I shot at the Casbah, too. A true local music fan, you could always be found by the front of the stage, listening to the opening acts. Even for the bands that only had two people paying attention- you listening and me shooting. Then after the set, we'd discuss and your insights would be so much better than mine.

I wish we'd gotten to know each other better and you were taken way too early. But, I guess heaven needs a kick ass drummer more than we need a kick ass friend.