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“You’ve reached Richard S. Gimbel the Second. Adjunct Professor, a Fashion Designer, and Visual Merchandising. Maker of unique apparel items and accessories. Amateur investigator. Native Phoenician and U.S. Patriot. Disc Jockey and traveling talent support. Likes architecture, confused by Burning Man. Please leave a message ranked in a scale of importance of 1 to 10. 1 being the invitation for a casual coffee date and 10 being the directions to a fall-out shelter on the eve of an impending nuclear Winter. Thank you. Have a good day.”
Richard Scott Gimbel II, February 17th, 1979 – January 15th, 2012.
10. Always 10 ever since.
I miss you.
Every day.
This entry was written by , posted on January 15, 2015 at 3:26 pm, filed under Friends, Love and tagged Richard Gimbel, Richard S. Gimbel, Richard Scott Gimbel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
I’ve had this post in my drafts folder for about a month. I guess it’s never going to feel right, so I’ll post it now.
———-
Let’s be honest here. And by ‘let’s’, I can only mean me. I am sad. It comes and goes, and it comes less often than it did but when it does, it’s no less heartbreaking.
I want to talk about our last conversation.
I want to talk about every single memory.
But not quite, in its entirety. At least not yet.
I took a shower this morning, I cried in the shower. I started making a list of things I felt I had learned from feeling pretty fucked up in the past few weeks.
P.S. It’s for me, mostly.
1. Fall in love. A lot.
I don’t have a lot of time. With people. In one place.
It comes with the territory of not having had a home address in years. So people often wonder how much you can possibly love a person in mere months or weeks or days.
Have you ever had a moment?
When your world started to shift
revolve around a person.
I probably fell in love with Richard by the third night I had spent any time with him. We were on his red velvet couch. He lay a mass of ginger curls on my chest. Just for a second, maybe seventeen of them. And I knew I’d always have an immensely, intensely, emotional reaction to whatever it was that he would ever do did. We didn’t have a lot of time. I couldn’t have loved him any later or less. I would not have forsaken it for anything.
So fall in love. Whole-heartedly and as often as you’d like. Even just for the 20 minutes it takes to lie on the driveway in front of a McDonald’s to make out with someone you’ve just met. I have. And it was great.
2. Write it down. Especially if it’s important, even when it’s difficult.
A few weeks before Richard died, I found out he had written me a letter. He said it was probably best that it was at the bottom of his car getting wetter by the day. I don’t have that letter. I wish I did, and if there is any way I could read what he had wanted to say to me regardless of its contents and sentiments, I would.
I read his journals when we last played house. I tell people this was an asshole thing I did but really it’s the kind of thing I would do unapologetically. If I can learn something –anything– more about a person I care about, I will.
Some of it was unsettling, but mostly amusing. It was all important. It was important for me to know his thoughts – whether mundane, dark, or genius alike. It’s important to me that I knew him.
I also wrote a lot about him. I adored him at times and hated him at others. The way we related, he called it ‘tumultuous’. And in these whiskey encouraged extremes, I wrote. I’ve read them over and over. To remember.
Write it all down – one day you may want to remember it, too.
3. Know what you want. Deliver others what they want.
In my last hour with Richard, I had ordered a cup of tomato soup, a side of potato salad, and a side of arugula salad with shaved parmesan. Then the server asked if I wanted to get a combo of 3 sides. The list of permitted options in his proposed combo contained none of the things I had originally ordered so I said “No, thank you” with a look. A look that said “No, thank you. You idiot.”
Dick laughed. “This guy obviously doesn’t know you. You of all people know exactly what you want.”
He was right. I’m not very compromising. I know what I want, and I fight to get it. Sometimes that didn’t help our cause, but it was what I wanted. Y’see Richard dumped me years ago because I had to travel with my job and he wanted a stable, local girlfriend. I’m very grateful and happy with where I am even if it meant letting go of potentially wonderful relationships because that’s what felt right at the time.
I love my job, the city, and the people I surround myself with. He fell in love the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen and they made art and love and a home while it lasted.
I think we both found what we needed, afterall.
4. Keep the ones you love in your life.
It was months before we spoke again. Richard had ended things with me over BBM and I had the drunkest night of my life. I deleted him out of my phone, and blocked him on facebook. Four months had passed. He called. Ever the sweetheart, of course he’d be the first to reach out.
We became friends again and infrequently lovers. We kept each other updated, but mostly each other in check. I was dismissive a lot of the time. I’m sorry, Richard. I hope you know I care.
I found out that he had died through a friend of a friend’s facebook status.
It sounds so fucking stupid but I hated myself for blocking him on facebook. Over the years, he thought it was funny and we made a pact not to pry in each other’s social media profiles. But it seemed so overwhelmingly important to be able to see photos of him. All the hilariously ridiculous updates that I had missed. Every heartfelt message left from our grieving friends.
But then I remembered that’s what he had wanted. For us to share what we had to share between us when we could – in person, by phone, or text. A personal connection. At least I had that. All of our memories. And I can’t imagine how much worse I would feel if he’d never been a part of my life again.
It may be hard at times, nor the best idea at others but eventually, reach out and keep the ones you love in your life. Don’t be cruel. You don’t want to regret losing someone for good.
Richard, you said you had a dream that I’d told you I wished I’d never have met you. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Every day I wish you were still here. At bus stops, in elevators, every street corner of downtown LA, I think of you. I miss you. You are loved so dearly.
Later, Ginger.
This entry was written by , posted on March 4, 2012 at 9:26 pm, filed under Friends, Los Angeles, Love, Writing and tagged DTLA, Echo Park, La Cita, Millie's Cafe, Mustache Mondays, Richard Gimbel, Richard S. Gimbel, Richard Scott Gimbel, Silverlake. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
I will love you always.
Downtown LA has lost its sweetheart.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I miss you so devastatingly.
I love you, Richard.
Be better, wee ginger.
This entry was written by , posted on January 16, 2012 at 2:07 am, filed under Friends, Los Angeles, Love and tagged Richard Gimbel, Richard S. Gimbel, Richard Scott Gimbel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
“I was afraid. I reached out and touched her long hair. The hair was magic. I pulled my hand away. “Is all that hair really yours?” I asked. I knew it was. “Yes,” she said, “it is.” I put my hand under her chin and very awkwardly I tried to turn her head toward mine. I was not confident in these situations. I kissed her lightly.”
– Women, Charles Bukowski
I think I’ve settled on a name for this series. I’m going to call it
Darling you
And that’s all I have to say about this photo.
This entry was written by , posted on November 22, 2011 at 5:11 am, filed under Babes, Darling you, Friends, Los Angeles, Love, Photos and tagged Richard Gimbel, Richard S. Gimbel, Richard Scott Gimbel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
Candis Marie
Richard Scott
2 Gimbels 1 car.
This entry was written by , posted on July 17, 2011 at 9:25 pm, filed under Friends, Los Angeles, Photos and tagged Candis Gimbel, Echo Park, LACMA, Richard Gimbel, Richard S. Gimbel, Richard Scott Gimbel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.