The Nature of Our Online Immortality

A gentleman that I only barely knew passed away a couple of nights ago. He was a character. A regular Hunter S. Thompson (I reckon that's an oxymoron, huh?) sort of fella. But don't take my word for it. Those who knew him far better than I have already memorialized him on their blogs:

Eileen Smith at In the Pink Texas

Harold Cook at Letters from Texas

Karen Brooks at DMN Trailblazers

Or you can get a sense of the man straight from the horse's mouth from one of his four (count 'em!) blogs:

Billy Clyde's Political Hot Tub Party

Local and Uncontested

TXGOP4OBAMA

YouGottaPlayHurt

I met Billy Clyde through a couple of now incredibly dear mutual friends who I happened to first meet online in the comments section at In the Pink Texas. Beyond one dinner we shared and a couple of phone calls, the rest of our interaction occurred online. (We were supposed to go to a UT basketball game once, too, but he TOTALLY STOOD ME UP. The nerve!) So, when I heard the sad news late Thursday evening, I immediately went to You Gotta Play Hurt to see what he'd posted last and when. Throughout Friday morning, I exchanged emails with a couple of the gals and dropped in on various blogs to see what was being said.

I was profoundly moved by it all in a way that I still can't quite put into words. I suppose it all comes down to his being the first passing on of someone from my immediate online community. There's something at once deeply comforting and at the same time all the more tragic that comes from realizing that his words will live on, for as long as there's an internet, I suppose. But there won't be any new observations from his particular point of view. That's a damn shame, because it was an informed one and so very unique.

In much the same way that I can't hear about someone else's parent dying without wondering how much longer I have with mine, I find myself contemplating the significance of the portion of our lives lived online. What will our legacy be? There's so much more rattling 'round in my head tonight, but I'm so exhausted just now that I can barely keep my eyes open. This will have to do. Rest easy, Billy Clyde. Know that you have once again given me something to think about.