strange radiation: the pool of radiance archive
Adventures with an unreliable narrator.
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Dec 2 03: gone
On a truly random impulse, I decided to seek out a fraternity brother of mine today on the Internet. Eric was a remarkable guy, back in the day. He was a Cornell architecture student, which meant that he was (a) wildly creative and (b) really smart and (c) hugely driven to do the work his degree required of him, which was a lot, and (d) chronically sleep deprived as a result. I loved spending time with him. He made me feel like the random images and ideas and half-formed jokes that rattled around my head were interesting and worth using. He let me hang out in his room when I was depressed and wouldn’t tell anybody why.
His mother saved my life once, although I don’t think she realized it at the time. It was during a low point in the great Machismo Summer of 1990: I was heartsick and lonely and was about to go wandering out into the evening to stare off a bridge for a while. Eric was in the kitchen with his mother, Susan, who was visiting from California. She was an artist. She had a fascinating accent (English-moved-to-South-Africa parents, although she was raised in Brazil) and a gentle voice. They were cooking themselves a meal. I think she could tell that I hadn’t been eating my vegetables lately—or perhaps, given that I was a college student, she just took it as a given. She handed me a golden bell pepper that had been intended for their salad and I wolfed it down. It was the best thing I’d ever tasted. I hung about in the kitchen as they cooked. Susan was, as it turned out, a spectacular chef. Somehow, in the space of ten minutes, the company and that pepper put the spring back into my step. I left Susan and Eric to their meal. I don’t know where I went, when I strolled out into the twilight, but I remember feeling good to be alive.
Later I found out that Susan was famous: that she was in fact Susan Seddon Boulet, an painter of the visionary school with a big following. I still preferred to remember her for the pepper.
After he left Ithaca he went back to the Bay Area, so I would see him every now and then. He lived in a converted warehouse space in Emeryville for a while. It was full of random peculiar small-press magazines and half-finished paintings and assorted percussion instruments and pieces of junk that might look good in a sculpture someday. A couple of years after I moved to New York I lost touch with him. I heard through friends that he had taken up tattooing—that he was going to be a tattoo artist, that he had been practicing on the backs of his hands and on navel oranges. To my knowledge, none of the folks I know know where he is today. He wandered off the map and didn’t come back.
Eric is one of those friends that you stop seeing but you never stop wondering how they are. So today I looked him up.
It didn’t really pan out. Google knows a lot of Erics, but I could only find him once among the crowd. It was a reference on a bulletin board devoted to the San Francisco Goth scene: a woman talking about how this guy she used to know named Eric had been so close to his mother and had taken it so hard when she died….
Susan Seddon Boulet died of breast cancer in 1997. An artists’ fellowship was established in her memory, but I can’t find anything online more recent than 2000. The goth woman in San Francisco lost track of Eric in 1998.
I guess the world is like this, although it’s something I hate to admit. People go away.
I don’t really know what I’m trying to say here. I should probably stop. Thank you Susan, for saving my life, or at least making me eat my vegetables. Thank you Eric, for being an enigmatic and inspiring object on the plains of memory. Are you out there?
UPDATED: An obsessive brain is good for a thing or two. Turns out that Eric is alive and well and even married, and I’ve found someone who can get a note to him for me. Maybe we’ll quickly go back to only speaking once a year, but still. The world is more fun when you know for sure that such people are yet in it.
Commentary
I’m glad to see you found Eric. I was super glad to find you via Google. That was a lovely story. Nice to hear your voice in my head from time to time.
posted by Jamey, Dec 6 03 4:18 AM
Hi there, I met Susan just before she passed away at a book signing in Rhinebeck NY & she told me @ Eric & how he was learning to tattoo @ the time & I was too @ & have been ever since ;) Just wanted to drop him a line if possible @ that day, she was so wonderful~ Thanks, Tanya
posted by Tanya, Nov 14 05 5:15 PM
Hello,
I happen to find your site randomly. Funny how the world works. I don’t know if you have tracked Eric down yet, but if you wish I can let him know you are looking for him. I grew up with Eric and we’ve been friends since diapers. Feel free to drop me a line.
Take Care,
Thorston
posted by Thorston, Mar 26 06 1:22 AM
Jamie Comer ? / Thor Clippert ? ATHENIAN ALUMS OF 1987 ???
I have been looking for ERIC almost as long as I’ve lived in New Jersey !!! (1990? / 1991?)
I have missed him so much: we used to be such a foursome: Eric, Mikael Linnick ( patria_lai@comcast.net ), my sister Chelsea:
(chelseabaconnewyorkaerialtheater@heliogram.com), and I, (hildaleez@psychoticeye.) were such good friends in high school: I regret so often that Eric and I lost touch…
PLEASE pass along my well-wishes, LOVE, and, possibly even my e-mail address: hildaleez@msn.com
Thank you so much,……………….in PEACE… Hilary Bacon 1987
posted by Hilary Bacon, Nov 6 06 6:25 PM
Thor Clippert ? (s.p.?) / ATHENIAN SCHOOL, Danville, CA ?
I’ve been looking for Eric almost as long as I’ve relocated, (from the corner of Diablo Road and Mt. Diablo Scenic Blvd. to the East Coast): I am now, officially, a “Jersey Girl”: over ten years of long nails and steel fabrication.
I regret, the last visit I got to have with Eric and Susan, was at their little place in Oakland: on Manilla Ave.; walking distance from the Rockridge(?) B.A.R.T station. She made us delicious ginseng tea, and gave me an autographed children’s book that she had just illustrated, “Buffalo Gal Won’t You Come Out Tonight?”
I think of Eric every time our mutual friend, Mikael Linnick, sends pictures of his tattoos.
I wonder how Eric’s tatto-passion is persuing: he’d only done a “RECYCLE” sign on part of his body and “S L I M” on his knuckles the last time I was lucky enough to visit with him in CA.
Can your “SOMEONE” get a not to Eric from ME?
I WOULD LOVE ( underscore, underscore / capital letters / exclamation points / underscore, underscore ) to talk to him again, to tell him how much I’ve thought about him……………….
Please give him my love…
Peace to you………..H.B.
posted by Hilary Bacon, Nov 6 06 6:32 PM
>>>>> E >>>>> R >>>> I >>>>> C >>>>
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHERE >>>>>>>> ARE >>>>>>>>>> YOU >>>>>
??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
I think of you so often, … your long lost friend,
who loves and misses
you very much……..H
posted by Hilary Bacon, Nov 17 06 5:53 PM
Hi Hilary,
I was just curious about Mikael and came upon your website. Low and behold I find news about Athenian… Eric, Jamie. Pretty cool. I have no impressive news. (Just having some interesting memories about these memorable people.) Eric would remember a crazy incident with Ben Broyles and ofcourse Jamie with photography and practicing lines from Sam Shepard for acting class. Anyway, I hope everyone is well. I’m hanging in there. Like I said, nothing impressive, just fond thoughts.
Whitney
posted by Whitney Fuller, Feb 22 08 11:48 AM
I knew Eric in high school. Although our high school was small, I did not know him very well. I am glad you found him. With our 20-year reunion coming up, I too was curious about Mikael and found your blog through a search. Thankfully, I found all this Athenian traffic! It’s awesome how all the names and groups mentioned in the postings bring back memories for me. I hope everyone is doing well. I’d be happy to hear from any Athenian — huuughes@gmail.com.
posted by Bill Hughes, Apr 1 08 5:58 PM
Thor Klippert here.
Hilary! Whitney! Jamie?
I don’t know who Thorston is, though there was a kid by that name my freshman year, way back in ‘83/’84 and people confused us with each other.
The last time I saw Eric Boulet was at least five years ago at the Starry Plough, watching my brother perform at BeastFest. He appeared to have straightened out thanks to a new girlfriend. I am led to understand he lives in Argentina now, presumably through some legacy of his mother’s.
Thanks to Bill for pointing me to this blog.
Mikael, if you’re reading— what happened? You were registered for reunion but nobody saw you.
posted by Thor, Jun 8 08 1:35 AM
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