The Loss of an Angelic Soldier (for Marcus Shepherd)

December 2, 2011

NOTE: I wrote this November 10th, the day Marcus passed away. I haven’t been on the internet so I am posting it now and I still feel everything I wrote.

Lost another soldier. A soldier of angelic visions and pain. A true warrior of lost souls finding his way. As many times he wandered off the path of enlightenment he always came back to share the sometimes soutrageous yes spiritual paths he found.

Marcus died today. My muse. My confidant. My hero. My friend.

A friend of almost 20 years. As best as he could be. Good enough for me. We became each other despite our extreme differences.

Never have I experienced a friendship that transcended reality like the one I had with Marcus. Marcus Shepherd. A million private jokes. A million laughs. A million cries. A million trips outside and inside ourselves discovering, discussing and over analyzing emotions, theories, thoughts and the world surrounding our soft child like yet genius brains.

He was the only friend that knew everything about me and actually understood me. Missing him is an understatement at this point. At any point. In and out of my life at times as friendships do yet always in thoughts and prayers.

I met him in March 1992 and knew there was something special there. I never dreamed we’d play in bands together, live together and become so close. I couldn’t imagine that this tall skinny guy in eyeliner with long full black hair that wears frilly shirts and leather pants would become my inspiration turning me on to writers I never heard of like Jean Genet, punk bands like Television and even foreign films like Goddard. A new world sparked from this unusual friendship.

His visions, which I once thought were bullshit, unfolded in front of me. Light and dark. We talked of these things. We talked for hours about the here and now as well. Our emotions and desires. Exposing each deep secret we’ve ever had through the years.

We hung out at coffee shops in our 30s like 2 art school kids to meet artists and people to inspire us especially the girls. Then we discussed our love for them. The women. The art girls. Frantically, desperately seeking our soul mates from any hot young artist girl.

I helped him discover that he was just as superficial at times as the rest of us the way he brought the artist and serious poet out in me.

I could go on and on and I probably will about stories and adventures of the man I call friend and mean it. Keep reading. As much as I miss him, I know he is part of me and will stay here.


Don’t Read This if You’re a Member of facebook

July 30, 2010

Another friend deleted me on facebook. A real friend in real life. You know facebook, right? Everybody is on it. I’ll bet your grandmother is on there. Right? It’s just a social networking site. Why does it bother me? Why do I bother other people? It’s just an internet web site to post pictures, talk, make comments to each other and try and have fun in between living in the real world. It’s also addicting for me. I’m an addict.

In the spring of 2003 someone I knew told me about this site called Friendster. You probably never heard of it, right? It was like MySpace and facebook but a little more primitive. I went on there to make new friends and maybe meet a woman. I went on some dates and it didn’t work out but at least I was networking a little bit and taking to new people. I liked it.

During the summer of 2003 one of my Friendster “friends” told me about this new and exciting site called MySpace so I tried it out. I liked it. It was a lot of people with interests like myself and I started to go wild on there. I was finding old friends and meeting new friends. I started dating from there too. I went on a lot of dates and talked to a lot of people that summer. Then I discovered “blogs” or journaling. I had tried journals online before but without knowing if anyone was reading it I felt like it was worthless.

It started when a friend of mine started writing to impress each other and ourselves. Then a girl got involved so the three of us would write and comment on each other’s writing. I was really into the feedback as well as the writing. I basically wrote the way I did now telling stories of my real life and my feelings and reactions with the occasional story and poem thrown in. It became bigger than the three of us. Other people started commenting and writing as well. MySpace became my new artistic outlet. I soon started writing a novel. That’s another story.

I was on there for years and eventually used it to market my bands. I used it to book bands when I was a booking agent for a local bar. Between the writing and promoting I really made full use of MySpace. Of course I kept social networking and making new friends and finding old ones. It was a great time on the internet.

A friend sent me an invite to join this other social networking site called facebook. I wasn’t really interested and I threw together a half assed profile in 2006 and pretty much forgot about it for well over a year. Friends at work kept bugging me to get on there. “I wrote on your wall last week and you didn’t comment.” They’d say. I didn’t know what a wall was. Great another language I had to learn. Suddenly MySpace started filling up with more and more people that were less social or interesting and I kept getting friend requests on this facebook thing. What made it a little more interesting is that people I haven’t seen or heard from in years were contacting me including family members.

I joined everyone else as facebook started to boom and take over the social networking market. After I learned how to utilize it I started to like it. I kept writing on MySpace. I felt more free on MySpace since I was fiends with family and friends that didn’t know what I was about on facebook. I kept my facebook fairly tame for this reason and I was picky on whom I was friends with. I only wanted to be friends with those I actually knew. This was a lot of people because I had a lot of internet buddies from MySpace jumping over and requesting me. As long as I knew them it was cool.

I’ve become pretty addicted to using facebook. I enjoy networking, sharing videos, etc. I still held back a lot of my darker stuff and thoughts because of the family and certain friends that I didn’t know that well. I do post a lot of things because I love being on there.

When I got fired from my job in May 2010 I made a decision to stop censoring myself and start promoting myself in all internet avenues. MySpace was drying up and less people were reading and commenting on my blogs. I created my own blog site on wordpress.com. richhillenjr.wordpress.com. I started linking it to my facebook profile. I also started making videos for my poetry, spoken word and songs. I created a “fan” page for myself on facebook as well. My goal is to keep everything linked together and use facebook to promote myself and I figured I’d make some new friends as well. Have fun and network. That’s what facebook is all about for me today. I started reaching out and finding more and more friends that have things or friends in common and request their “friendship”. I accept anyone’s request unless they look like a spammer that just wants to sell things. That’s ok too. For them. I like to mix it up and hope that the people I am friends with get what I’m about and like what I sell or write or do.

I take a chance everyday that I’m going to piss someone off or offend them with something I say on there. The people I thought I might scare off surprise me as well as my close friends. The family and friends that I though might get offended or get tired of me posting too much tell me that they like what I do and some of my close friends that I thought got me deleted me. I admit that my feelings get a little hurt when this happens but since they are my friends I ask them. Their answers are either that they are tired of logging on and seeing a bunch of posts from me or that some of my pictures or comments were offensive to them. At least they admit to the reasons. I shouldn’t really care. In the long run I don’t but sometimes it bothers me.

We are all different people and perceive things differently. They have the right to delete me as much as I have the right to say or post whatever I want. That is that, right?

It sure took a lot of words just to say that my friends deleted me. Thanks fro reading. Ha.


%d bloggers like this: