You were the only one who really made me feel welcome here
Krys from Australia
If there was another way of thinking
I first met Jamie about a year ago when
I noticed his posts on the writer's group, the PleasureDome. I
remember thinking, what a character! Must get to know him..And I'm so
pleased that I did. We began chatting about our lives, philosophy,
spirituality and anything else that came to mind and I soon became
aware of the fact that Jamie was one of the most interesting, unique,
people that I've had the privilege to know.
Jamie was a man with a brilliant sense
of humour. We laughed together so many times. And I couldn't begin to
count the times that I've been glued to the screen
watching his posts appear which were often absolutely hilarious.
I knew Jamie as a compassionate man who
would always be there if you needed to talk. He lived his life with a
passion and with an unbounded love for his family and friends.
I miss you, Jamie.
Ages ago, a character calling himself
“Lambeckle” turned up on an msn site called RationalMadness. He
posted some fascinating stuff; asking, are you a fat thinker? and
other such questions. And there was a wonderful poem about the
teeny-weenie-tiny men. Most people who replied were nonplussed.
They didn’t know what to make of him. But rather than frowning,
his posts made me smile. And thus began my friendship with Jamie.
We came from different worlds, but we
understood each other. We frequently infuriated each other… but
there was also so much laughter, so much fun. And so much
creativity. Jamie invited me to join another msn group, the
PleasureDome. He considered this one his real home, although he was
a member of many others over the years. He started posting his
autobiography: the wonderful “whatever became of tights?”
Brilliant stuff, but often incomprehensible to anyone who didn’t
know him and how his mind worked. So I took on the job of editor.
Together we created “Bubbles of Turbulent Delights”. His life;
his words; his story – ‘translated’ into a text that anyone
could read and enjoy. During this time he also wrote wonderful
poetry, and inspired me to stretch my imagination and grow as a poet
I knew that he was sick, and he knew
that I was sick. He took the time to learn about my illness, to
understand it. He worried so about me at times, when all the time
his own illness was so much more severe. I thought he was
indestructible. He’d survived so much… but the vehicle finally
broke down irrevocably. The engine will still be whirring away
somewhere. Perhaps he’s walking with his prophet now, discussing
the third sex option; perhaps he’s been granted his wish of coming
back as a cannabis plant, to give someone a few moments of pure
I miss the creativity; the way we
sparked off each other. I miss the chats, laughing our heads off
over the latest shenanigans on the Dome. I miss him telling me all
the news about his family; what the boys and Corrie were getting up
to, and of course all the affectionate little tales about Mo.
I miss my friend.