Fucked Up Weekends

Good times aren't so good when someone doesn't make it home alive.

Its something that everyone knows I suppose, but no one ever thinks about it until it happens. This weekend, the unthinkable happened.

Larry Dean was a damn fine man. Although I only had the pleasure of knowing him for a brief period of time, he struck me as a guy who had a real knack for living. That love for life showed through in everything he did. His friendly, outgoing nature made him a person you simply enjoyed being around. He was like a fire on a cold night. You could just feel the warmth radiating from him.

That fire went out early Saturday morning when Larry was killed in a car accident. He was killed in a one car accident outside of Frederick Maryland, just hours after we all sang along to Hank Sr.'s I'll Never Get Out of This World Alive. It's such a strange, surreal feeling to know that he will never be out with us again. We'll never see him show his 'Ask Me About My Cock' belt buckle, or show us his latest ink.

We will grieve his loss, and we will carry on with our lives. In time we will still go to shows and enjoy ourselves, just like we always have and just like Larry would have wanted. But we will do so without a good friend. We will also do so with the knowledge that life is a fragile and precious thing, something I don't think any of us will ever take for granted ever again. He will be sorely missed.

The Full Moon Saloon will never seem the same.