His voice was one of the most prominent influences on my own blogging, and it was a really fantastic example of what I loved about this medium: Its brashness, honesty, creativity and life. I knew if I went to his site there’d be something to make me angry, something to make me happy (a koala picture with a caption: “Mark Foley tries to fuck me, I’ll claw his fucking eyes out”), something to tell me something new. Military history, race, lifestyle commentary, cooking, hands down, one of the best writers out there.
Steve was incredibly supportive of First Draft. During our last fundraising drive he not only editorialized asking for donations to our cause, he also kicked in some scratch himself. One of the last e-mails I got from him was right before our NOLA trip. He was encouraging and funny, said he’d be happy to come with us if not for the dialysis. I feel I’ve lost a good teacher, and wish I’d known him longer, longer. I can only imagine what those who knew him best must feel. There are these cracks in the foundation, when something like this happens.
I meant to ask you how when everything seemed lost
And your fate was in a game of dice they tossed
There was still that line that you would never cross
At any cost
I meant to ask you how you lived what you believed
With nothing but your heart up your sleeve
And if you ever really were deceived
By the likes of me
Bang the drum slowly play the pipe lowly
To dust be returning from dust we begin
Bang the drum slowly I’ll speak of things holy
Above and below me world without end
—Emmylou Harris, “Bang the Drum Slowly”