RIP Steve Philips

 Steve Phillips of The Rainmakers; later The Elders, has died, I guess. I saw something about this on a social media post. I did a very superficial g-search, with no confirmation. Fucking Steve Phillips is too common a goddamn name. Anyway. Must be true 'cause I feel it in my soul

Steve Phillips is dead. I’m still alive. God? What the fuck?
In honorarium, I’ve cued up all my Rainmakers. A song I never really paid much attention to hit the slot: “A Million Miles Away.”
Too right.
I walked the 1.5 miles to Specs Liquor to fortify myself, listening to The Rainmakers on the way and back. Listening to them now, pretending to work, but really Drinking On The Job. (So, where would I fit into the fading lyrics? The Litigation Support Analyst got…. Redacted…?”
I envy the dead. They accomplish so much more than I ever will.
Here’s something you won’t ever find anywhere else, but the whole point of this page is drunk honesty:
Steve Phillips is/was a much better guitarist than Jeff Porter. Porter is an excellent musician, no doubt, and a fine song-crafter, but Steve…. Steve could touch that raw/un-disciplined strata to which Porter has difficulty elevating too. There’s something to be said about being a tad sloppy when it is called for.
I’m one to talk. How far has being sloppy gotten me?
Well. To the point where I honestly don’t want to outlive anymore of my heroes. RIP Steve Phillips.
Oh, right, forgot…. MW and Huntington’s Disease. Well, last night she had me go out and buy poster boards, write “Check Stoves” on them, then hang them from the ceiling around all the doors so she can’t leave the house without at least colliding with this warning.
I’m a million miles away from normal, but I’ve nowhere else to go.

I'm so drunk and sad right now.... Did I ever tell you my idea for an HD Awareness T-Shirt? Eggshell blue with text on the front:

HD Care Giver Warrior sitting on the well-used graphic of the CAG DNA string. Then on the back the following message: "The Reason God Created Murder Suicide."

Nice, right? What am I going to do when I get home tonight and everything will be a fucking mess - the kitchen more than likely a safety hazard (burners, toaster over left on) - water, or other liquids, puddled on the floors and debris all over. MW asking me over and over "...so do you see any symptoms" (though you have to concentrate to hear the word through her slurring and stuttering).

What am I going to do?

Drink. Yeah. Drink. Hopefully listen to some more Steve Phillips and the Rainmakers from the 80s. Christ. I'd better fucking die before Tomek or I don't know what I'll do.