So Ashley is off on the road to Shambhala. I want to say something, but it’s tough. I mean, on one hand, I never met the man. The extent of our "relationship" was regular visits to each other’s blogs and a handful of lighthearted emails laughing with (or at) each other regarding something that appeared either here or there. I almost feel like an asshole for presuming the slightest qualification to even comment on his passing in the first place.

The tightrope between being maudlin and being glib is particularly tough to navigate. Fall to either side and you’re unwittingly being unbelievably disrespectful. Then you proofread what you’ve just written, and you wonder if you’re being an even bigger asshole for coming off like it’s all about you. So I promise, I’m gonna shut the hell up about it here pretty soon.

But before I do, I’ve got one more thing to say about it. I’ve been thinking about how poetic and heartlifting it is to realize that, as it turns out, the road to Shambhala begins at the ass end of the infamous Blues Highway right smack dab in Fuckmook City. I mean, how could I not have realized that before? How could it be anywhere else? Just add it to the list of ways Ashley has smartened me up over the last few years. It makes me smile to think he’ll probably see fit to make a quick stop at 5800 Airline for a few minutes along the way to straighten some mooks out and point them in the right direction. Rock on, Ash. Rock on. For those of you who have been affected by his passing far more than I could ever even fathom, you remain in our thoughts. We know that you’ll find peace in one another, and in Ashley’s continuing presence in your lives. And with that, I wish Ashley godspeed and hereby shut up about it, hoping that my words didn’t come off as too presumptuous and self-indulgent.

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