Johnny_Rotten wrote:

Views from the Weweantic river estuary 100 paces from his front door. I stopped by Bill's street last night just to see what he was looking at this time of year. If he had felt up for a walk. He did love photography and had caught all the seasons along here. It is a beautiful area and he lived in a quiet neighborhood right along of old 1940s simple cottages that are yet only half rehabbed and updated. 

https://cruelery.com/uploads/359_20200624_190434.jpg

https://cruelery.com/uploads/359_20200624_190340.jpg

https://cruelery.com/uploads/359_20200624_195156.jpg

https://cruelery.com/uploads/359_20200624_183335_33.jpg

Thanks for this!

Auto-edited on 2020-08-02 to update URLs

Can someone sticky this thread?  I think it's only fitting it stays at the top indefinitely.

Roger_That wrote:

Can someone sticky this thread?  I think it's only fitting it stays at the top indefinitely.

Agreed, done.  Thanks to those posting pictures; in addition to the sidepics*, Bill had uploaded a bunch of other images I'd like to sort through.  I'm away from home for several days so will not be able to get to this as soon as I'd like.

*The few sidepics named starting with "hsov" were uploaded by me; all the others were Bill's, although both of us often used an image suggested by someone else.

Auto-edited on 2020-08-02 to update URLs

Found a childhood pic of Bill when browsing some old threads:

This was one of Choad's major peeves:  Municipal corruption.

Man- this breaks my nasty black heart. I've not been posting here much for some time but Choadbag and I stayed in touch via email somewhat, and shared a phone call or ten over the years. I always secretly expected him to be outed as a deep spy at some point (or just be deluded enough to think he was one) Motherfucker was a caring human being. A thousand times I was going to make the trip to Mass and dabble in shrooms and bullshit with Bill but I never got a round tuit. I knew someday I would because we always have plenty of time, right? Fuck.

I also am afflicted with admin powers but have zero idea what that means.

Square (or whomever) I can kick in to help with fees and stuff. Let me know what I can do.

Fuuuuuuuuck.

I know I pissed Bill off and he didn't want me around anymore, but I always held him in high esteem and I'm genuinely sad that he's gone.

Resquiat in pacem Choad, and condolences to the community.

Wilber

Damn, I had no idea until now. This is terrible news. Cruel and HS were the internet parents that shaped me into the can't-be-bothered-by-the-world(wide-web-no-matter-how-deep-you-search) adult I am today.

I always took comfort knowing that there were others like me (just a search bar away) and a perfectly curated pic thread to help me escape this world.

As most mentioned, thanks Monk for letting us know and thanks everyone for keeping this alive.

Last edited by kim (2020-08-03 23:25:24)

Yep, still.

¡Joder! Dropped in to see what's cracking... and what's cracking appears to be this bad news. No shocker, but certainly a sad twist of fate in these cruel end times.

Choad was a consummate smart aleck gifted with his command of the written word. For an individual exhibiting just a hint of curmudgeonly outlook, he was open-minded to hearing everyone speak their part. If speaking their part exposes them as an idiot, so much the better. This is the true role of a journalist.

Thanks Bill for giving this assembly of weirdos & malcontents a home following their exodus from Cruel. I'm pleased to see the inmates taking over the asylum once again, and rallying to keep it going under a new banner as tribute to your wicked good deeds.

Last edited by lechero (2020-09-07 20:44:45)

Hahaha, I can still imagine how Bill would respond to certain things people come up with.  And most certainly to human events happening. Through I am sure I get it quite inaccurately, I didn't know him that well, I hear his thin sardonic wit when necessary. I was sure when he spoke he tinged it with a humanism, he was a kind person after all, but he had a way of critical thinking that made you do a double take when he said something sardonic. The observant writer in him I took it as, was he just that critical or is there something really that fucked up about the person he might be talking about at the moment that I should pay more attention,  He was serious at times in pointing something off kilter out without being bombastic, you could dismiss it, Bill said things slyly, but I realized he had a keen eye when he chose to use it. He got me to consider more closely things I would whitewash over about people and their actions. Something I needed to do more of.

You are welcome to contact me directly, If you did come through the area I am not far and pass his town often so know some of the places he showed me. I would not be the best navigator of unpeeling the layers, I only knew Bill directly over the last decade, when he was ensconced as a hermit.

I am pretty sure though, that Bill himself would laugh off any attempt to visit what has now passed. He would say, Don't bother, what was good about this town has gone down the tubes and would probably say it has taken him with it. There was a love and hate relationship with his old town, and most certainly he witnessed it all change as the modern era ground away whatever he remembered as good about the townspeople. He lived inside this old family history, interwoven into a very old American town. A history he could not fully escape, he saw his own family as made up of some people really hard to love, and they may well have been as bad as he describes. Yet he did escape it by being the black sheep, getting out and becoming a kinder human. I appreciated that part of him and the tales his travels along the way made.

Bill had bit of a hard row. When I met him, he was comfortable in a simple most paired down way for awhile.  When I started hanging out a few visits a season, he had made it safe enough for a time, but felt he was stuck. He talked of a change of scene so he could do something more engaging again. I saw him as a survivor, but he saw his age advancing and his options narrowed.  And eventually saw his health decline coming and worried he would lose it. I said naw man, it's just the pandemic weirdness bringing on a sense of mortal insecurity, but he was more than worried as I learned. It bears listening when people are more worried than the daily baseline insecurity they project.

But that's the end. We can find out about it, it doesn't help to dwell. Really, there is a great middle to Bill's life. There are stories there I do not know. I think he would demure and say don't waste your time on me, but he'd secretly like that the humorous and human interactions he took part in are remembered or retold. What writer does not like to be read? I wish I knew him when I was younger, he would have left an impression then too on my thinking. Sharpened it up a bit. Still does when I think of his point of view on something in front of me, and I thank him for that.

I guess I'm going down to 103 Gibbs Ave. in Wareham soon then.  It's about time I went and paid my respects.

-Emmeran

Memorial Day

XregnaR wrote:

Ah shit.  I've been occupying my time in other ways, and had a random impulse to sully myself.

Now I have the sad.

Bill, we never met IRL, and we bumped heads a few times, but in a good way.

Gonna miss you dude.

As for the rest of you...

Hah, Bill never told me what scrabble he got into with you, but it left him with a articulable level of respect.

Not all memory moments are tinged with sadness. Difficult people make the world much, much more interesting.

Thanks J_R and monkeyboy for helping to fill in the story.  While I could tell things certainly weren't good, I only had the vaguest idea of what was going on in the last few years.

Your suggestions of where to go in Wareham are most welcome.  I'll definitely get in touch with you if I go through with the threat of visiting up there.

Take care, and thanks again to all for taking part here!

https://ibb.co/z682JP0

This is 103 Gibbs Ave for those of you interested.  For some reason I can't embed the photo.

Last edited by Roger_That (2021-06-20 08:14:51)

You can almost see around back where Bill's tomatoes where. What you can't see is the side back door with the short steps up. Thats the best part of that home.  When you pulled in and stepped out of the car to turned around, that is where you would find Bill. He would always get up from his desk by the door to greet me. On any nice day the door would be open so he could feel the air to his left, the desk top with his monitor fit along the back wall under the windows so that the light was let in from the backyard.  A yard where there was a settled peace to look upon and green space allowing for a pause from any neighboring lots.

Bill would often have a tale of some odd if notable interaction from his endeavors in throwing the local elected bastards out and as they teetered on their high horses. I became worried they would bury him first, but he prevailed. At least till the next crop came in. What more can you do? He knew it was a limited result that would only derail the creeping monied interests for so long.

Or even better he would be able to fill in some backstory to the threads that ran thick and hot back in the crueler hey days of High Street's spawning. Usually worth a chuckle to stop by. Though he could just as well impart a sense of existential dread sometimes with the mess he dealt with. Both what swirled inside and all he was enmeshed with in his situation.

Damn. Ya walk away for a while and when you randomly return you find and some real shit has happened.

Sad. Very, very sad.

So I was able to swing a work trip next week to a location about 25 miles away from Wareham.  Coming in midday Wednesday, working til 5:00 Thursday and staying over, flying out on Friday.  Johnny_Rotten, monkeyboy, or whoever, would be great to see you if possible.  Just send me a private message or e-mail info@cruelery.com and we'll work out the details.  If not, will visit on my own and maybe remember to take photos.