The Other Press November 2, 1994 Welcome Back, Cotter! Toronto comic Back on Back on Campus Tour Simon B. Cotter is coming back to Douglas College for another stan up comedy show. Simon B. Cotter’s Back on Campus tour has been a huge success at universities and colleges al over Canada. Cotter gave a show during the ‘ summer semester but unfortunately few people showed up to see this great comedian. I went last semester and had a great time! Cotter jokes about everyday, real life situations that he’s put his own “spin” on. He isn’t one of those offensive comedians who makes the audience uncomfortable. He’s a really funny guy, and a snappy dresser too, so come on out to room 1606 on Tuesday," November 15 from 4:30 to 6:30 pm for ‘ a free comedy show! ae BACHELOR OF ARTS IN LIBERAL STUDIES e and Anthropology Biology Creative Writing English Geography General Studies History Modern Literature — Political Science Psychology Sociology Women's Studies Employers are looking for graduates with academic, teamwork, and personal management skills. Develop these skills through this unique, integrated approach to a Bachelor of Arts degree offered jointly by the University of Victoria and Malaspina University-College in Nanaimo. Are you ready for an exciting challenge? Applications for 3rd year are now being accepted. Call now for information. tre se (604) 741-8757 Nanaimo Campus 900 Fifth Street by Jason Kurylo I haven’t been to class much as of late. It started out as a small patch of apathy, which was slowly growing into a large patch of complete disinterest. In fact, the year for me was starting to resemble 1990. During that year, I lost every shred of concern I ever had in school (at that time, the institution in question was the University of British Columbia), spent most days playing “bubble hockey” at the Pit (the UBC pub), eventually quitting school to work a demeaning job in hell (stocking shelves at the Real Canadian Superstore). Here in 1994, I was in the middle of contemplating blowing my student loan on a trip to Mazatlan when I received some distressing news. A friend of mine, with whom I shared classes with at UBC so long ago, apparently decided that October 2 would be a great day to take a dive from a twelfth floor balcony. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years (and obviously won't be seeing him for some time to come...), but I can’t help feeling a little empty and blank right now. I had always meant to catch up with him, go for coffee, even hit the bar. Of course, I never did. I just don’t get it. Here’s a guy that’s nothing short of brilliant; he devised a makeshift calculus, on his own, in grade ten. And it’s not like he was a bookworm, either. He loved to party, dated like there was no tomorrow, and played the meanest Wayne Gretzky’s bathtub flatulence. He was a good-lookin’ kid, with a nice ‘do. He also had one of the funkiest senses of humour I have ever encountered. The last time I spoke with him, he was in the midst of developing a small software company with another friend of his. He was 20 years old, and he had just bought a house. In fact, I had always told him that if I didn’t like him so darned much, I would have hated him. He was just that sort of guy. In fact, he would have hated this column for its shameless genuflection, its one-dimensional portrait of a god in a man’s body. He would have insisted I mention his tendency to use women, concentrate on his insistence to smoke in bathrooms, and highlight his inability to completely give himself to one project at a time. now, and this is my first attempt to get it out. : Hell, I haven’t seen him forever. What are his parents going through right now? I think about what their emotional states must be right now, and wish he was still alive, so that I could kill him for being so damned selfish. I have no idea what the past three years had given him, or taken away. I have no idea what thoughts raced through his mind as he neared the pavement. I shudder to think drifting friendships (such as my own) could have maybe, possibly, infinitesimally, had a small, teeny, tiny, imperceptible part in his decision to take an airwalk. I realize the futile fruitlessness of it | all, but I wonder what I could have done, given the He would have asked me to [He] played the write about the meanest game of unimaginable horror of Pamela Cameron’s early demise, and the bubble hockey this side of Wayne Gretzky’s bathtub flatulence..." chance. In some ways, I thank him for focusing my spell of scholastic | | apathy. Out of the blue, he distracted questionable society which brings about such circumstances. He would have had me write about the baseball strike (as if anyone cares) or the NHL lockout. He would have had me write about my favourite recipes, for God’s sake, as long as I didn’t dwell on him. What he wouldn’t - and obviously didn’t - understand, is that suicide affects friends and family way more than the “victim.” A column like this is not meant to glorify the dead, nor is it here to make him a martyr. Rather, this is here, selfishly, as a service to no one but me: it is my way of dealing with his me and gave me a reason to be listless and unmotivated. And now, on the cusp of madness, I will probably manage the inspiration to catch up on my missed work. It is, however, infuriating to know something as pointless as his death is what I needed to get back on track. I offer my condolences to his family, his lovers, his friends, and all those who never got a chance to meet him. And, after reading over this Province-esque human interest dreck, I offer condolences to any OP readers | . that have made it this far in my column. One last thing: I’ll miss you, John. 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