*shiprat

Disregard emoticon. Think of something gloomy, sad, emo, whatever. I am not in Wow mode at all. I'm quite pissed off at the cruelty of reality.

Michael Turner died.

I thank my friend for being an avid comic collector, and subscribing to one of his many magazines that tributed a obituary on Michael's behalf.

Here's a story:

Almost a year ago, the Lincoln pulled into San Diego a few days before ComicCon. I heard Michael was going to be there, and I was planning on going...until, of course, we would pull out just before it started. I said to myself, okay, but next time we hit land, I'm going to see Mike and tell him how much of an inspiration he is to me, show him my work, and tell him that not all artists have to die to be famous.

Well...we're on another Westpac and now we're in the gulf and right when we hit the halfway point of the cruise...I receive the news.

And All That Could Have Been...it's Something I Can Never Have.

Trent, don't leave me now. You're my last piece of my soul for everything I do. And I have to tell you. Michael inspired my art style, you inspired how to feel, and what to draw, and write. Truly, in my nothing, you are my everything. And if Non-Humans are taking you away from me, I will chase you, and bring you back from death, so I, at least, can say you meant a lot to me, and neither one of us will die of regret.