It's not until you're in the midst of the most searing and inescapable grief of your life...

...that you realize the staggering amount of truly gorgeous and helpful death songs U2 has produced over the years.

I raise my Valium and Halloween candy to you, you beautiful Irish bastards.

So, omniscient deity, if you exist:

My best friend is dead and Glenn Beck still draws breath.

Nice work, asshole.

TJ's family has set up a site with a moving obituary...

...and details regarding the memorial, where you can send donations in lieu of flowers, and other pertinent information:

http://tjlangleymemorial.com/

Information re TJ's memorial/celebration of life and additional details:

Hey, all. TJ's memorial/celebration of life will, quite fittingly, take place at the new(ish) Mountaineers Building this Friday, October 16th, from 3:00 to 5:00 p.m. Address: 770 Sandpoint Way NE, Seattle, 98115, in Goodman Rooms A and B. Many of you have asked what you can do to help. There will be a slideshow. Send me photos soon at ldremousis@yahoo.com and I'll send them to Stephen, who is overseeing it.

We are all grieving, but unquestionably, TJ would want us to have a bit of fun with this, so if some of the photos are goofy, well, all the better. Let's give our lad the send off he deserves.

Also, please don't take it personally if I haven't returned your deeply kind phone call or email yet. I am shattered and need to not talk about it today or tomorrow. TJ was due at my place last Tuesday night at 7:00 p.m. and TJ always sent me a "Home safe!" email the first thing he was in the door, always sent me his itinerary, and always let me know when to "officially" worry.

The tipping point for the latter on this trip was late afternoon Wednesday. Hence a number of you seeing me at Sherman's Tuesday evening reading and Dave's noon reading on Wednesday last week. TJ, like all climbers, had encountered unforeseen but essentially benign circumstances previously and returned to Seattle several hours late, but never so late he was in the officially designated worry zone.

At 4:00 p.m. Wednesday, I left TJ a voicemail and when I still hadn't heard from him by 7:30 p.m., I let his closest climbing partner/great guy/heroic friend, Tim, know that TJ was late. And immediately, Tim, TJ's extraordinarily intelligent and kind, sister, Joy, and I kicked into gear. Tim actually left that night, a full 12 hours ahead of the Chelan County Search and Rescue. Then right away, additional truly heroic climbing friends joined the Search and Rescue teams and, indeed, surpassed the efforts of the professionals. Joy received information from the SAR teams, relayed it to me, and I disseminated it to relevant parties and to TJ's copious friends.

I don't think I can say these words out loud again this week without falling apart. And all of us still have Friday to get through. It will be a celebration of TJ's amazing and singular life, but celebration or not, a number of us are churning in agony.

And I hope this doesn't sound unkind, but if no one would call before 10:00 a.m. West Coast time, I would really appreciate it. A number of us have barely slept in a week and the last three days I've been woken by early phone calls after only having fitfully slept a few hours.

Thank you again, all of you, for everything. The outpouring of love for TJ and for his friends means more than I can possibly convey. And I will definitely be in touch with each of you very soon.

Much love,
Litsa

Thanks so much, all of you, for your deeply kind thoughts re my beloved...

...friend, TJ. My eyes hurt to blink I've cried so much and then I think of something wonderful he said or did and I laugh. I am devastated and, unquestionably, in shock.

What follows is a highly detailed and accurate account of TJ's search and rescue and recovery, posted by TJ's friend, Jason Griffith, who was part of the search and rescue team. Scroll down to the bottom to the longer post under the username, "Heinrich":

http://cascadeclimbers.com/forum/ubbthreads.php/topics/914064/Re_Missing_climber_in_the_Buck#Post914064

TJ's sister, Joy Langley, is the media spokesperson regarding TJ Langley:

Hey, TJ's boundless group of friends.

TJ's sister, Joy Langley, has asked that all of us decline media requests and allow her to field media inquiries and interviews and I agree with her 100%. As someone who frequently interviews people, I understand, as we all do, that reporters are merely doing their job, but it makes the most sense for there to be one media spokesperson and for it to be TJ's adored and supremely intelligent sister, Joy.

KIRO very nicely approached me and I declined for the above reasons. Then the reporter asked if anyone in Seattle's theater community would speak on camera and I politely explained that, no, they wouldn't, out of respect for the family's wishes. Please get the word out to, as I said, TJ's boundless group of friends.

Thanks so much,
Litsa

TJ Langley's sister, Joy, has asked that I bring everyone...

...together at 10 pm at the Six Arms on Pike and Melrose on Capitol Hill.

No further updates yet. Keep praying and sending great thoughts to bring our lad home alive, safe, and immediately. And thank you all for extraordinary kindness.

The latest on my best friend, TJ Langley, from KING 5 News and, again, hope:

Please see the latest from KING 5 News below. Note it also includes TJ was spotted alive and presumably well by other climbers on Wednesday. Which means whatever happened didn't occur, say, Sunday, and, of course, is a more hopeful situation. Also, it contains footage of the interview KING 5 did with TJ a decade ago, after he was mauled by the bear at Yellowstone. What cracks your heart: he playfully holds up his acting headshot and then pulls it away to reveal the crisscross of then-new scars. And his beloved and delightfully goofy cat, Elvis, who died last year at 18, cozies in his lap the whole time:

http://www.king5.com/topstories/stories/NW_100909WAB-missing-hiker-chelan-KC.20003826c.html

Also, as I just posted on my Facebook page, the search for TJ is underway again today. And because it's the weekend, more A-list and highly experienced climbers are helping the Chelan, King, and Snohomish County Sheriffs' Offices with the search.

We love you. Come home now.

The Seattle Times has picked up the story and paints...

...a different picture than the Wenatchee paper, leaving out that TJ was probably identified alive and well on Wednesday. (Therein lies the hope: whatever happened didn't happen on say, Sunday.) However, the Seattle Times reports that the King and Snohomish County Sheriff Offices are collaborating in the search now, and, of course, this indicates an increased level of seriousness, but it also means additional experts are searching. And they also report a small plane was able to aid in the search today, which means the wheels are still turning. (Side note to the first two Seattle Times commenters who posted messages beneath the article so far: if I find you, I will choke you to death w/ your own dicks.)

Seattle Times piece:

http://community.seattletimes.nwsource.com/reader_feedback/public/display.php?thread=193883&offset=0#post_880328

Some hopeful news re TJ:

Here is the latest news I just posted on my FB page:

http://www.wenatcheeworld.com/news/2009/oct/09/search-begins-for-missing-seattle-hiker/

And here is what I posted w/ it:

"Some hopeful news: according to this new Wenatchee newspaper piece, TJ's pack was believed to be spotted by copter on Thursday (more on that in a sec) and the Chelan County Sheriff's Office is reporting they spoke w/ climbers in the area who saw someone matching TJ's description alive and well on Wed. It it worth noting that none of this information was relayed by the Sheriff's Office to the three of us at the top of the communication coordination effort. (What the hell?) Still, it is hopeful news. Please, everyone, continue w/ your good wishes and/or prayers as the search is off for tonight but will resume again in the morning. And much love to all of you for your extraordinary kindness toward TJ, the Langely family, to me, and all his many friends. It means more than I can articulate."

Feel free to disseminate far and wide.

Description, presumed locale, et al of my best friend, TJ Langley (legal name George Terry Langley Jr.), who has been missing in the North Cascades...

...for the past 48 hours:

http://cascadeclimbers.com/forum/ubbthreads.php/topics/914064/Re_Missing_climber_in_the_Buck#Post914064

Please click for photos and additional pertinent information. Please forward to climbing and/or outdoor folks. Or anyone, really. The more people who know to keep an eye out, the better.

If you have viable information, contact me at ldremousis at yahoo dot com and I'll forward it to the Chelan County Sheriff's Office or you can contact them directly.

Please continue to keep TJ and his family in your prayers and/or thoughts of any stripe. And please see my previous post for additional details.

Good wishes, please:

My best friend has been on a solo climb in the North Cascades since Sunday morning; he is now 48 hours late. Yesterday the Chelan County Sheriff's Office found his car at the trail head, but not him. From 2:00 to 4:00 p.m., they looked for him by helicopter. In an hour, the on-foot search and rescue effort begins, aided by several of his very good (and great) climbing friends, many of whom I've become pals with. In the past day and a half, I have said every prayer and profanity I know. I don't purport to know how the universe works, but good wishes of any stripe for my deeply kind, incredibly intelligent, and sometimes pigheaded dear friend are deeply appreciated. Much love, TJ.

Musician Tai Shan and the October 10th benefit for People for Puget Sound (because it's divine when artists really do give back):

My friend, the deeply talented and peach sweet musician, Tai Shan, is playing the October 10th benefit for People for Puget Sound, an incredibly effective environmental agency dedicated to cleaning one the region's most pastoral and economically essential water bodies.

If you haven't already, you can discover more about Tai, her crave-it-like-candy music, and the upcoming fundraiser, which Governor Christine Gregoire is attending:

http://www.taishanmusic.com/

http://www.pugetsound.org/

And because we could all use a bit of loveliness today:

The historical Benson Hotel, last Thursday evening, my final of three nights in Portland. (Again, thank you Expedia recession-fueled discount!)

There are so many deeply intelligent and talented and kind inividuals in the world and I've...

...been fortunate enough to work with a number of them of late.

But you know how there is usually that one person who sends your mind tiptoeing toward thoughts of ear-flicking and spitwads? Yeah, that.

For the past eleven years, I've been asked, "Why do you have pet bunnies?" This is why I have pet bunnies. The joy I derive from them has, thus far, preempted felonies I otherwise might have attempted, plus they are among the smartest, cleverest, and super-cutest creatures on earth. (There are evolutionary reasons for this I won't detail now, but rabbits, like most prey animals, are startling clever because otherwise they would be some jackal's mid-afternoon snack.)

So, let us all pause and thank the bunnies on what has been an oddball day because without them, someone might have gotten a bag of flaming dog crap on their welcome mat.

Newly effective ways to make yourself nuts:

• Volunteer to become your building's condo secretary because your neighbors, by and large, are deeply awesome and you'd rather take on a job for which you're qualified than get drafted for one at which you'd blow.
  
• Approach said position in an egalitarian manner, sending out missives in which you underscore "the Condo Board is not Fidel Castro" and that you welcome viable input.
• Check your inbox.
  

Six questions for Ralph Nader, who is reading at Powell's Books in Portland tomorrow, October 4:

1) At one point, you were the country's leading consumer advocate and, unquestionably, were responsible for saving hundreds of thousands of lives. What the hell happened?

2) Do you ever pause and consider the stunning level of your jack-assery when you purported during your 2000 campaign for president that there was absolutely no difference between the Democrats and Republicans? Of course, all sentient adults know both parties are rife with corruption and venality, but in light of George W. Bush's eight year Reign of Mistakes, are you willing to cede that perhaps Al Gore possessed far greater intellect, empathy, and competence and might not have steered the country into a shit-laden ditch?

3) A number of your friends spoke publicly after the 2000 election that they supported you because you assured them your run was essentially symbolic and that you were shining a spotlight on pertinent issues that might otherwise get overlooked, but that if the polls indicated a dead heat between Gore and Bush, you would gracefully bow out. Of course, you did not, and the same friends claimed to be disillusioned by your festering demagoguery. Receive a lot of birthday cards anymore, sir?

4) Who has the bigger persecution complex: you or Sarah Palin? Have you considered battling for the title via a dart game or arm wrestling?

5) Still with the rumpled suit? Really?

6) Will you go away ever? What if we all chip in for candy or a nice pot roast?

Thank you and good night, Portland!

Returned last night from my three day and two night jaunt to Portland and I had an utterly delightful time. Madly in love with the Pearl District and imbibed 72 hours of wonderfulness. I've unpacked, returned pressing emails, and the adrenaline has worn off, however, so as goofy as it sounds to the uninitiated, I'm going back to sleep now. Will detail sundry adventures here and will post additional photos capturing the sublime and the slightly ridiculous on Facebook.

Much love, Portland! You can call me anytime.

[From top to bottom: foyer of The Benson Hotel, where I stayed thanks to a nifty recession-fueled discount via Expedia; posters for a super-cool bike-inspired show at a gallery on SW Stark; the legendary Powell's Books; U.S. National Bank building on 5th Ave and SW Stark; outdoors supply store on 3rd Ave near Voodoo Doughnuts.]

And now, a look back at Hot for Teacher Night (yes, that one):

The Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, I covered Hot for Teacher Night at a craptastic sports bar in Seattle's historic Pioneer Square district for sexual anthropologist, Susie Bright (Esquire, Rolling Stone, Salon), of whom I've long been an admirer.

Said night featured the infamous Mary Kay Letourneau and Vili Fualaau and its announcement received nationwide attention. Bright and I are Facebook friends and she asked if any of her Seattle compadres would be willing to attend and report for her blog; I tossed my hat in the ring and was one of two she chose.

I've attached the link (see below) to the version that ran on Bright's estimable site. Also, I've included my original, longer piece, which Bright herself suggested I post here. (When you read her intro, you'll see why elements of mine became superfluous.) While I observed the festivities, as it were, I experienced a twinge in my shoulder for the second day in a row. And when I wrote the following evening, I developed the most excruciating headache of my life. I thought perhaps it was akin to a migraine or maybe something worse. One could make a case I should have gone to the E.R. immediately, and if it had occurred during 2004 to 2007, when I had dozens of pieces come out in rapid fire, I would have. But due to the perniciously long recovery time from the pneumonia in '08, this was the first deadlined assignment I had taken on in over a year and I was so fucking furious that my health presented yet another obstacle, that I plowed through and handed it off to Bright a mere hour late. Of course, by the next day, a rash had developed along the pain's neural pathway and when I told my mom she said, "Honey, you've got shingles. Get to Dr. Harris' office immediately and I'll meet you there." And there went most of summer of '09. Hence, not posting this sooner: like most aspects of my life, it got lost in the shuffle of what transpired next.

Bright and I reached somewhat varying conclusions regarding Letourneau and Fualaau's relationship, but she was a joy to work with and is a perfectly delightful human being, to boot.

The version that ran on Bright's blog (the headline is not mine):

http://susiebright.blogs.com/susie_brights_journal_/2009/05/mary-kay-letourneau-fualaau-appeared-to-be-a-sweet-happy-gregarious-vision-of-beauty-with-an-aura-of-compassionate-mother.html

My original version:

A blonde woman in garnet red lipstick, a black strapless dress and gold flip-flops laughs and poses for pictures with a cadre of drunk college girls. She is toned and tan and appears younger than her 47 years as she waves to a man onstage in his 20s wearing a backwards cap and gold medallion who cues Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock and Roll” on his MacBook under the auspices of DJ-ing. A nearby reveler points at the woman and asks his friends, “Can you imagine if she had been a guy teacher? Alcatraz, baby! Al-ca-traz!” His female companion answers, “I know it sounds weird, but I always thought she was hot.”


“Really? Why are you headed there?” my cabdriver asked, perhaps sensing I’m not the sort to frequent Seattle’s cheesy downtown sports bars, Fuel.

“I’m going to Hot for Teacher Night, that thing with Mary Kay Letourneau and Vili Fualaau,” I replied, referencing the infamous convicted Level 2 sex offender and her onetime underage victim, now adult husband of the past four years. “I’m covering it, though. It’s not like I plan to make new friends tonight.”

“I don’t know,” he said contemplatively. “If you look at the fact they started over a decade ago, they’ve lasted longer than most marriages I can think of. They really seem to want to be together.”

For the rest of the ten-minute drive, I mulled over what he said. True, Letourneau met Fuluaau when she was his second grade teacher in 1990 and, according to court testimony, first sexually assaulted him in 1996 when he was 13 and she was 34 and married with four kids, after having been Fuluaau’s teacher again, this time for seventh grade. They began what they viewed as a relationship and even during her second subsequent prison stint, she was held in solitary confinement for six months after caught smuggling letters to him.

So, sure, in the aggregate, they had been “together” in some form for over a decade, no small feat. But most great love stories don’t involve one party’s family suing the school district and police department for failing to protect their son and for child support of the two children the couple in question now has.

We arrived at Fuel; I paid my fare and hopped out. A truly vile dance mix of Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida” blared from inside and engulfed the sidewalk, nearly drowning out the commotion gathering outside the entrance. A man in his 40s wearing a softball shirt and wire rim glasses yelled at three security guards while two local television stations filmed the exchange.

“She’s a child rapist!” the man shouted. “You’re making money off of sexual assault! If the genders were reversed, there’s no way you’d be hosting this thing!”

“She served her time, man! She served her time!” the security guards, all of whom were bald and clad in black leather vests, shouted back.

“You guys could have had One Dollar Beer Night instead! There are other ways to get a crowd!”

Two of the guards lumbered to their motorcycles parked on the street a few feet away and summarily revved them as loud as they could, obliterating the man’s words and ruining the stations’ footage. “We own the sidewalk in front of the club and I’m telling you right now you have to get off it,” the third guard said, the threat implied.

The man appeared sad and disgusted and moved a few yards away. The guards, none of whom seemed to realize the extent of their cliché-addled douchebaggery, finally ceased the revving and menacing and I asked the man if he would like to discuss the evening’s theme. He said his name was Joe and that in the course of his career as a police officer in California, he had worked with dozens of sexual assault victims of both genders. “This whole evening is an atrocity toward domestic violence and rape. They’re profiting off the pain of others.”

I thanked him for his time and got in line. When I arrived at the front, I saw a sign reading, “No media or press not approved earlier this week.” A guard asked for five bucks and my I.D. “I saw you talking to that guy. Are you a reporter?”

“No,” I fudged, neglecting to mention that, also, I thought he was an asshole.

“Then why were you talking to that guy? I saw you asking him stuff.”

“I felt like talking to him. That’s allowed, isn’t it?” I replied, my sarcasm thick as his skull. A second guard checked my bag and eyed my notebook suspiciously. I met his gaze and said, “I carry one sometimes. So?”

Stumped, or maybe deciding it wasn’t worth the hassle, they took my money and let me in. Prince’s “Let’s Go Crazy” blasted from the sound system and I edged towards the mostly empty dance floor and spotted Fualaau onstage with his MacBook, ostensibly serving tunes but mostly providing spectacle. Patrons sporting a stunning array of crunchy and outdated haircuts crowded the bar and U-shape of surrounding tables, viewing Fualaau from afar as if he were a zoo act. He didn’t look up and, surprisingly, appeared almost timid, as if he weren’t quite sure how to proceed.

Letourneau was nowhere to be found and I asked a table of college girls with a giant inflatable pink penis on their table what they thought of the evening so far. “We’re just here for my bachlorette party!” one of them replied, adjusting the strap on her pink shiny halter dress. “We thought it would be fun!” she added, a bit of slur to her words.

Momentarily, a thunderous cheer tore through the crowd, not quite the kind that met Barack Obama on the campaign trail but more than, say, Jimmy Fallon might expect to elicit. I turned and saw a woman with almost daffodil yellow hair and superb legs and it took me a second to realize this was the once-frumpy schoolteacher I’d seen in countless hours of news footage. She beamed as dozens of camera phones flashed like popcorn-ing rhinestones. “Mary Kay!” an older woman in walking sneakers and capri pants yelled. “Make sure and tell Vili I’m the one who sent the baby book!” Letourneau smiled and returned the hug when the woman embraced her enthusiastically.

The bachlorette throng rushed Letourneau as if she were a long lost friend and the woman who launched a thousand punch lines responded in kind. On and on it went, each customer seemingly more rapturous than the previous one. A Fuel employee sold autographed “Hot for Teacher!” tee shirts and posters at a nearby folding table and looked slightly queasy. “How much is the merchandise?” I asked.

“Seven dollars for a poster and twenty for a tee shirt. We’ve sold a lot so far.”

“How do you feel about them making money like this?”

“I’m dating the owner’s cousin. He asked me to help out tonight and I couldn’t tell him no.” She paused, as if concerned someone would hear our exchange. “I’m neutral about Letourneau, but you don’t say ‘no’ to family.”

After another half hour, I left, deadened at the notion that in this room, it was verboten to suggest a convicted pedophile might not be worthy of affection or accolades.

On the cab ride home, the driver asked me, “Hot for Teacher Night? What’d you go to that thing for?”

To borrow Monty Python's infamous line from The Holy Grail, "Not quite dead yet":

Earlier today ABC's "Good Morning America" ran an interview with Dr. Danica Moore, author of the new tome, Women's Heatlh for Life. The segment focused on CFIDS (Chronic Fatigue and Immune Dysfunction Syndrome), also known as CFS (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) and it is the one of the most medically accurate and insightful pieces I've encountered on the subject. Kudos to everyone involved:

http://abcnews.go.com/video/playerIndex?id=8664151

If you know me, love me, are working with me, plan to work with me, have dated me, are dating me, or some combination thereof and you have an extra 360 seconds, please watch the video (see above). It vividly describes what it is like to live with the illness I've had for 18 years, one that was initially and widely misunderstood (I had more than one doctor those first four months in the wheelchair tell me I was lying) but that has since been recognized as irrefutably real and the cause of severe and lasting physical impairment. (We should note, however, that while CFIDS suppresses one's immune system, one's rack and wit remain intact.)

On my way out the door now to fete my best friend, who this week marks the ten year anniversary of when he was mauled by a grizzly, but mercifully, made a full recovery and emerged even stronger and more bad-ass. We have been intertwined in each other's lives in all manner of ways for the past 21 years and while I have nearly killed him on more than one occasion, I am profoundly glad he is still here.