I feel as if I just lost a dear friend.
It's strange to think about the loss of someone you really only knew through their creativity. I never sat down with Chuck Jones, shared a drink, or talked about the world.
He made me laugh. Me inspired me, his work is a friend. That, thankfully, can never change.
But I suppose there are only so many bubbles that can pass through our lives...
Just because you do not know someone closely, it doesn't mean that you don't feel the loss. It doesn't mean that there isn't a feeling that something that touched you in even the smallest of ways is somehow different, like a flower cut at the stalk to put in a vase.
In todays world of comic-cons and fanboy infestation, you wonder if a compliment given has the same weight that it might when sent in a letter you never even knew if the person received or not. Not that compliments given at a pre-set autograph table are given with any less conviction, but that the setting finds a way to make them seem less individually special...
I wonder that because sometimes the internet seems like the biggest pre-fab fanboy convention ever assembled...
But I feel like I need to say it. I need to honor you in my own way. Perhaps as much for personal benefit as for a show of respect.
Chuck.. in September of 1942, 30 years before I was born, you made a film called "The Dover Boys." Every time I see it, the thing makes me laugh so hard there are tears in my eyes by the time it's over.
...And don't even get me started on Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.
It's strange to think about the loss of someone you really only knew through their creativity. I never sat down with Chuck Jones, shared a drink, or talked about the world.
He made me laugh. Me inspired me, his work is a friend. That, thankfully, can never change.
But I suppose there are only so many bubbles that can pass through our lives...
Just because you do not know someone closely, it doesn't mean that you don't feel the loss. It doesn't mean that there isn't a feeling that something that touched you in even the smallest of ways is somehow different, like a flower cut at the stalk to put in a vase.
In todays world of comic-cons and fanboy infestation, you wonder if a compliment given has the same weight that it might when sent in a letter you never even knew if the person received or not. Not that compliments given at a pre-set autograph table are given with any less conviction, but that the setting finds a way to make them seem less individually special...
I wonder that because sometimes the internet seems like the biggest pre-fab fanboy convention ever assembled...
But I feel like I need to say it. I need to honor you in my own way. Perhaps as much for personal benefit as for a show of respect.
Chuck.. in September of 1942, 30 years before I was born, you made a film called "The Dover Boys." Every time I see it, the thing makes me laugh so hard there are tears in my eyes by the time it's over.
...And don't even get me started on Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.