Charles Died Devastation at STellar Bar


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–Forwarded Message Attachment–
From: krashthrills@hotmail.com
To: kontraklasse@yahoo.com; ellamoonchachi@yahoo.com; Emily1Bail@aol.com; HiCathee2@aol.com; dk@maverickco.biz; bmacgregor@bluetorchinc.net; MANDJP@DSLEXTREME.COM; pcapollo@yahoo.com; jamesarthur64@hotmail.com; ratcityskateshop@yahoo.com; littleh_bomb@hotmail.com
Subject: Charles
Date: Thu, 11 Aug 2005 00:53:19 -0700

Date: Aug 9, 2005 12:29 AM
Subject: The Legend of Bo Di Kai——–I am Fucking Shattered
Body: Honestly in all my life experiences I have never been as distraught, emotionally wrecked, torn to pieces, sad, angry, and overall just a mess as I was and AM STILL over the stupid senseless killing of my friend and companion and kindred brother Charles McEldowney on the Second of August, 2005 in LA.
Some fucking jackass who obviously can’t handle their drug intake of ice tripped the fuck out of his head and had some delusion of Charlie doing something threatening somehow someway and actually killed my friend Charles.
I have suffered through many fucked up things in my wonderful life to date. None has affected me quite as much as this. I live in Australia now and I can’t fucking even go home to the funeral. It’s so fucked.
If you never met Charles your life is not as fulfilled as it should be let me just tell you that. He was a great personality and the most funny, generous, twisted and delightfully evil man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I know that I will never meet another like him.
If you only knew how many nights in the last twelve years that Charles and I have seen the sunrise together, talking shit, philosophizing, tinkering, drawing, partying, driving, planning, laughing, eating and just being brothers it would boggle the mind.
Fuck yah we were on drugs. Hooray for that. After Charles moved from OC to LA, I got a job at Ticketmaster in LA and was working down on Wilshire Blvd right there in Chinatown. And he lived there off of 8th Street and Grammercy. Literally 5 minutes walk from my work. I used to go over there at lunch and Charles would rescue me from the hellish hangover I would be enduring, with some hits of that dirty pretty ice pipe and we would have the best times. I don’t give a fuck if you think its lame. Drugs or any of it to tell you the truth. It was real and it was never the same and the adventures in LA with Chuck were legendary.
When I moved to downtown LBC with my Australian chick Ella, me and her used to go to Charles mobile house about three nights a week and pick up shit like maybe a half gram or something. It would always be like at 4 in the morning seriously and I would be covered in paint from whatever masterpiece I was working at the time and it was just so NOT THE SAME as the millions and billions of sheep living in California.
Charles sold drugs. Yah for Charles. I trusted him more than I have ever trusted anyone in my life. Implicitly. You know what that word means? Implicitly. Well I don’t know the exact dictionary meaning either but it’s a word that comes to mind when I think of Charles and trust. Like as in, it goes without saying. The dude had my back, any time any place. When I had money I gave him money. When I had none, he took none. It would not be an exagerration to say that Charles has actually given me my stash for the night AND GAS MONEY TO get back home AND A LITTLE MINI STASH for my chick and some sort of tool or gadget, a porno, and some food at least 100 times when I was living in Long Beach.
I would always be broke, being a degenerate gambler, yes its true. But Charles never gave a fuck about that. Literally didn’t give a fuck. Always made the time for me. Always. I tell you what. Straight up. The man meant more to me than almost anyone in this world. I love Charles. I thought he was the coolest person ever and he is my hero. Seriously my life will never be the same and the prospect of visiting California again isn’t even half as appetizing now that he is dead. I am that crushed.
I just found this shit out yesterday and I can’t stop welling up with tears about every 5 minutes. Is there anyone in your life that every time you see this person you feel this swell of affection in your heart and a smile just comes to your lips? Like you guys are so genuinely stoked to be in each others company whenever you get the chance in your busy lives? And once you start talking, all the other people in the room can’t even follow what you guys are talking about because they are just not on that wavelength. That is what we had man. Not in a gay way either for fucks sake. But in a non gay way Charles was a soulmate of mine and I really miss him so terribly much as I am typing this right now on a cold and rainy Melbourne Tuesday, the ninth of August, 2005. I miss you Charlie and I am fucking not very happy about any of this let me tell you.
As always with me and Charles he is paving the way. Charles was the stuff that legends are made of. Let the storytelling start now. I would say Rest in Peace but Charles liked staying up. Not resting. I do too. So all I can say is I love you brother and I miss you and not a cliche here: I will think about you every day for the rest of my life and thank you so much for every little thing you have ever done for me. You fucking rule. Bye Chuck

14 thoughts on “Charles Died Devastation at STellar Bar

  1. I don’t know if you will see this. I know you wrote this some time ago. Today I checked the mail and had a credit card application for Charles M. McEldowney so I don’t know thought it might be fraud or some shit. I googled his name, I’m a curious girl and found this…you see I heard a rumor that the person whom lived in my apartment before me had died. I read where you talked about where he lived and think I totally live in his old place. He sounds like he was a real cool dude. Sorry for your loss.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Well I live between 8th and 9th on Gramercy so I know the building must be right. Did he live on the first floor? In 103B?

        Like

          1. I know…now the whole world knows where I live and probably will crash my lair in search of tea and crumpets. Well that doesn’t sound so bad…this place became available when I had nowhere else to go. A neighbor came in once and cried as he told me about the guy who lived here, but as for details…well I was able to read them all in here. I’d like to think he’d be proud if what I’ve done with the place. It’s small, but it’s home.

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            1. I smoked a lot of meth on my lunch hour from Ticketmaster with Charles and his chick Mia. I would be all hangovered as shit barely able to survive until lunch then I would walk over to your house from Wilshire and Western and get high then go back to work. It was the best of times and the worst of times….

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              1. Wow…ticketmaster…it’s funny cause everyone I’ve ever met that works there, parties pretty hard. I actually had to google “dirty ice drug” when I read this earlier. I was pretty sure it meant meth…and I’ve partied pretty hard myself, but never knew nicknames for the stuff we did. Many people have crazy stories of things they did here when they were messed up after I moved in as well…this place will always to a mild degree, be a party shack, but it also became a sanctuary. I let my friend crash here when he was homeless…dug myself out of a wild spiral here and fell in love with art and creativity…prepared here for my many volunteer ventures throughout the community…hell my mom just visits here to hang and remember how to have fun….she loves this place and everyone who walks in always let’s out a “coooooolllll” before they sit down. This place is the shit and it’s neat that it has a rich history…good or bad…

                Like

                  1. Yeah I’ll totally read some more of your stuff. I totally know what you look like, cause after I read this, I searched you on facebook cause if you weren’t active here, I was gonna barrage you with questions there about the history of this place. I’m totally going to write about this interaction in my diary later. So I hope I’ve creeped out your day…lol.

                    Like

  2. I wrote this and posted it to my Myspace account the day after I heard that my friend Charles McEldowney had been shot and killed in Los Angeles, California. I was living in Melbourne, Australia and running Stellar Bar at the time. It's hard for me to even grasp that its actually been four years since Chuck died. That is crazy man.

    Like

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