Johnny McKay died a couple of weeks ago. He was 32. I didn’t know him that well, but we had some mutual friends, and Xy & I crashed on a futon at his house on the west side of Bloomington, once upon a time.
We just went to his memorial service. It was pretty cool. There was a reading from the Tao Te Ching, and they played some recordings by Skeeter, a band he and his wife Abby were in together.
Afterwards, a bunch of attendees drifted over to a nearby amphitheater and burned a couple joints in Johnny’s memory. I’m sure he would have approved.
I didn’t partake, myself. But it was one of those memorable Bloomington moments.