Listen, Mein Poppets, I don’t give a shit if your friends are the most SPARKLING, ERUDITE bastards on the planet — if you never had the profound pleasure, privilege, and delight of having a one-on-one conversation with the brilliant Taylor Negron…then trust me, YOU AIN’T NEVER HAD A CONVERSATION.
When it came to the RIVETING CHATTER, he would cock his head to one side, purse his lips, activate the tractor beam in his IMPOSSIBLY BLUE eyes, extend his hand, beguile you to him, face you down like an intellectual Apache dancer, snap his expert storytelling talons, reach around, clasp his past around your reptilian brain, and then, simply, ENCHANT YOU, LOVE YOU, and OWN YOU.
I was lucky enough in this life to have occasionally been his momentary dancing partner, spun giddy by his stories and wisdom, gazing amazed at the intoxicating, nurturing light he radiated outward always, and, for those unforgettable five minutes, ten minutes, an hour…be the only other person on the goddamned planet.
That he and his radiance are no longer here — making us laugh, raising the stakes, lighting our way — is UNIMAGINABLE.
Condolences, Muffy; remember that you are infused with Taylor’s spirit, your already soul filled sagas will be imbued with his presence. Rest In Peace, Taylor Negron, your legend will never die.