Elliott Smith is dead.

Therapy is nothing to be ashamed of; more people should be willing to attempt it. Unfortunately, it still carries a stigma that scares people out of getting help. For instance, one of the better things I'm decent at is helping mates (even the odd stranger) by giving them a listening ear.

Sometimes, all you will want is to be heard. Who knows whether Smith had that?

(1) if Smith's surrounding circumstances had been different -- he had someone to talk to, he didn't feel stigmatized for depression, he took medicine, he was in therapy, he had healthcare, people had different attitudes about artists -- then he might be alive today; or

(2) he was so miserable, was in such a terrible amount of emotional pain, and was so bent on killing himself (he tried before, right?) that there was no way to stop him.

I don't know Elliot Smith so I will never know which is true.

Oh fuck off with this Nick Drake BULLSHIT

Somewhere back, someone (possibly Kenan) called ES's manner of suicide "punk rock" — that being because it was believed then that he stabbed himself in his stomach. So what is it then, now that it seems that he stabbed himself in his heart? MOR orchestral ballad-esque?

So you're not one of the "sensitive people," I take it?

He's still alive and posting on ILM, isn't he?

You were supposed to save pop music. Remember that LA Weekly cover? Your face on the front, looking scared and beautiful, and I am sorry, so so so very sorry that you are gone. What happened? I guess it doesn't matter now and nothing does really. I just feel sorry and bad that we couldn't do anything to help. That all the people that loved you really didn't make much of a difference. That our love wasn't enough, or didn't reach you, or put you off, that you were unhappy anyway. But maybe your unhappiness was what we loved about you, so that our love was a constant reminder of how much unhappiness you had. I understand. We were selfish then, and for that I am angry for you. Mad for you. Sad for you. Loving you from here on the earth where things aren't so great, not at all, but fuck you made things a lot better and now that you are not here we just all have to act like life goes on and there goes another rock star and its better to burn out instead of fade away and whatever the fuck - whatever the fuck. All I can say is that I am crying as I write this, as I listen to your secretly sorry voice on Either/Or and I am wondering if you are hovering in the air above your house, watching the grief stricken fans and old friends walking wounded trying to understand where you went, why you went. If they can reach you now, with their thoughts, their hearts, their love. Can you see them? Does it make anything better? A whole shitload of hipsters are crying right now, hiding behind their ironic 70s sunglasses and vintage western snap front shirts. Legions of girls with scars from cutting themselves and dyed black hair are lighting candles and contemplating joining you today. Thirtysomething dudes with dirty shag haircuts are shaking their heads, looking down at their big jokey belt buckles, thinking about having a beer before the sun goes down, because it isn't a good day for any of us, because you aren't here to represent.

One time I was in Portland on tour, an early morning before I was about to leave for home and I walked into a bagel shop. You were there, not in person, but your record was playing. The sleepy, baby cute hippie kid behind the counter was singing along to you, quiet just like you, and he knew every word. There was another raggedy girl cleaning up tables behind me, and she was singing too. Then this other kid came into the shop, and waited in line, and he was singing - as if on cue, a little off key, but almost in harmony. Pretty soon, so was I. But we were all in our own private worlds, our voices barely audible, singing only for ourselves. Were you singing for yourself? I hope so. I hope that you could love your music like it was loved by everyone else.

Goodbye gentle soul. Goodnight. How sorry I am to see you go. But you were maybe too beautiful for this world. So beautiful that it hurt to be in it. I hope that you are not hurting anymore. I hope everything is good wherever you are. I hope that you are happy. Everything reminds me of you.

Most addicts also suffer from other chemical imbalances that usually manifest as depression, often in its bi-polar form. Not having known the guy, and only going by interviews, I’d guess bi-polar.

Which means he’d have needed a mood stabilizer—depakote, lithium or something similar.

If depakote, he could suffer a serious relapse just by missing a day’s dose. If lithium, he’d have to have his blood serum levels checked every three or so weeks, with dosage possibly re-adjusted.

On top of that, he’d need an anti-depressant, SSRI or some sort of atypical. In either case, the side-effect profile has a tendency to morph, causing further dosage readjustments and possibly the addition of another medication. All of which need to be taken at specific times of the day for maximum effect, while it’s essential that a psychopharmacologist is visited on a weekly basis to keep all the aforementioned in line.

Obviously, getting better is a pretty demanding enterprise. Often, those in ones’ social circle are invested, if only by sadly fucked up default, in the person remaining ill. Whether Dreamland did anything healthcare wise for him is something about which I won’t conjecture. Okay, I will. He was a guy who made whatever money he made from being a wreck.

A really awful possible ‘upside’: he may have felt a terrible relief upon wounding himself, as anything is preferable to the depressive downswing a bi-polar suffers.

I’m amazed he lasted this long.

Even if he was unipolar, his suffering was probably pretty profound. d'oh

re: treating bipolar

Which means he’d have needed a mood stabilizer—depakote, lithium or something similar.

If depakote, he could suffer a serious relapse just by missing a day’s dose. If lithium, he’d have to have his blood serum levels checked every three or so weeks, with dosage possibly re-adjusted.

These are both pretty old school MS. Yes they are still prescribed but are now last resort. Most bipolars these days are on more modern medicines with less side-effects and less maintnence.

On top of that, he’d need an anti-depressant, SSRI or some sort of atypical.

sometimes. . .not all bipolars need an AD. not all are as depressive and ADs can actually make you manic so are often ill-advised for bipolars.

another medication. All of which need to be taken at specific times of the day for maximum effect, while it’s essential that a psychopharmacologist is visited on a weekly basis to keep all the aforementioned in line.

This really isn't true. The only reason specific times would be neccesary would to be control side effects like sleepiness. The only drug that requires such strict maintainence is, like you said, Lithium. Even then I think serum levels are only required about once a month. For all other meds the average doctor visit cycle is every three months.

Like I said, I've never seen any evidence that he was bipolar. Even if he was all this discussion would be kind of irrevelant since it does seem that he was resistant to this kind of treatment. And then there's the addiction which is a completely different issue.

i'm tired. need to go to bed.

She was being funny! She's a friggin' comedian, for cryin' out loud.

And I thought M. Cho was mocking these people who are expressing their feelings honestly. What Francis said, except I don't think it's too funny.

(and for what it's worth I don't believe he wanted to.)

sam: 1. i don't understand your first sentence. if people could find relief they would need to kill themselves? don't you mean the opposite that they wouldn't need to kill themselves?
2. why do you think that he didn't want to kill himself? he tried to kill himself several times. do you think it was an accident? or do you think that he was crazy or something? doing things he didn't want to do?

Gotcha.

Your post above seems to want to reduce the suicidal mindset to a rather simpler thing than it actually is. The "bullshit pills" reference a few posts up seems misguided at best: lots of people who don't take antidepressants wrongly think of them as "happy pills." What they do is address the biochemical issues that are thought by many to have at least partial responsibility for chronic depression that hasn't responded to therapy. E.S. had suffered from both depression and addiction for ages. Neither condition is a simple thing: it's not like E.S. woke up one fine Portland day and said "Fuck it! I'm gonna be a depressed guy, 'cause that's how I like it!" Treatment for this condition isn't "bullshit," nor is refusing to get treated "keeping it real" by any stretch of the imagination.

To use a related example. When I was a psych nurse I had a bunch of patients who were dispomaniacs i.e. who couldn't stop drinking water. You find this thing a lot with chronic schizophrenics, which is what most of my patients were. One guy we had was so far gone that if you let him shower alone, he'd just stand underneath the shower head and drink everything that came out. EVERYTHING. Which will kill you pretty quick, as your electrolyte balance'll get all thrown outta whack and then your blood pressure gets so low that it makes your heart work too heart and kablooey. So, under doctor's orders, we nurses did everything we could to stop him, including restricting his water intake and monitoring his intake & output of all fluids.

From the sounds of it, you'd say we were "restricting his freedom" or something. But he didn't wanna die! Something was wrong with his brain! And depression, despite the way western countries romanticize the hell out of it, isn't some deeper metaphysical understanding of the universe. It's a malfunction of the organism. Sometimes a little of it can be healthy: adversity breeds character! When it makes you wanna kill yourself, then it's time to call it what it is: an ILLNESS. And treat it, regardless of whether or not "alternative" types might sneer as how "false" one is being by choosing happiness over despair.

in the sense that depression doesn't do any good to your organism this is certainly true. but somehow i don't buy this reduction of a psychic problem which a depression obviously is to purely physical causes. those antidepressants seem to me like a treatment of the organic symptoms and not the real causes which are psychic. i am no expert on this and i am certainly depressive too at times but i would get very angry if someone forced me to take pills or whatever to cure my so-called depression.

what i don't like about this discussion is that suicide per se seems to be interpreted as the final effect of an illness. and that's certainly not correct. nobody has chosen to live in this world. so everybody is free to take his life. of course there might be cases of people who would kill themselves without wanting it and need help like the water drinker you mentioned but that certainly must be pretty rare.

"Depressive at times" - as I say, this can be quite healthy! For people who suffer CHRONIC depression, though, it's a whole different ballgame. Their ability to act in their own interest suffers. I mean, look: if you bought a car, and the car's CPU caused it to drive into a wall every time its tank was a little low, you'd get it fixed, right? I think you have a romantic idea about how psychotropic medications work & about what they do. NB I'm not saying they're not overprescribed - they are - but overprescription doesn't equal "they are horrible," and they certainly don't "change" people's personalities.

X with John, who, once again, I agree with.

as for him not wanting to. . .it's just my gut feeling here. Attempts don't always mean you want to die just that you don't see other options. Sometimes these attempts reveal other options you were missing all along.

I don't want to speculate on or discuss this individual anymore. It's too heartbreaking for me.

Actually, this is precisely what I suspected - the accounts of recent performances suggested an increasing loosening of associations, etc.

Grieving does nothing for the dead. We grieve for ourselves, for what we can no longer have. Elliott Smith got exactly what he wanted, and we can give and take nothing else from the man. Because it provided a sense of approval and connection, Smith's old concerts can now be remembered as sacred events. But what a failure of the imagination: all moments are equally rare, whether someone is playing a guitar or not, whether Smith is alive or dead. Those on the message boards who are grateful they saw him perform live are fully vested in the lie that somehow the story, the man, and the experience of the music are all bound together, that the aggregate pleasure of thousands can be summed up into one living soul, one ex-addict with a beating heart, and now his entirely solitary act—seppuku without the second—can be seen as some kind of communion, a concluding act to his oeuvre of bitter depression. A pair of round cracked eyeglasses on an album cover, and a ticket stub from 1998. A bit of cloth dipped in his blood, a fragment of the true cross. It's all about
taking
the easy way out
for you,
I suppose.