Cornelius Nash

Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Cornelius Nash
NASH--Cornelius C. Neil Nash, 48, died on September 9th after years of a heroic battle with brain cancer, Neil's legacy is one of kindness and inspiration in the face of his baffle. For the past 16 years Neil has fought and triumphed over numerous run-ins with the disease, constantly turning the medical community on its head while keeping his own- Neil was a real New Yorker and lived in Manhattan most of his life. He loved the city and was often the very embodiment of its struggles and triumphs. As a close friend states; "A big part New York City's beauty is that it often feels so fragile and so grand at the same time. Neil Nash was the same; he was always grand and epic even during the hardest times." For the last 10 years he was an acclaimed project manager who oversaw a wide array of projects in New York and throughout the US. Neil helped manage several large institutional restoration projects after hurricane Katrina, as well as built high-end residential projects throughout New York City, and a prominent soup kitchen and social services agency in Brooklyn. A statement from close friends reads; "No matter what Neil was going through personally he always maintained an optimism and willingness to help others, laugh out loud, and be the most stylish guy in the room. His sense of humor, rigorous honesty, and openness always made Neil a magnet for great conversations and connection with everyone he encountered." Cornelius is mourned by his wife Martha Brophy, his children Jedidiah and Campbell, his sister Juliana Nash Stenerson, his mother, Juliana vanderVloed Nash, and a huge family and circle of friends too numerous to mention.

chance of. . .showers

i slept on the beach at my usual lay up spot behind a large log and ball with a small sand bowl- only to be awakened by wet and the sound of a hugely high tide crashing and a failed tent, rainwater boiling into my 1970's windbreaker A-frame woodland tent-
so i crawl out of bed soaked all my gear drenched /look up and see the waves maybe four feet from my face- shit- i run, in the deluge, away- scratch on uncle A's van door and crawl in soggy and cold to sleep in the passenger seat with a wet down jacket for warmth-
at five i wake and watch as the clouds battle the sky and sun in an epic turf war- as i hike to dry my cloths, find a cup of coffee and try to generate some warmth

but look at this sky / broiling/ churning

such a wonder- to witness alone wet alive and awake

big swells have already come dragging away the sand and delivering logger remainders/ choker ?

the next night sleeping in my sun dried gear and tent again- i was awoken by the stars- pulling my hair -i crawled out of bed and stood staring at the swirling fuzzy stars and felt like i would die here, not tonight/but someday and that the stars were telling me that they knew and would wait for me- and tonight they'd suck some sloppy taste of my soul- as i stood in the sand with cold bare feet and salty eyelids-but not from crying

Dukes or someone was sleeping in that pile of crushed flaccid tent

i had a nice romantic walk with myself

this is how the kids leave a camp site- shitty-filthy fucked up and sawdusted

i think god came out of the sky and told me- i'm going to get you

bum still life with BBQ and water jug/keg cups and fuck

Arlington has been trying to get to the beach with us for years and this passed weekend we rolled out together in his '87 Vanagon- living the life- this man is a really good camper- lives large with fresh veggies, wraps and fruit-fresh coffee and tea- all geared up from years of living off the land in the mountains-feral
a vegetarian epicurean

Toby's first word

when the sun breached the sky the clouds popped with white boarders - this is the time i'm usually in the sea- so i can see the light smack the wave tops and i can paddle around alone and talk to whales, smelt and peeliecans

the birds are all sick and dying- there is an awesome menacing algae bloom off shore- everything is dead-

in the back ground you can see some huge tarp town some nutters have built, and built very well to have survived the previous nights gale force rain blast

the brown foamy wave and high tide line

this is where i'd drink tea with the Buddha if he existed and hung out at dirty south

some battlements constructed by tweakers to fight the leg growing whales and their merman aquanauts

i had wanted to start a surf magazine with no photographs of surfers- just waves and clouds and the life- called SAD !

beaver fever- old tire bridge- do you know how many drunk girls and guys i've watched fall into this shitty orange water

still life with BBQ and two fister- who brings a BBQ to the beach ? a beach where you can have open wild fires

i hope i don't get croaker* before i fly away to surf NY/NJ and family

how high the tide reaches and wave plums

*croaker is a type of fish on the east coast and the sickness i get after surfing there

Random life & still life

when bums create art - this is the type of still life they build/ this piece is like a Cezanne to tweakers
i like this penguino- did he poop the ice cube ? his expression and wing pointing seems to indicate some kind of guilt

Who is this guy and why can't i stop thinking about him- ?

the lovely miss Henry- flying into my heart since. . . 1976 ? Baby Forest walks around carrying this photo and kissing it-

turntable- with stackable .45 dildo

missing tubes- dusty with the neatest flat tweeters

my new free stereo- from the 1960's- very busy/nice logo

nutty wall built around this new bar's patio, click on the image to see that it is built out of old street signs- so cool- they should be magazines nobody reads or looks at-

free piles are my favorite places to shop- where i get all my cloths, furniture, and books, reading list and x-mas gifts- if you look at this picture close you can actually see the two old people sitting there- to exhume ghosts remove furniture- directions-

little cute house with amazing lawn full of trees this is the side, the front lawn has three just like this- isn't it wonderful

my last free woodblock print card- i bombed an art gallery with- that's my thumb

While trying to shoot this episode some ass of a white boy said- the city of Seattle doesn't allow, flyer's to be stuck to trees-

Mee Mee told him to relax and go inside- and we all laughed at him- he was right-

flattened shoes

play field-looks fake

Baby Forest trying to show/explain something to me- and we had to hike clear across the soccer field to do so- isn't he cute though

me putting on a free/gift show on the street

my new free pile stereo

Neil Nash yeah

if you all don't read Oh, snap ! the blog from NYC you should, but if you don't- you should read today's article anyway-

Jocelyn knew Neil a lot better than I did, I'm sure- i don't know anything about anyone- really-

and i can't find any older photos of my cousin, and she has posted a few great ones, damn that guy was good looking- do you know how hard it was having to hang out with Neil and Hugh, jesus i felt like a turd

with these two hunky supermodels draggin' me threw the sewers of the east village- fighting everyone- talking for days and the two of them riding their bikes like a Kerouac novel, a Ginsburg poem-beautiful

when Neil told you things, anything he would really mean it- with his hands twisted his face all screwy- you had to listen- but you didn't want to be out with these nuts after 2 am

i'd be home hiding in bed the phone covered with pillows- terrified

anyway read her story- it's very sweet

and i'll see you all in the new york

my cousin Neil

borrowed from Oh, snap- and Jocelyn M

thnx Jocelyn M- thnx-

Neil Nash stories are so intertwined with NYC it's hard to see clearly from so far away- in the west- where it's safe and quiet-

but when i was a new wave kid laying in my bed listening to the radio in ninth grade- Neil Nash would ride up state to visit Aunt Joe and uncle Neil - sleep in my room -on the pull out bed and tell me the most amazing stories of growing up in the city, all the bands i wish i could have seen- with him-the films- the adventures the lure, his attractiveness in strength, personality and looks- to a fourteen year old dork- were overwhelming-

we'd lay awake talking- and he'd tell me about this crazy film called Endless Summer- which he had seen as a kid- and how he'd wanted to be a beach bum- his parents had a junky old house in Amaganset, Long Island- where we all got kicked out of -the whole family was spending years fixing the place up- the rooms were filled with clam shells and wine bottles-

i think Neil said his old surf board is still there-

i have an inch long scar on my left eye lid from when he smashed Hugh's head into mine and of course mine had blown up in bloody fountains- whenever i look in the mirror, i can see and feel that moment and i smile-

then i remember the phone calls from Miami- from a street corner- from a bar- how Hugh and he needed back up- you have to get down here- they'd hijacked a van full of Mods and were driving to . . . who knows where-

playing pool at the Acorn pub with Tommy and Neil throwing down hundred dollar bills- deep into the night

the crazy Frenchy chasing us in a rental car with a knife just like the night before the cab driver had done while we stole a dingy and tried to stow-away on an ocean liner-

leading a filthy muddy grubbing gang of kids- eight of us lost in the woods-through the swamps to the highway to hitchhike home-but who would have picked this mob up- in Carmel,NY

sitting on the tailgate of a black truck with Stella, in front of the Ear Inn on wonderfully short September nights- driving my truck down 5 th ave- on the sidewalk for ten blocks- laughing-

watching Hugh just about die in the ocean with boulders and swell against the tide/ high dives

all the ska shows and Urban Blight shows and all the fights and parties- and our two apartments side by side on the sixth floor of the Mildred on 5th st

blowing the forest to pieces with shotguns and Eddy D -five maniacs in an ice covered world trying to kill squirrels to eat their hearts

calling me up to tell me about books and films and dreaming of having a Tattooed bikini put upon himself in hyper realism

i'm glad he told me all those stories about surfing- and i'm glad two years ago i took him out on dawn patrol with me

while i surfed we talked and he floated next to me- just his head rising and falling with the swell and the sun rising in front of us, there were waves so i got to really surf - but it wasn't like we were kids, though i was trying really hard anyway to show him that i could surf- and i did- and he floated next to me and really smiled

all the things i had heard of him and the things i had witnessed- his legend and life - all the things i can't remember - the regular moments of his life i never saw ended this morning at four am

Neil Nash died this morning- with the Buddhists and his wife- the kids playing

and me -so far away- so sorry-

i made it

hey look i made it onto someone's treasury over at Etsy !

i know all you non-Etsy people are rolling your eyes- but i'm excited

that house

welcome to the house- says the floating dolly head-

donkey show

whack eyed brunette- from a Spillane novel- kiss me deadly ?

fucking Chucky- always spooking me

his girlfriend has a broken neck and natty dreads

no redemption song for this dead hag

dead baby jokes were huge when i was a kid-

no birds- perhaps in the freezer ?

puppets are always scary

a sad consumptive relation

clowns are always creepier than puppets- but i really love the washed out/faded look

still life with crackers

that fucking house

covered drive ways were huge in the fifties- car ports

look in the window you super creeper

my gang of old home owners bought me some gorgeous pie pans- this one looks like the earth from outer space- or some tripped out acid heads dream of perfect pants

gutter punk barbie says- bye bye now- thnx for the head

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