I Really Didn't Like This November...

“I’ve got some really bad news...”

My closest friend of the last 30 years ended his own life, on November 20, 2023. There’s no words. No rationalizing. No take-backs. Just a broken family left behind and bunch of friends feeling incomplete. 

I’m going to try to be positive, which is never easy for me, but here’s some of the stuff that went through my mind as I’ve been trying to make sense of a senseless tragedy. Writing is the only way I know how to deal with heavy emotional things, so it makes the most sense for me to try and figure it out here.

Memorialized in that great unwritten Bort song: "Perkins Whore Tweaked my Hat", I met Travis Klersy (and his future wife Jen) as one half of a quartet that went somewhere, on some night in December 1994. The Round Lake Taco Bell? Possibly. I don't remember. Only that Trav worked there at the time. The link between the two of them and myself was that I had asked the waitress out, at the Perkins where we had our final 201 Proof Television production meeting. Her idea was to hang out with some friends, that upcoming Friday night. Cool.

Less than an hour into this night, the three of us decided that we were all far more interesting than the waitress I asked out, and that they were existing friends with. By the time we ended up at her house, the three of us were hanging out, talking and having a great time without her. Not long after that, we were all unsure where our waitress had went. She didn't bring me any coffee. 

She still owes me $17.00 too.

Not including interest.

From that night, Jen and Trav and I became great friends. Quickly, the three of us were hanging without the waitress along at all. We had common interests in music, television and pop culture. A new routine became going out somewhere to do something, then back to my parent's basement. This was nearly every weekend night that I wasn't working at 99 Spillihp. 

Most often, those nights included a stop at the old Columbia Heights Cheapo (which is an Auto Zone today). Lasting anywhere from 15 to 90 minutes, depending on how much time we were killing. If I remember right, I think they were open until at least 11pm, 365 days a week back in 1995. Making it a great place to go, after catching a movie at Northtown, Village 4, East Bethel, or even...

Apache Plaza!

We were 3 of the 7 total people who watched Kevin Smith's Mallrats in the theater! 

March, 1995

Trav was a huge supporter of Wasted Quarter (ignore the warning, just wash my mouth out with soap later) from the start. Always offering up a good critique of new issues, in addition to being a great source of new ideas and tweaking my ideas to make a better story. I'm glad I took this picture of him, posing in front of the "Wasted Wall" of Basement World. From just above the couch, stretching from door to the far wall. With an old flag from 99 Spillihp on the wall. That very same flag is on the wall of my office. Next to me as I write this today.

He named this blog.

Sometimes I'd get a random tip that would lead to a really great story. Last summer, out of the blue: "Hey dood, they're tearing down Moon Plaza. It's already about half gone..."

When I told him about Laura and I driving up to Fargo, on a mission specifically to gather photos for a series of stories I want to write about Highway 10, he was very excited about the project. I told him I planned an ongoing series with a dedicated post about each of the towns along the way. I just needed a base to start with. He though it was a great idea and said he'd love to read them.

He was gone two days after I posted the "introduction" piece. 

April, 1995

Trav was my designated volunteer model/photographer, while shooting pictures for the Replacement Baseball story in Wasted Quarter 16. We shot up a roll of film with posed solo baseball action photos, at Sand Creek Park, in Crapids. Then drove up to the WalMart on Round Lake Blvd., to take advantage of the one hour photo. I wanted to be making Xerox copies before my 99 Spillihp graveyard shift tonight.

Walking into the WalMart, we ran into KAC of all people. Who told me that the lighter she used to smoke 47 bowls was 973 times hotter than Matt. (Trav would have loved that joke...) After this impromptu meeting of stupid, he expressed annoyance that she didn't acknowledge his presence at all, while talking at me. Pretty much... We dropped my Sand Creek Baseball film off at the photo counter, then had about an hour to kill. Luckily this was still back in the day that WalMart had a Ms. Pac Man machine in the entryway.

As long as that Ms. Pac Man machine was there, we visited this WalMart often, on Friday nights. Probably after the Columbia Heights Cheapo. Since WalMarts was open 24-7 in 1995.

So of course they removed that Ms. Pac Man machine in late 1995.

Inevitably, we'd all end up back in my parent's basement, watching VHS tapes of Beavis and Butthead, or whatever else of interest I'd recorded that week.

As time went on, Trav would come up to 99 Spillihip and hang out amongst the chaos that was usually going on during my shift. Around that same time, I was going through some major "I've gotta get out of here!" feelings about my life and Crapids and being 21 and completely directionless. I'd dropped out of Community College (after like 3 days) and I had to figure out something that wasn't gas station, if I was going to anything not-embarrassing with my life. 

Trav became my closest friend by this time. Talking about leaving Minnesota and starting somewhere completely new was a popular topic with me. Trav provided a great deal of encouragement for me to do it when the opportunity came.

I was so grateful to Trav for his level headed talks about life during this time, that I gave him my prized job on the overnight shift, at 99 Spillihp, before I left. He carried on the proud tradition on graveyard shift, gas station employee. But his chosen method of apathy was in a different direction than mine. While I didn't care much beyond the requirements, and wanted to do my own thing. His approach was more, I will only do X, until you pay me to do more. Basically refusing to perform above the standard minimums the company seemed to allow. 

"You're paying me just enough to not steal and stay awake during my shift."

I respect that.

Years later, he submitted this colorful sketch of the 99 Spillihp days, to Wasted Quarter. Drawn during art class at home school.

June 1997

I'd flown back to Minnesota for a week, coinciding with a break at Overpriced Art School. Jen and Trav moved with Crazy Carl, into his new house in luxurious East Coon Rapids. The basement was still unfinished in June 1997. They would only stay there until November, before a very poorly layed out apartment on Coon Rapids Blvd., preceding a 2 year stay in Winona, where Jen was attending college.

Nothing notable happened. It was just cool to see my friends again.

December 1997

Jen and Trav flew out to Colorado, to visit for a few days. We visited local record and book stores, hung out at Kenyon, printed WQ33, and I took this picture of them at Red Rocks Amphitheater, in Morrison, Colorado.

Any visit to Red Rocks should be magical, weather you're seeing a concert or not. Unfortunately for me, the magic of Red Rocks made my car keys disappear. After visiting the men's room, in the basement of the gift shop, I couldn't find my keys. And we couldn't leave without them. Doubling back to the men's room revealed a cruel fate. The stall I had just occupied saw the Reece's Nutrageous candy bar that had been in my jacket pocket, with my car keys. Only there were no car keys. Just the still wrapped candy bar. Intact as when I bought it at 7-11 on our way up here.

The ridiculously intense jet propulsion mechanism under the hood of the Red Rocks gift shop basement men's room toilet, sucked my car keys right on down the hole. Which had unknowingly fallen out on my pocket and in the bowl, as I stood up. The Reece's Nutrageous candy bar was too wide, and didn't go along with my keys and waste...

Luckily my always unemployed ex-brother-in-law was on the couch in Lakewood, and was able to buzz out to Kenyon to pick up my spare car keys, then up to Red Rocks, in just under two hours. 

Red Rocks wasn't as magical after that.

No, I didn't fish the Nutrageous out either. 

I'm sure someone did...

July 1998

I'd scheduled my vacation to come back to Minnesota to serve as Trav's Best Man, in his wedding to Jen. It was his request that I do it wearing my Ottawa Senators Alexei Yashin jersey. (Surprised it fit, given the beer and pizza diet I was on in my early 20's...) After the ceremony and all that, we drove with Meister, up to his uncle's cabin for a couple days.

Strike a sexy pose!

Since you're gone before me, I get to humiliate you!

In the late 1990's, I was attending Overpriced Art School and paying my bills by giving rides to pizza. Spending a large chunk of time in a car with only a cassette deck, Trav started sending me audio tapes he'd made from stand-up comedy CD's he'd started picking up.

My  favorites became the first four albums to see release from Hick's catalog; Dangerous, Relentless, Arizona Bay and Rant in E-Minor. Those cassettes directly contributed to maintaining my positive and cheery disposition towards all of the cuntstomers, while driving around rush hour traffic. Which played absolutely no role in a growing hatred for the general public, at all...

January 2001

Even with my life centered in Englewood, Colorado, and theirs in Winona, Minnesota. Spending time with them was a key part of every vacation. And since it was a vacation, I wasn't trapped in Winona. While I understood how uncomfortable living there had to be for that two year, I loved seeing it. But I could appreciate its quirks, knowing that I can leave.

It's not everywhere you can get a bacon cheeseburger with only lettuce on it.

You go to Winona because you NEED a compact disk with Hulk Hogan rapping.

The start of a PPF Friday night tradition...

"Always go swimming with a buddy... Work real hard and always study!"

Genius!

May 2001

Then just a few months later, they made the trek to Englewood, Colorado, for the 2001 Wasted Enterprises company picnic. All other instances were only attended by General Hafaaz Supacat. This year we fired up the Kenyon Place BBQ grills! Other designated Wasted Enterprises Company Picnic activities included video games and dumb TV, record and thrift store shopping in Denver and Littleton, as well as sammiches from SubCenter. 

Semi-Rigid Nard Holder

Once I started recording Dr. Demento off KBCO in Boulder, Colorado, I was making compilation tapes as I did in Junior High School. Before long, I was sending copied cassettes back to Trav. Just as Mr. Rux shared Dr. Demento with me in 1986, I shared his show with Trav in 1997. I was happy to provide hours of music of all years and varieties. Funny to strange, never boring. Stuff you'd never heard before, and unless you captured it on cassette, would likely never hear again.

Which in itself is kind of sad. 

Trav loved this song.

Under the guise of comedy, there's some important philosophy here.

The Dead Milkmen banner that Jen and Trav gave me before I moved to Colorado in 1996. Ithaca been displayed prominently in every place I’ve lived since then. The hall closet door of Kenyon, the basement wall of Cheryl’s house in Littleton, the side of the dining room shelf at Greenwood and above the shelf in my office in Crapids. 

While we never got to see The Dead Milkmen in concert, I did get to attend a few shows with Trav over the years, and those memories still stand out today.

Including the very disappointing first night of Mr. Bungle’s Disco Volante tour. Marred by technical problems, the set was cut short, and even the band has expressed disappointment with how the show went down. Long periods of silence between pieces of The Bends. We didn't even get the Loverboy cover that Madison, Wisconsin got... At least we all got a good laugh out of the attending Bungle fan, wrapped entirely in duct tape.

Or less than a year later, watching The Cure perform their greatest hits, mixed in with their absolutely terrible new album. I’m sorry, Wild Mood Swings was the WORST music that band ever committed to recorded medium. Although I did get to see “Like Cockatoos”. While that didn’t make up for seemingly 3 and a half hours of “Pictures Of You”, we both agreed that maybe The Cure can probably be skipped next time coming through town. Music that once meant so much, really let us down...

October 20, 1996.

When we bought tickets to see Ween’s 12 Golden Country Greats tour, I had no idea that I’d be moving to Colorado by the time the show took place. In fact, I had to delay my departure so I could still see Ween before leaving. Jen, Trav and I went to First Ave for this show (audio of nearly the full show is on YouTube), then hit the long since gone, Northtown Ember’s restaurant, for our last hanging out before I left. After returning home, I finished loading up my car, took a nap and left for Colorado, just before the sun rose the next morning.

This was an excellent end to Minnesota, and start to my new life in Colorado.

Eight years later, I was back in Minnesota. America was in an unjust war, and Camper Van Beethoven had just put out an album in reaction to said war. New Roman Times clicked instantly with me, and Trav and I made sure to see them when they came through Minneapolis. After the show, the band hung out at the merch table and we got to talk to them, and have them sign our CD’s and tickets and whatever. Trav derived great joy in watching me accidentally insult the bass player, with an anecdote about something the Dead Milkmen wrote about Cracker, in a 1993 zine.

“We’re all fucked if George Bush is re-elected next week...” 

Those October 2004 thoughts seem somewhat novel compared to how fucked we could be in November 2024. 

January 2002

For a stretch between 1999 and 2002, I made it back to Minnesota around the holidays every year. Many of the nights I was in town were spent in the basement of Crazy Carl's old house. On several instances, I would be recording audio of the room for projects that never materialized. I usually didn't say much during these recordings, Which typically amounted to Trav and Doktor John being highly entertaining for hours.

During my January 2002 MN Vacation, I recorded 11 hours of audio tape, over multiple nights in Carl's basement. The cast changed each night, with only Carl and I consistently appearing on all of it. After bringing the tapes back to Colorado and editing them down into tracks, I turned it into Wasted Audio 3. Over 6 and a half hours of people making fun of everything that hits our radar.

I remember once talking to Trav as I was editing all of that audio. He said it was just as valid a vacation souvenir as a picture or a commemorative snow globe. No matter how stupid my creative ideas may have seemed, Trav was always very supportive of them

And to this day, I can't listen to Carl's Jug Band without laughing until I hurt.

Which was a bit entirely developed and instigated by Trav, in the background of all the other wackiness.

I really like this picture. Even if I really don't like anything surrounding it.

(I have no problems with that dog.)

Trav was a key part in various Wasted Audio recordings in 2001, 2002, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010 and 2011. I have more hours of recordings with him than anyone else. Hours of stories about our lives, what was going on then and before. What we liked, what we hated, what we wanted and what we didn't. I didn't think much about what I was getting when I pressed record. Just that it would be excellent material to work with in a future project.

I don't know if those projects will ever develop. If they don't, at least I have these recordings to look back on. There wont be any new ones made, so I will treasure the ones I have.

September 2004

Trav's record collection is growing by leaps and bounds, so he reaches out to my father to weld some stable and secure record shelves. He was very happy with what my dad made, and had him build more as the collection expanded. I hadn't seen how it grew in the last few years, but he had an impressive record collection the last time I dropped by the basement.

May 2010

Posing for a front cover of Wasted Quarter, in a hotel room at the Jackpot Junction Casino, in Morton, MN. As terrible as this stretch of time was, I had no idea exactly what the subject matter under this cover would be when this photo was taken. We'll just say the cover is the best part of that whole ugly mess. 

So yeah, it was prophetically important!

May 2008

Happier times for me, just two years earlier. Terrible photograph of some sort of interpretive measuring cup dance. Not sure what was going on here.

Around that same time, an awesome gift from Trav was the final straw for my cheap 1989 stereo from Kmart. Anxious to hear the story of the Pac Man Run For Fun, I put the record on. I didn't notice right away, just how slow the turntable was spinning. The music sounded all distorted, and I kind of liked it... But when the narrator commenced to narrating, all that came out of my speakers was a slow and deep drawl. Which was getting worse by the second. Not even a minute in, just before the record finally stopped turning, it sounded like Satan was yelling at me with really slowed down high pitched sound effects.

I really liked it actually...

Never did find out what happened to Pac Man and his Run For Fun. Sure, I could have read the accompanying book, but I shouldn't have to do that.

They provided audio! Who wants to read?

January 2010

Trav flew out to Denver to hang with Oliver, me (and the ex) for a weekend. It was tense at times, because just a few months earlier, Trav relayed a message to me via email, directly relating to a sensitive situation between me and her -achooo lies- and accidentally included her on that email. That whole situation was pretty gross. It was an easy mistake for him to make, and an awful fight resulted. But he was right and she was a lying twat. 

"El Cunty is Spanish for The Cunty."

Many rounds of Honkass Scrabble were played during the weekend, amidst record store searches and Frank the Pizza King. Trav excelled at Honkass Scrabble. I couldn't take him down. Not when you can place "Wizholes" with the Z on a Triple Letter Score.

How do you beat that?

There was also copious amounts of The Whitest Kids U Know on the TV that weekend. One of the last great sketch comedy shows to come around. Sometimes you need a big bunch of dick and weed jokes. As long as there's a little substance behind them. Or they're just well written dick and weed jokes.

October 2012

You didn't often get a picture of a smiling Trav, but a new record arriving in the mail would usually do the trick. He was also good at sending interesting stuff to me, throughout my years in Colorado, when I wasn't expecting it. I loved getting surprise letters from Trav, in the mail. Always accompanied by some unexpected strange little gift. 

Such as this great Canadian cigarette package. No, this wasn't my inspiration to quit smoking cigarettes, now 17 months ago. But I'd bet it reminded me of how tasty and relaxing a cigarette break would have been after I finished laughing at it. Wish I could have one right now.

News like this really makes me crave a yummy, delicious, Winston Light 100's BOX!

September 20, 2015

I was Trav's best man at his wedding in 1998. So it was natural that he would be mine at the Civil Unifying Ceremony (we don't say the M word) that Laura and I had a few days before this picture was taken. Meaning we didn't have our Civil Unifying Ceremony inside the River Place Grill and Convenience Store, in Fridley, MN. Just blocks from his house.

Although that would have been funny.

And a quicker drive for Doktor John, who Civil Unifying Ceremonied us. 

I keep seeing things that I know would have made Trav laugh, since we shared a very similar sense of humor. Now I have to stop myself from texting them to him, because... Yeah... Oh, right…

The Johnny Rotten-off.

A couple of years ago, one of us (I don't remember who) made a reference to Punk Rock legend, Johnny Rotten, unironically becoming a Drumpf-loving, far right wing conservative, in a text message. Who also got REALLY fat over the last 10 or so years. This lead to swapping of multiple Big Fat Johnny Rotten pictures and re-written Sex Pistols and PiL lyrics. 

Now with lyrics about how much loves food!

"This person's had enough... Of stale day-old pastries... Always remember!"

Next time Big Fat Johnny Rotten is coming through Anoka, (I'm sure Public Image Ltd. would draw at the Lyric Arts Theater. I'd definitely go!) he really needs to stuff his face with some Jellybean & Julia's BBQ!

November 5, 2017

Cory (middle) had opened his restaurant in Anoka, and I was in town on vacation. Trav and I were just returning from photographing Saxon Motors in Elk River (parts one and two), and dropped by Cory's to sample his product. 

I do not know if Jellybean & Julia's BBQ gets any Pork Butt from Bunzl, but when Trav worked for Bunzl in the early 2000's, he grabbed a Bunzl Pork Butt pallet tag for me. Over the years, Trav became a regular at Jellybean & Julia's BBQ. And I should definitely get there more often than I do.

And so should you!

Go there NOW!!!

Trav and I ate there on our way to Minneapolis to see The Residents, last spring.

March 23, 2023

It was almost a year ago when he convinced me that I really needed to see The Residents with him, when they came back through Minneapolis, in March. And I'm so glad I did. I didn't know it at the time, but this would be my last awesome night with one of my best and closest friends. I bought their 50th Anniversary Trading Card set from the merch stand, and told him that since I bought cards here, this show would now qualify to be written about on Four Baggers. We brainstormed a few ideas and he said he can't wait to read it. 

I scanned all 50 cards in the set, and wrote about my personal history with the Residents' music, around them. Stories that included Trav, who I immediately recommended their album I'd just bought, back in 1997. Trav had seen them twice, against my zero. Blended in with my stories told through each of the 50 cards, with a bunch of photographs and video I recorded during The Residents set. 

Theme From Buckaroo Blues / The Stampede

A deep cut from The Residents catalog that I was overjoyed to see performed live. Thanks to Trav for taking me to this show. And extra special thanks to security at the Cedar Cultural Center for not caring that I was blatantly holding my phone up, taking pictures and recording the duration of the entire concert.

Today I'm glad I did. I don't know if that was greatest night I ever had with Trav, but it's very high on the list, and I have a detailed record of it. Now all of these videos of live Residents songs I recorded have a newer and far more difficult memory tied to them.

I finally finished my Residents story in August. It's one of my favorites I've written. Probably a bit much for a non-fan, but it tells a good story, in combining a bunch of stories. Which are my favorite stories to write.

While it in no way compares to losing my closest friend of the last 30 years, I also lost my baseball card store in November 2023. Pal's Sports Cards was one of my favorite places to waste several hours, surrounded by all those little pictures of teams and athletes I enjoyed watching. Close to my house and staffed by people I liked talking to and being around. At least once every other weekend. Baseball cards aside, this was more of a small community that really meant something to me.

On November 19th, the card store had been closed for a week, but work was already underway inside for a new tenant. I took my required photos and sent one to Trav. In what would be our last conversation, via text message, we briefly talked about the store closing. But more about the work I'd already done in preparing to write a story about one of the biggest paradoxes I could think of. 

An abandoned store that last sold baseball cards.

Two things I love separately, but put together, is one of the saddest things I could think of to have to write a story about.

Until you find a story so sad that it puts that to shame. So my previous saddest story I could think of was put on hold so I could write the newest previous saddest story I could think of. So Abandoned Baseball Card Store is coming soon, instead of something you already read.

November 20, 2023

Walking by a garbage can at work, this caught my eye: 

Polar Poo!

That brown paper is covering up the stem of the P, so it reads Polar Poo! You know who would find this funny? Trav! So I snapped a picture and texted it to him.

Not long after, Jen called me and broke the news of Trav's death.

I guess Polar Poo isn't funny.

Damn.

In the span of 8 days, I lost my beloved baseball card store and the community it involved.

Then I lost one of my closest friends in my entire life. 

This is hard to process.

I know I'm not one to talk, but a simple second glance should have caught that extra space between Wednesday and comma, and 20 and comma. These are some real early-WQ style errors! A crematorium should just do better.

But that's not the detail that's really going to bug me. 

Ignoring the year, his birth date matches his death date.

This isn't coincidence. 

For years, Trav argued the case for Bookends. That was his term for how he'd envisioned the perfect ending being. Go out the day you came in. It was a clean round number. 

Back in January 2002, when I was recording all those hours of Wasted Audio in Crazy Carl's basement, there's a part of a track where Trav and John are discussing suicide. Trav presented his well thought out case for bookends, in relation to suicide. It was all done in a joking manner, and was quite funny at the time. It was part of the Trav character we all assumed he was playing. None of this was serious, it was just a funny conversation amongst good friends.

But it wasn't.

That was over 22 years ago. 3 years before becoming a father. 

You didn't outgrow a selfish, stupid and childish act like "bookends?"

Why'd you have to go and do this?

Damat man... You and John and I should be in a booth at Perkins, drinking coffee and talking shit about people we've encountered over our last 48 years of living. 

Not this.

This isn't how this should have ended.

At his service I was shocked at the number of people that came out to honor his memory. I had no idea he had left the impression he had on so many others. They shared their stories of the person Trav was to them, and it was a variation of who Trav was to me. There was a common theme, having him as a part of their lives made them feel better for knowing him. And I feel the same.

Some people's role in life is to be a part of yours for a while, until they disappear. They make you laugh, they even better person, just by experiencing life with them. Even for a brief period, just as much as a decades long friendship. Which I placed a great deal of value in, just as the people who showed up today.

I'll never know what was going through his head, both at the end and all the years leading up to it. 30 years of dark humor that was more real than hilarious, yet still dark. I know what he'd told me over the years. Some in the context of joking around, some not so much. But the longer I knew Trav, I'd already partially accepted that this was a likely outcome.

Not everyone can be saved.

December 2, 2023

Jen and Holden releasing his father's ashes into the Mississippi River, at his favorite point in the hiking trail. Tragically the same place he took his life 12 days earlier. 

I hope you found the peace that eluded you.

Even though it's hard, I will remember you for the friend you were to me for nearly 30 years.

And not what you did on your 48th birfday. 

I will always hate what you did, but I love you man.

There isn't going to be too many days where I don't think of you. It may be from recalling a stupid story from 99 Spillihp or Crazy Carl's basement, or snapping a quick picture of something I saw at a gas station, that I know you'd find as funny as I did. Or a new You Tube video of Mike Patton screaming at silverware he's throwing down some stairs. Or grotesquely ironic bumper stickers.

The list is endless.

All of these things are going to pop up you wont be there to share the laugh. 

I will miss that forever.

Thank you for everything.