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About Brian

Brian Webster Pusey was a musician and artist born in 1975. He grew up on a farm in Snow Hill, Maryland and later moved to Baltimore and Los Angeles. He worked as a graphic designer and copywriter at Cimarron Group, a Hollywood marketing firm, for many years and at the time of his death. 

 

Brian died of a fall from a balcony on November 26th, 2007 in Amarillo, Texas. There is mystery surrounding his death and his loved ones and friends still have questions about the nature of his state of mind. He was not under the influence of drugs or alcohol at the time but he was not himself. What is known from witness accounts is that he was experiencing hallucinations and was unable to correctly answer simple questions, like his age or the year. 

 

The story of Brian’s death can’t be fully known because it died with Brian. The simple explanation of intentional suicide doesn’t square well with anyone who knew him. So the story is different for all who knew him and their own unique understanding of him. 

 

From friends: 

 

Through the years Brian has been so many things to us-- a brother, a son, a hilarious comedian, the one person who kept a detailed record of all our most laughable moments, a creative inspiration, and a compassionate friend. But no matter who he was to us, on any given day, he was always one constant-- a radiant and innocent soul. He was one of the most sincere people we have ever known. His music, his poetry, his humor, and sensitivity will stay with us forever.

 

-Stephanie McClaren & Louis Jordan, Baltimore & Los Angeles

 

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"The very first time I met Brian, he immediately acted like we were already good friends. Being the suspicious type, I wondered what the hell his game was. Why was this cool cat lovebombing me? Was this some kind of Scientology trick? I learned quickly that that's just how Brian was an incredibly kind and generous soul with a good haircut and not a hint of judgement. Not long after we first hit it off, I went through a period of going through some heavy shit and we lost touch for a minute. I remember running into him at a Warlocks show at The Derby, and we agreed we should hang out. But, you know, this is L.A., and people say stuff like that all the time but it often doesn't materialize. I kept clarifying that no, we should *actually* hang out sometime. The dude was so pure of spirit he couldn't understand why I would doubt our mutual sincerity. 

 

So follow through we did. Brian was like an instant partner in crime. I can't remember even going through a friendship audition period with him; we were pretty much brothas from anotha motha right away, and I can't think of a better guy to have run slightly amok with in my late 20's in Hollywood. Our personalities complimented each other well; I'm a terminal cynic, Bri was a hopeless romantic. One time I pointed out to him that the main difference between us was that he was always surprised when some new person turned out to be an a-hole; I was surprised when they didn't. We kept each other in check. I'd like to believe that beyond a mutual vice or two, we were a good influence on each other.

 

The moment I learned that we had lost our dear friend is forever burned into my mind. I still think of him all the time, and the good times we had, and how real our friendship was. I often wonder what he would have thought of things he never got to see: iPhones. Facebook. Barack Obama's presidency. Deerhunter. Ridesharing. The rise of populism. SNL Digital Shorts. I mourn not being able to bond over the things we did not yet have in common during his lifetime, but do now. How I wish I had let him get me into The Jam (among others of  his favorite bands) while he was still around, rather than from beyond the grave (I "borrowed" the box set from his collection when packing his things up after he was gone.) I mourn the stolen arc of our friendship; I have little doubt that he would still be game for going to shows on work nights, even at our advanced age. And I mourn not getting to see each other grow into the men we were meant to become. 

 

So yeah, I miss the hell out of Brian Webster Pusey. It's been awhile since he paid me a visit in my sleep. Drop in some time, won't you, pal, and let us know how things are going?"

 

-Andrew Kaiser, Los Angeles

 

  

 

 Brian was a supportive, loyal, true, up-for-anything, talented friend. I miss him. 

 

-Iris Alonzo, Los Angeles

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He and I had talks about mystical stuff a lot, and he told me once that there's some things we weren't supposed to know, like it wasn't our place as mortal beings to try to look behind the curtain or pierce the veil of reality, so to speak. That was in response to my always wanting delve into the deeper mysteries and esoteric sides of things, but what Bri was doing I think was trying to protect me from trying to go too deep into the abyss, and to just trust in the divine order of things, if you ascribe to that sort of thing. Bc Brian, I truly feel, was a mystic. He didn't do anything overtly about that in the way you'd normally think of it, but spirit was close to him and he had an incredible sensitivity and kindness that was borderline saintly. Of course, he wasn't perfect, no one is, but he always tried to see the good in people and rarely if ever said a bad word about someone. But this sensitivity he had also had its drawbacks, because while Brian cared very much about beauty and truth, and was the consummate purist and idealist, he found himself in a world that was, at best, indifferent to those things, and it hurt him deeply. He tried in his own way to reconcile himself to the fact that the world isn't, wasn't, and never will be what he wanted it to be, which is why he tried to find his own slice of the universe he envisioned through his art. And this is why, as an artist myself, faced with a world that seems with each passing year to care more and more about mammon and ugliness and less and less about beauty and art and philosophy and truth, that it is more important than ever to keep fighting the good fight against these forces by making art, if for no other reason than to do it for Brian, because he'd be cheering me and all the rest of us on. In fact, he probably is. After Bri's passing, I really changed my whole motivation around my creativity and took it far more seriously, for the reasons I just said. It's bc I know it's what Bri would want, bc it's what he cared the most about. I have him to thank for that among the many other things I miss every day. His goofy laugh, his eyes that looked through you and sometimes seemed to be looking at something else I couldn't see; jumping up and down on his bed like kids while we cranked The La's and the Stone Roses on his stereo; watching old school skate videos; going to shows; lazy weekends and long brunches; his sensitivity and kindness towards his fellow man; his stubborn unwillingness to be bludgeoned into bitter cynicism by the forces i mentioned earlier, to keep believing that people are inherently good and that life is worth living. And this is why I and we all know that what happened that night wasn't the act of a rational mind, bc Brian was such an ardent believer in life. While none of us can ever really know what he could have possibly been going through internally in those last two months, I just get the sense that maybe he knew he was needed somewhere else, and didn't know how to make sense of it or reconcile himself to it. That maybe he got the feeling his job here was done, and that he had done what he came here to do, that he had fulfilled his purpose in this life. Though obviously it's impossible to ever know that, I like to think of the profound impression he left on everyone who was ever close to him as a testament to that, and to him having maximized his time while here. I know he certainly left one on me. I miss your brother, my friend, my brother-in-arms, my fellow artistic compatriot and wild-eyed dreamer prince. The world is a lesser place without him.

 

I've attached the poem I mentioned that I firmly believe he gave to me in that dream. There's a reference to the poet e.e. cummings in there; I know Bri loved him, and so did/do I. We talked about him a lot. It's not the only poem I've written about him though; there's been several others, all dealing with different degrees of loss etc.  So yeah, he definitely left an impression on me, and is missed every single day by all of us. 

 

-Steve Fleet, Los Angeles

 

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Brian was the most genuine being I have ever known. Knowing Brian is knowing what love is.

-Marjorie Paloma, Baltimore 

Want to share a memory? Please do!  Email:  thebrianplace@gmail.com
 

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