I didn’t know Chris Casey as well as others did. Part of a mess of adult children who ran amuck in LA in the final years of the aughts. Pre internet souls who grew up running through neighborhoods as kids with fireworks in hands playing Nicky Nicky nine doors. The first ones to smoke, swear, skate. I was skateboard adjacent. Cute girl who could party like a trucker.
At the time I worked with Dimitry Elyashkevich, the DP for Jackass. One text reply from him on a lost night in Hollywood would open up a door to my new family.
We lived at the Bowery and the Burgundy room. In between the Dickhouse offices and Dimitry’s. Nights that ran into mornings that didn’t end for years. The last of the wild before social media would swallow us all whole.
The sound of Casey’s wheels mashing the asphalt was always welcome tune. A snap up of his board and a whip from the tongue… Watch out! You never missed a Casey arrival.
A laugh to out-laugh the best of em.’ And a quiet dark heart made of gold. Cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Poetry in his eyes. Wild hair cascading with every smile. He always managed to say something that cut you so far to the core that all you could do was laugh at yourself.
Not self righteous but truly righteous.
If reading this, Casey would swing his hand in my face, “Bahhhhh!” he’d say. Modest but more importantly, true. He said what he meant and he meant what he said.
A fine cocktail of old soul, southern charm and childlike wonder.
My fondest memory of Casey was him skating through the crowds at a contest on the Paramount lot. Fake snow cascading down from a nearby movie set at magic hour. The tangerine sunbeams whipping through his hair like sparks. Slightly carving left and right …cruisin’ into the night.
May his sincere merry laugh fill these palm lined streets forever.
Goodnight Captain.
*The video above is from a Pumpkin Carving Party at his place in 2009. Linked HERE as well. .
Share this post