Bill Hicks – 2013

Bill Hicks would have been 52 years-old today.

For those of you who don’t know, he was a stand-up comic and gifted writer who passed away on February 26th, 1994 of pancreatic cancer at the age of 32.

And, he was my boyfriend.

I don’t talk of our intimate relationship very often though I’ve written about him in the past…see Falling Star…but to be quite honest, Bill was the love of my life.

When he left the planet, rather suddenly, he took my innocence along with him…swiped it like a favorite scarf or sweater never to be seen again. Gone was the happy, perky gal from Connecticut with her hope chest filled with dreams and dish towels, silver that came in detergent boxes and stemware her mother had stolen, just for her, from only the best restaurants. Did I mention my shrimp fork collection for seventy-five?

I had taken this big, 12 ply cardboard storage box I harbored for years leaving it out on the curb in the pouring rain the night of Bill’s funeral. With tears streaming down my face, I knew I wouldn’t be needing it anytime soon.

I no longer cared about cutlery and Pyrex casserole containers dreaming of making delicious dishes in, for my beloved who loved when I did.

It was one of the nicest traits Bill had having no problem accepting gifts or care that came especially in way of food. I’d always bring a big box of Dunkin Donuts whenever I flew to see him. It was why he’d pick me up with coffee for two, so we could get right down to the glazed nitty-gritty, his favorite, right there in the Avis rent-a-car.

Some men don’t cotton well to presents. It’s as if we’re trying to bribe them into love…manipulate their affection. Bill’s attitude was always, bribe on bay-ba.

He was from Texas so he had that sexy twang a Texan never makes excuses for. It’s embedded deep in their DNA like the heels on their boots and the way their jeans, without apology, hug their hips and hindquarters.

Hicks wasn’t a handsome man by any means, but was he hot, as they say. Girls, to my chagrin, would line up like half-naked geishas cooing their wares hoping to catch his eye. He’d always, like any good showman, reward them with a mere wink and smile, at least when I was there. My jealousy would rear its ugly head many a night causing fireworks followed by some of the best make-up sex any thirty-eight year old could ever set claim to.

My explanation was simple.

I loved him.

To this day, twenty-one years later, I still can’t bring myself to watch him or even see a photo of that famous face I so want to add to this essay. That means when I Google him, he’ll show up in spades…picture after picture gracing every stage many when I was proudly perched in the audience preening for my guy. Can I do that? Finally be a grown-up and face him after all this time? The jury’s still out.

When I wrote Falling Star back in 2011, my friend Amy added a snippet of him I’ve never seen. It’s still there like a phantom film clip holding its little cinematic ground.

There’s the box of love letters way in back of the closet with the last rose he gave me solemnly gracing its lid. I tell myself, if I go near it, it will turn to dust so best I leave it be,  and what it graciously guards like a grave no one bothers to visit anymore.

But the truth is…he, nor it, is even remotely forgotten. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of him; see something I know he’d love hearing him chuckle alongside me.

What people don’t realize about the tough Texan was how absolutely ridiculous how he could sometimes be. He was so revered by his peers and public, they never bothered to glimpse that side of him. He was a clown first and foremost, clad in leather and cowboy boots I’ll admit, but as he so aptly put it, “I’m a comedienne bay-ba…first…it’s who I am…and don’t you fur-get it.”

How could I?

All the other stuff…the bad boy persona…the long, laconic strut onto the stage. The way a mere look could go right through you making you feel naked and shy like never before.

I always say, I never felt quite as girlie as when I was with Hicks, his manners flush treating me as if I needed to be protected at all costs. He’d take my hand when crossing a street and my arm as we strolled. The smell of him, the coolness of his worn leather jacket against my cheek shielding me from the wind.

“Like the sound of them high heels lay-da,” he’d croon as they happily tap-danced on the pavement.

Yes…I was so, so happy back then.

One can’t help to wonder where a force like Bill Hicks ends up when he departs the planet for another realm yet to conquer. I remember a few days after he died having a dream seeing him beyond the clouds in concert with a big sign that said…SOLD OUT.

I felt so much better upon awakening, knowing he was working…entertaining the saints, if you will…because he was never so happy as when he graced a stage.

On this day Bill, the 16th of December, 2013, we’re all thinking of you…and wherever you are, always know, you’ll live in my heart forever.



images-90 December 16, 1961 – February 26, 1994

About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Thanks.
This entry was posted in Cinema, History, humor, Love, media, sex, sexual relationships, Uncategorized, women, Women and men, writing and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

24 Responses to Bill Hicks – 2013

  1. Love really does not fade, it’s as bright as a highlighter every step of the way throughout this essay. Celebrate Bill today….have a donut.


  2. skinnyuz2b says:

    A true love story. I’m so sorry you lost your soul-mate, but take some comfort in knowing that so many people live their lives never finding or knowing true love. As for not looking into your box of letters, I fully understand. I have a last year diary of a loved one that I haven’t been able to read for ten years this past October.


    • It feels wrong to be that afraid of overpowering feelings. Downloading that little picture was so hard for me. I could have come up with one so much better…him on stage…but just couldn’t bear it so I grabbed one that for me, hardly resembles him. The Bill I knew didn’t smoke anymore…he had lost weight…the irony when he got sick was he was truly at his healthiest…not drinking, doing yoga. He had even given up red meat; for a Texan, that’s really big. Thanks Skinny. Sorry about your loved one.


  3. katecrimmins says:

    My heart hurts for you. There is a melancholy sadness that you captured in a way that wasn’t depressing (if that makes any sense). Great tribute to a great man.


    • His comedy wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but he was a very talented soul taken much too soon. Imagine, 32 in your prime. He was already very well known in England and was about to start taping a show on the BBC he wrote with a friend called The Counts. He was also about to explode here when he was diagnosed. They gave him 3 months, he lived 8…still breaks my heart.


  4. micklively says:

    He was a pioneer. The world is a poorer place without him.


  5. Oh, my dear friend. My heart breaks for you. To not have the love of your life beside you is a wound that does not heal. Pancreatic Cancer is the worst and I am so sorry you experienced it so nearly. May this day hold an unexpected ray of sunshine for you, and as Life with the Top suggested, have a big donut in his memory. Have a half dozen for that matter. Toast to what you had, what you dreamt and who you are because of him. He sounds delightful and in love with you also. Know you are close to my heart today and I am so very sorry. This post was a loving tribute, well written and full of what you needed to say to him today.


    • Actually a friend just emailed to say the essay was rather schmultzy. Well, we like schmultz, what can I say. It was a long time ago but an experience that stays with you nonetheless…the loss…the shock…the bewilderment of, why him? It shattered my faith like broken glass. Thank you for such kind words…they very much softened my friend’s insensitive ones.


  6. billysigudla says:

    Reblogged this on Billysigudla’s Weblog and commented:
    sorry pal,you really loved him but do u know what caused the cancer?


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