David Brame:
An American

Yo, in the housing, thousands seen early graves
Victims of wordly ways, memories stays engraved”

— From
A Better Tomorrow, by the Wu-Tang Clan

My friends, we gather here today to remember and pay tribute to a friend, a colleague, a brother, a man so amazing that the word itself was a part of his name: Amazing David.

David Allan Brame was born Charleston, SC on May 16, 1983 at the tender age of zero, to parents Priscilla and Willie Brame. David moved around a lot as a child, living in South Carolina, North Carolina, Florida, Virginia, New Jersey and Ohio, and traveled much of the world in his twenty-five years on it, roaming across the UK, France, Italy, Switzerland, Costa Rica, Panama, Nicaragua, and Canada – often to avoid arrest.

Even from an early age, David was an incredibly smart and imaginative, believing that the fictional lands he read about in storybooks — such as Middle-Earth, Narnia, and Circus Palace — actually existed, which helped shape his future as both an artist and a writer.

Throughout his years, from his youth to his teens and into adulthood, David was a laidback man who liked to have a good time. Whether it was painting or drawing comics, beating up Muscular Dystrophy kids in the sixth grade, hanging out and watching movies with friends, sponging free video games off of Make-A-Wish cancer kids, wrecking fools in Soul Caliber, or laughing at “a downy kid, riding his bike, screaming down the street [when] nothing was chasing him,” David enjoyed the simple things in life.

Speaking of simple things, David Brame was also an appreciator of women, so long as they were completely crazy and white. Or Asian, who, as he once explained, “are like white women with jaundice and are better at math.”

However, all his public love affairs were a lie; all the women he dated-slash-fucked, beards. In truth, David Brame struggled his entire life with the secret desire to one day be one hundred percent homosexual and his heart, as well as his penis, belonged to one beard in particular, Skyler Paris.

During his brief and awkward “heterosexual” period, David also fathered two children: his little girl, Karma, whom he loved with all of his heart and soul, in whom he instilled his most valued ideals – such as mistrusting “Whitey” and staying off the [stripper] pole — claiming multiple times that she was his inspiration and motivation for being a better father, for being a better man, for just being better. And, you know, the other kid.

When he wasn’t sitting in a jail cell or having sex with white women, David attended the Columbus College of Art and Design, where he honed his artist skill and shaped his own unique personal style and fashion, by growing both dreadlocks and obese, and wearing a lot of pink, mesh tops, pants so tight they split as soon as he’d put them on, and grandma jewelry.

While at the school, he met friends Michael Harris and Kevin Rapp, along with whom he eventually tri-founded The Triumvirate, a group whose sole purpose for being was to produce the highest quality art that they could. And to also crush The COmpetition.

Upon hearing his untimely departure, his friends gathered together to mourn collectively and share stories. “Remember that time Dave was drunk for a full twenty-four hours?” “Oooh! There was that one time we were talking on the phone when he got pulled over doing 55 in a 35 and his last words to me were ‘I think I’m going to jail tonight. Yeah, I’m going to jail. If I don’t call you back, I’m in jail.’ He never did call me back and he was in jail.” Even though David is gone, on that night, celebrating his life, it was like there was a little piece of him that would live on in each of our hearts.

David is survived by his parents, Priscilla and Willie, one adopted and one half-sister, his children, Karma and the other one, dozens of close friends, as well as numerous warrants for his arrest.

Though David had several nicknames – Amazing David, Big Lockz, Wreckscaliber – he will always be my Negro Amigo.

And he will be missed.

Your friend (and part-time lover),
Boom Boom Storm Cloud


What do you mean, he’s not dead?



N***a owes me twelve dolla!