In the wake of a slew of celebrity deaths last week, it was easy to miss the death of a hometown hero. It wasn't that I had forgotten the death of Steven Wells, one of the best arts and entertainment writers Philadelphia has ever grown to know, I just wasn't sure what to say. Steven probably would have called me a "pussy licker," because that's just the kind of guy he was. In your face, straight up english witt, with a side of heart above all. He had made quite the name for himelf in England, his homeland, before working for Philadelphia Weekly for five years. Steven was unafraid to say what he thought, (he scared Bono shitless) especially about the very disease that plagued him; cancer. He was scared, sure, but he treated the situation like any other in life--he was pissed off, and the world was going to hear about it. It was this attitude that put so much life in his writing, and why he will be so greatly missed. For this reasson, I still think journalism is the best field in the entire world, despite being unemployed (save a dozen of free gigs) and in debt. I'm pissed off, sure, but life's a bitch. Steven taught me that; thank you Mr. Wells.
R.I.P Steven Wells - 1960-2009
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I've never heard of him, but I will definitely look him up now. Cancer is a very sad thing
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