21st
Martin Schaedel checks out -too fucking early
Martin was all fast, all future, all passion, all heart. He was mighty fun, he was super smart; things were absolutely remarkable with him. ;) He had a knack for superlatives, and you got caught in it, and the world started to look a lot funnier and a lot more interesting when you talked to him, instantly. I was lucky to meet him: he inspired me and he will continue to do so.
I am extremely sad, and shocked. I learned yesterday that Martin died on January 28th, when a small plane crashed in Santa Monica. I learnt it unbelievably late for the interconnectedness of the day but, at the same time, it only feels right that networks work a lot more slowly now that Martin’s checked out.
I met Marting when he cold-called his way into the technolgy scene in Argentina, scouting for ideas and talent, and getting to know the place in that way he had, through people. He liked standing in Florida, a very crowded street downtown, peoplewatching. We went out that night, and he got matched with a slightly drunk boxer-girl; there, while covering up for the jabs and laughing, you could see in his face the fun, and the thrill he got from everything new.
We remet in Copenhaguen and New York, and kept mostly in touch by email and long skype chats. Last time I saw him, last autumn in NY, we had sunday brunch with Pola and friends in Brooklyn and then that night we went out for drinks. He was drinking grey goose with ginger and playing nervously with his wristwatch and that got us talking. He was a little low, but we had fun that night. The next day, when I was about to board my plane back to Buenos Aires, I got into an airport store and bought a wristwatch, the first one I weared since I was thirteen. I have it right in front of me as I write.
My last few email exchanges with Martin are from last december, and from January 19th 2009. In December he was bored (“Anything exciting on your end? Just finishing up a South East Asia tour myself, pretty bored to be honest.”), in January he was wired (“Currently in Colorado heading for Park City today, then Seattle, LA next week, and should be back in NYC around the 1st of Feb or so”, although he never made it)
Feeling up or feeling down, he was always smart, he was always super.
When I try to picture Martin’s death, as the acrobatic plane crashed into the tarmac, I’m reminded of the death scene of Gavroche in Les Miserables, dancing and singing in front of the bullets. Martin was to the world, in the XXIst century, what Gavroche was to Paris in the XVIIIth: a fearless, selfless, singing ruffian that epitomized his times and was loved by all.
Martin was only 23 when he died, and we will all miss witnessing what he could become. But his life was full, and he lived it to the end the only way he knew: fast and curious.
You will be missed Martin, but not forgotten.
Kudos,
EK./
