Phil Gunn
Phil Gunn was a CTYer who spent his squirrel year at Lancaster second session in 2005. Phil was known for recitation of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Conqueror Worm" at the student Talent Show, and for his extremely warm and compassionate nature. Tragically, only two weeks after CTY ended he underwent heart surgery, and died a few hours after the operation of heart failure or a heart attack.
All those who knew him miss Phil terribly, and he has been the subject of many tributes. These include a a moving performance of Yellowcard's "The View from Heaven" by Sarah Hackney at the second session talent show, and a recital of "The Conqueror Worm" by Shea Levy at the Last Supper. [Shea Edit: Guys, keep doing that. Phil needs to be remembered]
Phil's name will appear on the Alcove shirts until 2007, which would have been his nomore year. In those years, a bottle of Passion Fruit will also be spilled in his memory. Furthermore, the Afterdance chant "In Heaven There Is No Beer" has been chanted for sessions 06.1 and 06.2 with Phil's name, and is likely to remain so for the concieveable future.
Phil Gunn is the only known person who is eligible for a Game Patch. A patch is currently in the making (see The Patch).
A rememberance of Phil by a friend of his can be found here.
Phil at Passionfruit LAN.05.2:
http://i8.tinypic.com/24llsew.jpg Nixxi 19:14, 13 August 2006 (MST)
More about Phil
Philip (Phil) Gunn was born in February, 1991. He lived in Ithaca, NY and had an older brother, who was apparently a bit of a delinquent. His best friend at home was a girl named Christine. When he grew up, he aspired to be a chef.
At CTY LAN II '05, Phil hung out around the chess boards
Phil was very romantic; he gave the girl that he liked a flower before each dance. He also had a crazy sense of humor, like on second Saturday when he borrowed a friend's bra, whcih he stuffed with tissues and peppermints, cami, and short skirt. He walked around asking people if they wanted mints, then if they said yes, he would whip one out of his bra and proceed to burst out laughing. Then he played a game of Silent Football, where his name was "Boob Job."
Phil wasn't always jolly (who is?), he got angry just like everyone else over small and weird things, but he was always good for a laugh and loved to make jokes and cheer people up.
Phil died on August 12, 2005, a week after CTY ended, at CHOP in Philadelphia. It was two days after a minor operation on his heart to widen an artery.
View from Heaven (Yellowcard)
I'm just so tired
Won't you sing me to sleep
And fly through my dreams
So I can hitch a ride with you tonight
And get away from this place
Have a new name and face
I just ain't the same without you in my life
Late night drives, all alone in my car
I can't help but start
Singing lines from all our favorite songs
And melodies in the air
Singin' life just ain't fair
Sometimes I still just can't believe you're gone
And I'm sure the view from heaven
Beats the hell out of mine here
And if we all believe in heaven,
Maybe we'll make it through one more year
Down here
Feel your fire,
When its cold in my heart
And things sorta start
Remindin' me of my last night with you
I only need one more day
Just one more chance to say
I wish that I had gone up with you too
And I'm sure the view from heaven
Beats the hell out of mine here
And if we all believe in heaven
Maybe we'll make it through one more year
Down here
You won't be comin' back
And I didn't get to say goodbye (goodbye)
I really wish I got to say goodbye
And I'm sure the view from heaven
Beats the hell out of mine here
And if we all believe in heaven
Maybe we'll make it through one more year
I hope that all is well in heaven
Cuz it's all shot to hell down here
I hope that I find you in heaven
Cuz I'm so...
Lost without you down here
You won't be coming back
And I didn't get to say goodbye (goodbye)
I really wish I got to say gooooodbye
The Conqueror Worm
LO! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years.
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.
Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly;
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their condor wings
Invisible Woe.
That motley drama—oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot;
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.
But see amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude:
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And over each quivering form
In human gore imbued.
Out—out are the lights—out all!
And over each quivering form
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.
---Edgar Allen Poe
