I met Dylan on his first day of working as a reporter at the Daily Sundial. I was the Arts and Entertainment Editor for Spring 2008, and I was surprised at how few people wanted to write about the best part of life – art and music! Dylan came to me with this unbridled enthusiasm, this light in his eyes- a serious passion for music and film. One of the first pieces he wrote was a concert review of the Mars Volta. He turned in well over a thousand words of praise and appreciation for the show, each a carefully woven thread of artistic imagery and careful, studied description. Dylan was the guy you would see at a concert with his head thrown back, the pulsing rhythms and medleys of melodies lifting him to a sacred place. This guy lived and breathed music, and his writing was a transformation of notes and beats into poetic words. This is how I’d like to remember Dylan- a person with such intense love for music that he found a way to combine it with every aspect of his life. There can be tremendous beauty within such creativity, and I really feel that Dylan was a true believer in the power of art and music. Dylan may have left us in person, but I know his spirit will continue to live in the music all around us.
– Alyssa Lofgren, former A’amp; editor, spring ’08
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Dear Dylan,
I miss you. I miss your smile in particular. You don’t know this, but every time you smiled at me I would feel so incredibly happy. There was something special about you. You were truly one of a kind my dear friend.
I can still hear your sweet voice in my ear. I can hear you telling me how you thought the music I was listening to was garbage, or how you thought a certain movie was amazing.
You always had a way of making me feel special in a way no one ever had. There was a sweetness about you I thought I would never get to see.
In the short time we were friends you brought light and clarity into my life. You were more than a friend to me. You were my confidant. All the times we would escape from the stresses of our lives and turn to each other for a laugh or a hug will always stay with me deep in my heart.
In the days after your death I tried so hard to find the one song on my playlist that could express my love for you and how much I miss you. Then one day a song came on and the vision of your smile came into my mind.
Besides saying I love you and that I miss you, I’ve found a song that expresses all my feelings for you Dylan. I will never forget you.
‘The shadow of your smile / When you are gone / Will color all my dreams / And light the dawn / Look into my eyes / My love and see / All the lovely things / You are to me’
– Eileen Mansoorian, opinion editor
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His name was Dylan Miles. Dylan like Bob Dylan, and Miles like the miles you drive, or Miles Davis. I had known him for most of my time at CSUN, we always seemed to end up in a class together. When we met, he noticed the book I was reading, one by Tom Wolfe with an unnecessary long title. He brought up a conversation about Wolfe’s friendship with Hunter S. Thompson, the infamous Gonzo journalist both of us were quite fond of.’
We shared a love for music, movies, and literature, although his knowledge of ‘pop culture’ completely surpassed mine, or any other self-proclaimed nerd I knew. As a ravenous music collector, Dylan gave me every Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and Mars Volta album ever made, something that continues to impress music fanatics that scroll through my iPod. I always give him credit.
As I learned later through many conversations with Dylan, he wanted to write like Hunter S., in a stream of consciousness fashion, but as I’m sure he knew, he already did. Except, his writing was unlike anything I had ever read’hellip; ever.
‘ His writing, like himself, was complex, yet simply poetic and beautiful. The man was talented to say the least.
The man was an artist, although he hated when people used that word lightly. He would probably disagree with me.
The man was goin’ places.
Dylan often told me that me and him would be among the select few that would write about the catastrophic events our world would face; If that prophesy becomes reality, I will be saddened to not have such a gifted lunatic by my side.
He told me a lot of things, and I knew with all my soul that he meant every word, regardless of what he thought.
Dylan always spoke his mind; in fact it was hard to stop him from doing so. It’s what I most admired about him. He was sincere, honest and surprisingly warm and caring, inside his sarcastic and cynical exterior.
Dylan was Dylan:
Intense.
Imaginative.
‘ And of course, insanely intelligent.
Oh, and he made great eggs.
Godspeed Dylan. When you read this, remember that you meant something, you mattered, and we cared.’ Know that I remember everything, and always will.
‘My kind is your kind, I’ll stay the same.’
Your young lovely,
Cindy Von Q, Features Editor, Fall 2008
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‘It’s just a fond farewell to a friend’ – Elliot Smith
To me as one trained to be a wordsmith, no words come to describe the passing of the person I admire — Dylan Miles. In the newsroom few feet from my desk, his chair is now empty… I can’t quite explain how such tremendous talent and personality could vanish from the place on campus that we all as staff called home. A bit of it is lost for ever…memories of rushing into the fires, train wrecks and an election…and now our dear Dylan. I hope you didn’t forget to pack your favorite tunes as you head up into the heavens. I know you’re fond of music. Please don’t forget to drop us a line once in a while..I’ll be sure to mark it up with my red pencil =) Farewell Dylan Miles, your friend and faithful copy editor Denys.
– Denys Nazarov, copy editor
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Dylan Miles, my friend and fellow journalist to be, fellow CSUN journalism prot’eacute;g’eacute;, passed Monday evening.?’ Dylan was a great writer.? Something captured ever so slightly by those lucky enough to grace his presence.? ?
Dylan and I had the opportunity to learn from one another right from the beginning of our journalistic endeavors.? Melissa Wall’s J100 class quickly gave me an outlet for my political rants, and watchdog spirit. To Dylan it was so much more.? It was the outlet for his soul.?
We quickly became friends. You could usually find us collaborating on some crazy party idea or a music project that he and I loved to talk about.? ‘ Dude, lets start a magazine,’ I would say, ‘ Just music and politics, a big middle finger to the establishment!’? His reply always was ‘Sounds excellent man.’?
I knew the darkness that stalked him.? It’s difficult when you’re as passionate about things as Dylan was.? We shared dark times, though always emerging with smiles and hugs and appreciation for the guts we had just spilled to each other. Dylan was my friend.?
Now what do we do?? We move on.? We remember our fallen brother, friend, and son.? Dylan was one of the best and still is.? People will remember this man, not for the tragedy, but for the genius, sincerity, honesty, realism, and creativity that Dylan embodied.? ?
He will be missed, that is not going to be debated. But what can we learn from our friend, what can we learn and carry with us as his legacy?? We can learn that one can never be too complacent with the state of things.? Dylan constantly looked for the meaning and message in everything and if there is one thing that we can come away with it is this: Stand up for what you believe, stand tall and stand proud.
– Jason deBroux
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Dylan Miles: The intense life of a writer, musician, friend, brother and son
Alonso Y’aacute;’ntilde;ez, copy editor
It might have been the liberty, like the catharsis produced by one of his obscure musical recommendations
. Perhaps it was his candid frankness or his camaraderie. Or maybe it was the ambiguity, like the iris in his eyes.
In any case, you’re not the only person for whom his words and gestures became inspirational lullabies that you enjoyed thanks to conversations and mental trips where you learned to respect and appreciate human creativity. His way of living, his gestures and, above all, the words he uttered, which were neither sacred, happy nor sad, but seditious, were the origin of a struggle we all experience, but that in him looked like a memorable waltz we all watched with a complicitous smile.
During his prolific 22 years of life, Dylan Miles, CSUN senior journalism major and Daily Sundial Arts ‘amp; Entertainment editor, cultivated innumerable close and life-marking relationships and demonstrated his dexterity in many fields, such as journalism or music. As the sharp and eclectic student that he was, Miles’ work evidenced the talent of someone predestined to excel, like Kurt Cobain or his all-time hero Hunter S. Thompson. Unfortunately, he chose to cut a corner just like them and died Nov. 24 at Pacifica Hospital of the Valley in Sun Valley.
As one of his reporters, Richard Casta’ntilde;eda, 25, shared a bond with Miles not only in their professional ambition, but also in music and film. Although they met four months ago, Casta’ntilde;eda says they clicked on many levels and considers him his best friend because of his warm and generous personality.
‘Dylan was as nihilistic as they come, but his altruistic behavior still peeks its way through his death,’ said Casta’ntilde;eda, a senior journalism major. ‘He’s an organ donor, so even in death he is still giving. Whoever gets his heart is an extremely lucky person.’
Because he was the kind of person who always had the right comment at the right moment, his career choice was very clear. Miles started to develop his passionate and obscure poetic style, since he went to Bellarmine-Jefferson High School in Burbank, where he graduated in 2004. Aside from being a straight-A student in high school, he was also in the dean’s list during his freshmen year at CSUN.
Miles, who is survived by his parents Lloyd, 64, and Alyce, 60, and his brothers David, 28, and Jesse, 34, was such an obsessive music fan that he covered every single inch of his room with posters from artists such as Led Zeppelin, The Mars Volta, Tool and Rage Against The Machine, aside from keeping a drum set in the living room of his house in Pacoima, where he wrote music and practiced for his metal band Defile.
‘I would love to see (Dylan) play in Defile, watching him shine and leave people in awe,’ said his brother David Miles. ‘But he was also really passionate about writing, he never stopped. He was actually my favorite poet.’
Even though he probably came across to those who didn’t know him profoundly as a careless and anarchic person, Miles was in fact a very outspoken and caring man, always concerned about his loved ones and the world. Perhaps he cared too much.
Few people have walked through life with such passion and irreverence, accumulating friendships between smokes, music, literature, film and drinks. After one week without him, it is evident many people enjoyed, with the stereo’s volume insolently and excessively loud, one of his musical or literary recommendations while remembering his words, which said nothing but delineated everything. And that’s where everything began’hellip;
Then going against the flow gave you pleasure; and doubting, happiness. And as you got to know him more through casual exchanges of black humor and dissident opinions, he opened your eyes to different worlds where conformism, mediocrity and simple-mindedness are banned. But he departed without knowing how many people admired him and now his image is stuck like still frames in your mind, making you think about his idyllic phrases so much so that the hands of the clock start going counterclockwise.
The scent of his spontaneity is still recognizable in the school’s hallways and the newsroom, just as his complicity for making it possible for many distant, distracted and differing people to share something. Almost nothing’hellip; In fact, everything. Thanks Dylan!
