I gave this dry erase board to Hoyt by way of our Dollar Store Secret Santa last year. It was completely by chance and, when he picked it out, I didn’t think he’d have any use for it at all. Boy, was I wrong.
Hoyt Jacobs was a truly accepting person and made the best of his experiences. He cooked me dumplings more than once, was a connoisseur of Cards Against Humanity, and reinvigorated my love of Tommy Wiseau. We went to a midnight screening of The Room last year, and I have a distinct memory of Hoyt having a handful of plastic spoons thrown in his face by a stranger as he came back from the bathroom. That night was one of the best experiences of my life, and it was all thanks to Hoyt.
There was nothing too weird for him. Nothing he couldn’t hear and give a knowing smile. He was an iconoclast of a human being. He danced poorly, he wore whatever whatever felt best in that moment and gave zero fucks, he talked freely.
Maybe Hoyt didn’t always say the right things. Maybe he didn’t show up for things on time (or at all) but when he came, you noticed. He brings that much to a room.
He had good intentions, he had a good heart. Goodbye, dear friend.
– John Rice, Oh, Bernice! Writers Collective