Wednesday, Oct. 22, 2003 | 2:08 PM

I don't know what to say about Elliott Smith's passing. The fact that he was the soundtrack to one of the happiest years of my life. The fact that I can hear any of his songs and have a specific vivid memory attached to it. The fact that I saw him live at the Roxy and he played the most beautiful version of "Harvest Moon" I have ever heard. The fact that he seemed so happy that day onstage. The fact that my ex-boyfriend bought me an Elliott Smith bootleg last Christmas and it was right before we stopped talking and I haven't been able to bring myself to listen to it because of what it represents. The fact that I introduced my brother and sister both to Elliott and it was the first "indie" thing either of them liked. The fact that Elliot Smith, in an age of irony and slick safe hipsterdom, dared to be sincere and did so without being a big fucking Mr. Ponytail jagoff.

I feel sick right now and I don't have anything to say except I am so sad and so sorry and it's just not right.