I spent today trying to keep my mind busy. I did not want to fall into a pool of self-pity. After today, the pendulum begins its journey the other way. I am powerless to halt its swing and momentum hastens the inevitable.
I am not ready to give up yet. I hope my body quits altogether before my mind and memory do -- they contain something most precious for me. Irreplaceable.
I am not sure what to make of the present situation, not that I can do anything about it anyway.
Dude, not a day goes by that I do not think of you.
I just reread "Aubade." I had not read it since we talked about it. I had no idea at the time what you meant, but now I certainly do. We touched on it again right before you died, though not in the context of the poem. You were so conflicted and so am I. I guess we spend most of our lives conflicted.
Later.
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