Thursday, November 03, 2005

Details, details

There comes a time when you realize that you have to go on with your life.

The moment that you have to go on with your life comes at the instant you first hear someone has died--in this case, the afternoon of September 22, 2005, when my phone rang. But the realization comes later. And with it you begin to see that for most of the last five weeks you've been floating through the hours without any real direction.

In the beginning, the logistics save you. Buy a plane ticket. Make phone calls. Organize something. Is someone bringing food?

Where before I was always thinking: "Okay, I can't do anything, so I might as well write a check and lick a stamp," now, as the news finally sinks in, the details that previously were your salvation from madness become impossible. Who cares if the electric bill lays on the table for three months? Who cares if the phone rings?

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