(2002-08-17 - 11:51 p.m.)
So I'm sitting here. Alone. Again. Have spent most of the day waiting for news. But none has been forthcoming. No news is good news though, right?
And at least I have piles of new music to listen to. Not only have I received new cd's from Mishie, but I have been introduced to new bands by Damodred too, so that's got me shakin' my ass if nothing else.
And I've also done what I do best when I'm not Mr. Happy. (Anyone here remember The Mr. Men?) That's right folks, I went CD shopping! Bought the following:
1) "Time(The Revelator)" by Gillian Welch. 2) "Being There" by Wilco. 3) "The Same Old Blues" by Proud Mary. 4) "Then: The Earlier Years" by They Might Be Giants.
And have also placed an order for the new album by Loaded, "Dark Days." See, told you I do it well. And on top of that, the Season Six Part 2 box set of Buffy is out tomorrow. And then next week we have the new albums from Coldplay and Queens Of The Stone Age, both of which I want. Nay, need. And this is followed in September by the new Ryan Adams album. ARGH! I need more money!
I think I'll quit ranting about music now. What am I doing here?
* * * * *
It's my dad I feel the most sorry for I think. He has to sit and watch, helpless as his own father slowly fades away. I know that death is an inevitable part of life, but I'm not sure that makes it any easier for the living.
I realised a while ago how much some kind of "heaven" had been a part of my concept of death. Then, one night as I lay in bed, it ocurred to me that maybe when you die, that's it. What if, when you go, there is nothing at all. Your conciousness simply ceases to be. You are no longer aware of anything, not even of your former self.
We are so used to knowing of our own existence and the separateness of ourselves as individual entities, that the idea of suddenly ceasing to be fascinates me. In a way, I'll be interested to find out what happens. As someone very special to me wrote just recently: "Why aren't I already dead?"
* * * * *
Harry is now a married man. Here's to you buddy. Sorry I couldn't be there. I love you.
* * * * *
"I've got reservations about so many things / But not about you." ~ Wilco, "Reservations."
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