What a Rotten Week

Darrell's best friend died last Sunday. He was also a good, dear friend of Theanna's. I knew him, but not well.

Rob was almost 7 feet tall, was battling a weight problem, and like most men of that frame and girth, he had a voice that carried. I'm told that he was a very playful man with a heart as warm as the sun. He must have been an extremely special person because his passing has caused a depth of grief that I have not seen in my friends before.

They used to get together, along with a mutual friend, Ron, Saturday nights to watch movies and eat large flavorful meals that Rob took joy in cooking for them. They called themselves the Saturday Night Supper Club. I attended once and it was a good meal, but through no fault of their own, I felt as if I didn't belong. This was theirs.

Like so many rituals there was a feeling of warm familiarity and absolute trust; everyone knew their part in the evening. It was like a weekly family holiday in a home without baggage.

There's a Rob shaped hole in the world and it will take time to not remember that harsh reality every second of every day, but as time passes the tears will be replaced by smiles and laughter when telling of Rob's life.

Far be it for me to try to put it better than W.H. Auden's poem Funeral Blues, used in Four Weddings and a Funeral for a good reason. However I do disagree, I think love does last forever. I believe that our like kind attractions, go on and on, much like the universe.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, 

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, 

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum 

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead 

Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead. 

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, 

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. 

He was my North, my South, my East and West, 

My working week and my Sunday rest, 

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; 

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. 

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, 

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, 

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods; 

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

See you later, Rob. Next time, I hope to know you better.

RIP

Aw, Soupy Sales died.

My friend, Ade, used to go dancing with him and Artie Johnson at the Copa.

Like You Needed To Know

I'm taking a new medication and one of the side effects is that I pooh so hard that it feels like the anal version of the dry heaves.

But, hey, at least it's not snowing.

Ever Had One of Those Days?

The best laid plans are actually a misunderstanding...

All the energy has been sucked out of your body and replaced with some kind of bitter fluid...

You can't for the life of you remember why you were ever happy...

The one thing that you enjoy, you either can't find, is illegal, or your doctor says you can't have anymore...

Money, as much as you enjoy having it, seems to make every endeavor like climbing Mt. Everest, backward, on fire, in your stocking feet...

All you want to do is to go to bed and hope that tomorrow will be better but they're calling for rain...

You miss far away friends, but they don't miss you...

Or if they do miss you, they are putting on the bravest faces ever and get on with their lives...

Some times, the only thing that makes sense are crackers and cheese...