I almost, and I mean almost got to the end of the song I wrote for John’s memorial service (which will be played at the housefilk afterwards, not the memorial, because the memorial is not about me) but I didn’t make it and cried buckets. So did we all, it was pretty drippy.
I have located John’s black silk shirt with neon frogs – there must be a hundred pics of him wearing it at conventions – and Juliana has very sweetly offered to part with it. The dragon I embroidered for him has vanished. I am saddened, but not devastated. I’ll just have to do another one, and better. I am thinking of getting a memorial tattoo for John, but the more I work on the design the more ludicrous it gets. A gryphon – his totem animal, which is perfect, because it’s imaginary – with a guitar slung over its back and a black rose in its mouth? eh. erm.
Home made Chinese food at the House of Tom and Peggy, and Joe ripped cd’s of John’s only extant music – until we find more – and it’s raining and I hate my hormones and I should quit typing and go to sleep. The little girl is resting next to me right now with a quizzical expression. So tired. So wired. So much to do and not much month to do it in.