outsdr | Sunday

Ok, so I'm desperately trying to figure how I'm going to purchase the mobile home I'm living in before it gets sold to someone else and I have to move out after living here for less than a month. And it's not like there's a lot of other rental options, either. And I put in a 36 hour workday earlier after needing to fill in at the hotel overnight while the regular guy was tied up testifying at court. And the furnace doesn't work and the faucet in the tub keeps running and my roomate keeps trying to find pot to by for his sister and the dog is upset that I'm not playing with him enough and I'm tired from working all night and then I find out that Ken Hunt is dead.

No, I obviously haven't communicated with him in a while. We performed together in Albquerque, dated a little bit, had some fun together, always meant to exchange books, and apparently, he died earlier this year. I don't know how or why. But I always thought that he'd just continue to be there, like everyone else in my life.

And two thousand miles away my mother is detertiorating more each year, my father is 60, and I may not even have a home by the end of the week, and I don't know what to think and I don't know where to turn and I don't know what to feel because someone I once spent quality time with who still occupied a designated part of my heart is dead.

No one else is allowed to die.