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Entry #4,394

Very hot here in the house. When we woke, it was 84˚F inside. Right now, it's cloudy and 86˚F outside. We stuck it out yesterday, because I had to work. But today we're heading to John Hay for a few hours of air conditioning.

Yesterday, I wrote 1,198 words and finished "Dry Bones." It will appear in Sirenia Digest #114 (July '15), with a new Vince Locke illustration. The issue will be a few days late, in order for Vince to have time to do the piece.

August 3rd in the twentieth anniversary of Elizabeth's suicide. And I know it's going to hit me like a pile of bricks. And I know I can't run from it, and I know I can't hide from it. How is that even possible? Twenty years? I only knew her for five and a half years; I've mourned her for two decades.

Aunt Beast


( 5 comments — Have your say! )
Marc D. Goldfinger
Jul. 30th, 2015 05:20 pm (UTC)
Love never dies.
Jul. 30th, 2015 06:44 pm (UTC)
How is that even possible?

I'm not sure there are really words that could describe it. Everyone absorbs things differently. Possibly the fact she didn't die from natural causes. My girlfriend and I have talked about this before because my father died from poor health and I knew the end was approaching whereas her mother was murdered and it was sudden and shocking. I never met her mother but it was my door the police came to and that day is forever ingrained in my memory. Just thinking about it makes my heart quicken.

Knowing the pain it would cause others is what has kept me alive this long.
Jul. 30th, 2015 10:02 pm (UTC)
If one could respectfully play a song from the Sundays on August 3rd, what should it be?
Jul. 30th, 2015 10:12 pm (UTC)

"Wild, Wild Horses."

Edited at 2015-07-30 10:12 pm (UTC)
Jul. 30th, 2015 10:24 pm (UTC)
Thank you. It will be done.
( 5 comments — Have your say! )