Funeral
My friend and boss John's funeral was today. I know that people always say crap like "it was a beautiful service," but this really was. Mostly, I think, because everyone who attended cared about John so much. Awesomeness: John's best friend slapped an Alpha Romeo sticker on his coffin before it was wheeled out.
I bawled through the entire service. I couldn't seem to stop. I was sitting next to Jen, our wonderful admin. She was very sweet to me, but she was prolly wishing she wasn't sitting next to a garden fountain.
After the service I drove around a little (something that usually calms me down) and then headed for the Chapel, one of the coolest bars in Seattle. John's design team was supposed to meet there for drinks and remembrance. It was a few minutes before five, and nobody was there. When I tried the door, it was locked. I burst into tears, and realized at that moment that I wasn't going to make it through any kind of social occasion. And I further realized that if I walked into a bar I was going to drink myself unconscious, which isn't generally a good idea when one is driving. So I just got back in my car and left.
I drove around the city for several hours. I almost stopped at several different friends' houses, but thought better of it. Who wants a blubbering mess in their living room? So I just drove. I must've blown half a tank of gas, but what the fuck.
Eventually I pulled into a movie theater, and watched "Before The Devil Knows You're Dead." I realize that seems like a strange choice for somebody who's already sad. But the things that comfort me don't comfort most anybody else. Like Stanley Lumet films. It was excellent. In some sick way, seeing people who were even more fucked up and hopeless than I am made me feel better. Then I went home.
Daniel had taken the boys to Archie McPhee this afternoon. The dear man bought me a set of zombies, and a set of B-movie victims to go with them. He always knows how to make me feel better.
Okay, I'm home safely. NOW I'm gonna drink myself unconscious.
I bawled through the entire service. I couldn't seem to stop. I was sitting next to Jen, our wonderful admin. She was very sweet to me, but she was prolly wishing she wasn't sitting next to a garden fountain.
After the service I drove around a little (something that usually calms me down) and then headed for the Chapel, one of the coolest bars in Seattle. John's design team was supposed to meet there for drinks and remembrance. It was a few minutes before five, and nobody was there. When I tried the door, it was locked. I burst into tears, and realized at that moment that I wasn't going to make it through any kind of social occasion. And I further realized that if I walked into a bar I was going to drink myself unconscious, which isn't generally a good idea when one is driving. So I just got back in my car and left.
I drove around the city for several hours. I almost stopped at several different friends' houses, but thought better of it. Who wants a blubbering mess in their living room? So I just drove. I must've blown half a tank of gas, but what the fuck.
Eventually I pulled into a movie theater, and watched "Before The Devil Knows You're Dead." I realize that seems like a strange choice for somebody who's already sad. But the things that comfort me don't comfort most anybody else. Like Stanley Lumet films. It was excellent. In some sick way, seeing people who were even more fucked up and hopeless than I am made me feel better. Then I went home.
Daniel had taken the boys to Archie McPhee this afternoon. The dear man bought me a set of zombies, and a set of B-movie victims to go with them. He always knows how to make me feel better.
Okay, I'm home safely. NOW I'm gonna drink myself unconscious.