Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Discordian Grief Ritual Discovered

Now that it is too late, I went to the RAW site and took down his mailing address. It helped release a remarkable flood of tears for a man I never met. I mean, I knew I felt terrible about us having to lose him. I did NOT suspect I felt terrible enough to have to stifle my sobs in my cubicle, hoping the people around me wouldn't come and ask what was wrong with me. I've only been here a month for Scrod sake. There's only so much I want to reveal this early on, if you can dig it.

Writing down his address in my book -- in ink -- captures a tiny bit of the profound mistake I made every time I failed to set time aside to go to one of his lectures, or didn't get around to picking up one of his books -- money that would have helped support him in his last crisis. I could have met him in person half a dozen times, easily, but did I do it? I treated him as if he were immortal, and now look.

From now on I will think of this Discordian grief ritual as Opening The Barn Door, Except The Horse Went To The Glue Factory Last Week.


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