Wednesday, February 11, 2004

God I must be vastly depressed. I am hopelessly behind in Neil's journal. I go and try and read it and I go to where I left off which is where someone is asking if Neil realizes that Death's appearance in Washington Square park is the same spot where there used to be a Potter's Field and I think about how Danny and I used to hang out in that park and how I kissed him there, and later wrote a poem about it, and how I kissed him in a cemetery in New Jersey and he later died in the same town and I can't bear to read anymore.

I want so badly to think that Death is like Neil's Death, or vorpal, some hot young compassionate entity who takes you by the hand and leads you to whatever is coming next in such a smooth and gentle fashion that you don't quite realize what's happened until you are safely settled in.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home