I was sad only for his murder when it happened. Today, I feel a far greater loss for the man who gave us such a beautiful song. It speaks volumes and it is so pleasing to listen to.
I have requested that it be played at any memorial service for me.
I just hope that isn't too soon. My head is more awful than it has ever been. If that is true why do you still walk the Earth, says the skeptic. Well, you see, I have been up since 3:30 am with no hope for sleep until this calms a bit. It has barely backed off in the past two weeks. It does what it always does and morphs into something tolerable, as long as I can sleep. It eats at my brain as surely some disease would though, once again, it lets me tolerate. Perhaps it is a creature who loves to torment but not kill. That could be.
All I know is that it is miserable. If I stay active mentally I can get by. The problem seems to truly be sensitivity to sound. I tolerate less volume than ever before. The shrieking I now have is such a high frequency I keep hoping, as I have done for over a decade, that it will get to such a high frequency that I cannot hear it. Of course then I will just feel like crap and not know why.
I cannot tell Judy because Peter and the Wolf, my version of it, will come to the fore. I have tried to keep my mouth shut but she has to be so tired of any expression of discomfort that should I say something now, she would be annoyed. I will be on my deathbed and she will be annoyed at any deep sigh, let alone a complaint.
She is the woman whom has never, not once, zilch, nada, zippo, asked me how my ears are. You may think me kidding but I swear on my mother's grave, this is so. She must care some but I will never have the luxury of knowing.
I am tired of being a miserable whiner, but you dear Spudnuts are a lifesaver. You give me love and caring in my life aside from the home and that makes so much difference. It is only an emotional bond but that is enough to change many of my thoughts from shit to Shinola.
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