Our hearts with yours and everyone who loved him. Loves him. Recalling some of the blur that comprised a good chunk of my 20s (as another agnostic/atheist raised Catholic so solidarity.) Loathe ‘Church.’ Love church acoustics. Just caught Great Lake Swimmers in a tiny local church here in Halifax last autumn. Brought my teen cuz they were the first band my kid heard as a baby at Guelph’s annual music festival (Hillside.) Looks like a great venue for catching The Mountain Goats. This is beautifully written. So glad you resurrected it, along with these cherished memories of your dear, dear friend. ❤️
"You always shared the details of your sex life as if it was a movie I should watch. And I always judged how fucked up someone needed to be to be with you. Myself included."
really gorgeous. your writing style is raw and packed with small but intricate details, like a pit you pulled out of a stone fruit. I love it.
I'm so sorry for your loss, Christina. Also, that idea of what happens to memories when the only person who might be able to verify that what happened did or didn't is no longer here to confirm or deny. What a thing you have captured here. Thanks for resharing this as I would likely have missed it otherwise.
Our hearts with yours and everyone who loved him. Loves him. Recalling some of the blur that comprised a good chunk of my 20s (as another agnostic/atheist raised Catholic so solidarity.) Loathe ‘Church.’ Love church acoustics. Just caught Great Lake Swimmers in a tiny local church here in Halifax last autumn. Brought my teen cuz they were the first band my kid heard as a baby at Guelph’s annual music festival (Hillside.) Looks like a great venue for catching The Mountain Goats. This is beautifully written. So glad you resurrected it, along with these cherished memories of your dear, dear friend. ❤️
"You always shared the details of your sex life as if it was a movie I should watch. And I always judged how fucked up someone needed to be to be with you. Myself included."
really gorgeous. your writing style is raw and packed with small but intricate details, like a pit you pulled out of a stone fruit. I love it.
I'm so sorry for your loss, Christina. Also, that idea of what happens to memories when the only person who might be able to verify that what happened did or didn't is no longer here to confirm or deny. What a thing you have captured here. Thanks for resharing this as I would likely have missed it otherwise.