Zorba the Hutt

Most of the time I'm fine . . . I can function and all, I'm, well, just fine, thanks.

Every once in a while . . . it still hits me. I can remember *everything*. I remember how she looked, I remember exactly how it felt to hug her, I remember her laugh and her eyes . . .

I remember the look she gave me at the hospital . . .

I remember a lot of things I want to remember, just not now. And I remember a lot of things I never want to remember, but know I should.

Things to do when I eventually die, if they're possible:

1) Go back and find out what she really thought about everything, and what was really going through her head. Too too many inconsistencies. And I'm pretty sure that either she's rationalized them to herself at this point, has forgotten them, or wouldn't tell me. Or several of those.
2) Find whoever's responsible for the world working out the way it does and beat him/her up. Stop playing with your giant cow and start paying attention already!

Sheesh. And here I thought that was going to be the last entry of the night - but here I am, just glancing at the beginning of this log of this guy's that I've been reading 'cause it's interesting and he has to deal with morons in his job (he has an acronym, SHAWT, which means something but I can't remember what except it starts with Stupid Human) and he has a cute cat (yes, that's a shoebox, and yes, this cat is significantly larger than a shoebox). So, a quick recount on the line I read and my internal thought processes:

his page: Possibly the full moon/Friday the 13th combo explained today's SHAWT rampage

me: Full moon. Friday the 13th. Why are these connected? Wait. Date. 10-13. This log's in 2000 by now. 10/13/2000. . . . there's a clock program on my computer tuned to count down to that day. That's the first day I went back to visit her. Friday the 13th, on a full moon. Geez . . . some things just never go away, do they?

And they don't.

Someday, perhaps . . .

"Is there a word for that feeling when you're looking back, and it's a mix of, what is it, nostalgia, and that other thing, termites? No, it's something else. Depression. When you remember how something was, and wish it was that way again, but you know it never ever ever never can be again? Is there a word for that?"

(excuse my bad Delirium imitation)