ishyface: (i shall never grow old)
Rest in peace, Sir Terry.
ishyface: (in the dumps)
Alex Fountain, a boy I knew in high school, committed suicide on Saturday. He jumped off a bridge.

He's the second person from my graduating class who's done that. It was the same bridge each time.

Alex was in most of my classes for three years and was the only other person in high school who appreciated Brand New. He played guitar. He did an oral presentation in French on Tell All Your Friends by Taking Back Sunday. He made a special graduation playlist that included Modest Mouse and Sigur Ros because he was sick of everybody playing Vitamin C and "The Sunscreen Song." One of our teachers called him Freddy for a whole semester once. He was partly responsible for this. He wasn't a close friend, but he was a good guy and funny and smart and more passionate about music than most people are about anything. I wish I'd known him better. I guess that's what people always wish when things like this happen.

And he's fucking dead. I'm never going to talk to him again, not even in that "how's life since high school" way.

He made me a mixtape once. I still have it.
ishyface: (in the dumps)
Bettie Page is dead.

:(
ishyface: (Default)
Today was the ninth annual Transgender Day of Remembrance.

Little Sister and I went to a TGDR gathering downtown. It was only a few people, but there was a very solemn viewing of Ma Vie En Rose and coffee and a very interesting discussion about transphobia and gender identity. Mostly it was nice to just be there with other like-minded people, because I've never really gotten the opportunity to observe the day in any significant way and I think it's important. I'm really, really glad that Little Sister was there because I didn't want to be alone tonight, and I'm so fucking impressed that she was so open-minded and mature about the people there and the subjects we discussed. She's a good little sister. :)

I'm going to light a candle before I go to bed.

Remember the dead.
ishyface: (Default)
Heath Ledger has been found dead.

Maybe... maybe he had an evil identical twin, and that's the one they found? And the real Heath is just chilling in a hot tub somewhere with Joseph Gordon-Levitt and David Krumholtz?
ishyface: (every goddamn thing)
Every story brings the imagination and reality together in moments of what we might as well call faith. Stories give us a way to wonder how totalitarian states arise, or why cancer cells behave the way they do, or what causes people to live in the streets... and then come back again in a circle to the wonder of a song... or a supernova... or DNA. Wonder and wondering are closely related, and stories teach us that we cannot chose between them. If we try, we end up with the kind of amazement that is satisfied with the first explanation, or the kind of curiousity that is incapable of genuine surprise. Stories make the world more real, more rational, by bringing us closer to the irrational mystery at its centre. Why did my friend get sick and die? Why is there so much suffering in the world? Whose land is this we live on? How much is enough?

And where is home?

- If This Is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories?, by J. Edward Chamberlin

Madeleine L'Engle died.

\D:/
ishyface: (one red post-it)
Two new things I've experienced today:

1) How it feels to touch a dead turtle, and

2) How it feels to get vomit in the eye.

I can only hope this makes me grow as a person.

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