the house insurers want to pull the policy and my sanity is frayed. renovations are nearly three months underway and the end is nowhere in sight. a basement went from being a small reno to a complete strip and rebuild from the foundation up. there are photos, ugly and dark, but they will have to wait for a day when i again have time for such frivolity.

the great man is dead by his own hand. there is sadness and grief. i often don't have much in the way of sympathy for suicides, but hunter is an exception. his wasn't a botched cry for help. he made a decision and followed through with it, whatever his reasons.

in my selfishness i reckon that i'm sick of losing favourite writers. too many of them are disappearing, and it is a reminder of my own aging. fear and loathing is the funniest and most remarkable book i've had the pleasure to read aloud to many good friends. i think we can be consoled by the knowledge that his books will still be in print for a good damned while.

perhaps hunter left this kingdom of fear in search of a new one that isn't expecting a surprise visitor. wherever his molecules have scattered, i'm thankful the world sustained and tolerated the likes of him for as long as it did.