I'm listening to, and I'm thinking about, death. It started off with Sweet Sixteens. I'm trying to remember the last one I went to. They're so stupid, so over-dramatic and frivolous, that I'm glad my birthday passed with a football game and worrying about the turkey getting burned and three glasses of wine. November 25th, Thanksgiving, and I was in love. A month later, I wasn't anymore. We were too fickle, really. So it goes. Funeral are like Sweet Sixteens. Vice versa. Funerals came first. Ritual and cleansing, but funerals are more lasting. I remember the last funeral I went to, and chances are I'll never forget. This all has a form, streamlined theme. I just am too lazy to fight for it at the moment. ---- I've been informed that my new brother's name is Bob. I give him 24 hours, at most.