(no subject)

Funerals are just...weird. It's not only a sombre occasion but also a social event. And it feels like I'm trapped in a Dali painting (or Jackson Pollock...can't tell which just yet), all sharp edges and strange blurs. fuzzpsych went to his parents' trailer outside of New Dundee, but right now I'm all socialed out. I need some time to myself to sit and ooze while I decompress. So I think I'll give the Kaiser Chiefs another spin and maybe give the bathroom a scrub. At least the process of making a dirty thing clean still makes sense.

(no subject)

Part of me wants to cry, but I have nothing. My heart hurts, though. An incredible loss like a black hole that sucks everything else in as it grows and threatens to consume all of me. Fuck.