Thank you to everyone who stopped by and wished me well during my recent convalescence. I really appreciate it. Part of my recovery involved Whitney. I wasn’t going to be found dead stretched across a filthy bed looking like a wraith. I had to fight it for Whitney’s sake. We’ve almost reached full closure. The circle that started in Jersey ends in Jersey today.
Did they really think her funeral through? I don’t think they had time to practice. It needs some direction.
A little more Ooomph.
Some pizazz.
A little Sparkle over here at the Whitney Wake PLEASE!
Whitney is rolling over in her tub right now. Cursing at them. Shouting stage direction in her signature incoherent train of thought babble speak. Choreographing her last show from wherever she is watching her Home Going.
Is it wrong? Or an Omen that I was listening in heavy rotation to a mix tape titled, “Crack is Whack” for a month before she died? I sometimes pretend to portend these things when they happen. I find myself saying things like, “The signs were all there…She had the aura of death surrounding her in the end…So tragic and forseeable”.
In other news I need to drop off my laundry and see what’s going on at the mat.
Then I’m off to the parades.
In the rain.
Where I’m sure to catch my death.
And of course it would have all been so senseless and preventable.
