By the way...I'm well aware that I'm completely avoiding the topic of my father's death. Why? Because....blech. Seriously. I have a lot of processing to do...blah, blah, blah.
I think it'll just leak out, like oil from the underbelly of a 1963 Volvo left too long in the long grass.
Slow, is what I'm saying here, folks. Sloooooow.
I just paused at the keyboard for, like, three minutes, staring off into space, thinking I had something very clever to say here. I do not.
I am stalling because I know when I go downstairs I'm just going to play Grand Theft Auto 3, San Andreas and then it will be so so so so late. But, I'm not quite ashamed and possibly a little bit proud to say, I love this game. It's grotesque and awful and violent and alarming...and very, very cathartic. You should see me work the nightstick.