Tom Matrullo is Jeneanes Morbid Ally

And Jeneane is Mine

I've been thinking too, Jeneane. I've been thinking about the notion that one day, one of the sterling people I've "met" on this blog, and all the other blogs that it, and you, have introduced me to, will die.

I think of Marek J's grief over the death of David Pearl and I think:

What will I say?

How will I feel?

Who will it be?

Will it be me?

I think, will I hate you in that moment? even though I know I'll love you too, for the same reasons I already do.

I just don't know. Doubtless people possessed of greater insight and poetry than I have written far more worthy essays on the mortal perils of a heart that is open to love. Far be it from me to attempt it here and now.

Even so, thanks for inviting me into this brave new world. This is a new world. A new opportunity for a new beginning. A new frontier as real and as beguiling and unexplored as ever the far American shores were. Moreso. The chance to create something new. A continuing experiment in micro markets as conversations between real people.

And real people die.

Dammit.


And you may find yourself - living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself - behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself - with a beautiful house, and a beautiful wife
And you may ask yourself - well, how did I get here?
- Burning Down The House, from the album Speaking In Tongues, by Talking Heads.