Eeyore City

The Amazing Bob hated July 4th – the fireworks triggered his parting gift from Viet Nam – PTSD. He always spent the day in his study, listening to Louis Armstrong, reading and writing poetry.

Seems appropriate, I suppose, that on this day, four years ago at 6:15 PM, TAB died.

Normally, I get the fuck outta town – chase some distraction action – so I don’t dissolve into sobbing puddles of gloomy melancholia. Last year, Ten and I motored up to Cindy and Giovanni’s magical piece of paradise in upstate Vermont. The previous year, Jen, Oni and I were gallery hopping in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. The first anniversary was spent museuming in the Berkshires.

This year? Ten’s out West and Plague45 makes travel dangerously, stupidly ill-advised. What’s a grieving widow to do? Jen and I drove down to Nantasket where I’d hoped to capture some brill dawn color and light BUT no dice. The day’s weather is mirroring my mood – deeply overcast, a little rainy and grey.

I’ll get through today – I seem to have made a habit of this survival shit.