One Month Since You Died, Mingus

Gorgeous Mingus,

It's flaky here. I'm thinking about how you frolicked in the snow, and how you licked my face when I laid down to make angels in the snow after a big snow fall, and how we went cross country skiing together and you would run up and down the slope making sure I was okay.... remember our trips to Banff?

Can you still remember when you are dead?

Okay, you are haunting me. I'm sorry I said you weren't. I just don't really want to be haunted, like a house that isn't habitable or saleable because it gets locked in an historical event and garners a reputation completely attached to something other people can't cope with... like death....

It's Christmas again--yet it isn't without you.... you know the drill....

Thanks for haunting me; I miss you so.

kisses,
The Bitch

What's It All About?

Dear Mingus,

Are you having an identity crisis like I'm having an identity crisis?

Sometimes I look at your blog to see if I can figure out who I am without you.

I'm being a human. I'm hanging with humans. They talk, remember? A lot. Some bark. They have lots of opinions and say "I" a lot. The ones I'm around are nice ... They "diagnose" like all the others but if you call them on it they mellow out ... or not.... I'm one of them, remember?

Have you figured out this time continuum thing? What's the essence of where and what you are when you're alive, and then when you are dead? Besides all the MATERIAL BALLAST that humans devise to anchor themselves in "life" and attempt to make a dint in the erosive nature of time, what's the gist of the whole thing?

That thing that supports "the human enterprise"--the economy--is broken here. So far it is still free to go for walks though. Can you join me for one my sweet heart-breaker?

Your truelove,
Christine