Family stuff, you know – surreal and wacky and painful and aggravating as shit — are everyone’s relatives as fucked up and crazy as mine?! (rhetorical question). Family stuff.
Death is all around me, it’s all around all of us, as much as life is. I just keep getting caught up in these dumbstruck awestruck moments, and all I can do is cry (like publicly and embarrasingly) with joy. It’s all so beautiful and fleeting, dying as fast as it can be born.