I decided to kill myself last week. December 11th, 2019. It was a Wednesday. Since I’m writing this now, it’s fairly obvious I didn’t go through with it. Suicide has been on the table since I was a kid.
My cousin, Debbie Duffie, died last Sunday. It was the end of a long battle with leukemia, which, obviously, she lost. The most basic urge at times like these is to write poems and elegies in honor of the departed, or offer up well-worn phrases to the family such as “sorry for your loss”. None of which really help.
A lot of people I know are wringing their hands over the fact that Microsoft is pulling its support for the old stalwart operating system, Windows XP, on April 8th. This is one of the dumbest things Microsoft has ever done. I won’t be upgrading Windows XP. Clearly, this is all about money.
Not long after her death, I found a doodle Mama made in one of her notebooks. I scanned it and made a t-shirt design out of it just because I liked the idea of wearing something that Mama had drawn. But I never added any color to it. It seemed… wrong somehow. But today while looking for other images, I pulled that drawing up. Today, for some reason, I added some color to it.
If you’ve ever had to replace ignition wires on a Land Rover Discovery II, you’re probably already of the opinion that whoever designed the placement of the ignition coils should be dipped in honey and thrown to the bears.
This is the 28th anniversary of the death of my father, Bob Lovelace, who died on September 11th, 1984. Every year I take at least a moment to think of him.
I dreamed of Mama last night. Not in the way I would have liked, though. I’m still hoping to have that dream where I get to sit down and talk to her.
Years before Mama died I’d always said that I couldn’t bear the thought of not having Mama’s biscuits anymore once she was gone. She’d tried to show me once or twice, but Mama hit everything at a run and I never really had a chance to pick it up. I’d hoped to get her to… Continue reading The Ongoing Quest For Mama’s Biscuits
There have been a lot of stories I’ve wanted to tell about Mama that I just haven’t had the strength to approach. But for some reason I feel strongly in my heart today, on this Easter Sunday, that I should mention the ring that Mama was buried with. A lot of people asked me about… Continue reading Mama’s Ring
Mama’s marker was placed on her grave last week. A cousin sent me a photo of it. When I saw his message in my inbox, I knew what it was. I stared at the message header for a long time before I actually opened it. I knew what was waiting for me, and I didn’t… Continue reading A Name Carved Into Stone