words, pictures and ideas that don't fit anywhere else in my embarrassingly extensive internet life
After the funeral—where I’d sat near the casket, in the area reserved for close family—I came home to New York, to grieve in a vacuum. No one here knew him. They only knew my mixed stories. I didn’t know how much I was allowed to mourn for someone who hadn’t always been good to me. I went back to work immediately.
Friends all said I was handling things extremely well.
I wasn’t handling anything.My essay, “Bury the Dead” over at Gawker (via leighstein)
Leigh’s beautiful work.