There is something to think about there – while a lot of my baggage is clearly mine, and I have talked about a lot of it, a lot of the baggage was his, and now I can be rid of it. That’s actually wonderful news! Speaking of, I dreamed of his sister last night, one of them, the craziest one, although I’m pretty sure he’s now holding the title for the psycho of the family.
I wonder if my literary friend looks like Alan Rickman now. It’s been many years, and he did have that potential. He was amazingly gay, in the classiest way possible. Meaning he was brilliant and deserved the highest respect without even considering him as a sexual, or even human, being. And that respect was ironclad and untouchable even if you found him passed out on a trail in the woods covered in nothing but glitter and dirt at 10am on a Tuesday.