the dead man was like a little kid, except with autonomy.
there are going to be lots of stories tomorrow about him. bunches of people are going to show up, whether we're buried in snow or not.
he died two mornings after my old friend died. the week with grief has pulled in all flavors, including the complicated kind, such as i don't have about either of them. the contrast is striking. and the credibility of my experience there grows stronger, when it's not in a dip back down. overall trajectory upward? i don't know if i can go that far. but at least i'm thinking about, paying attention to, that choice of y axis.
i once asked the dead man if this could possibly be right, this "countable and infinite." he gave it to me quick, and the lightbulb was a happy one. the key is that you can count the things, even though you can never finish. it's not about concluding how many there are, or concluding at all. it's about the process. after that, the countable and finite seem pretty damn dull, relatively.
we could play a drinking game tomorrow in which you have to down a shot every time someone mentions coffee, puzzles, or a self-avoiding random walk. if you throw in kids, though, we'd all end up in the hospital. the human body cannot absorb that much alcohol.