Aug. 18th, 2019

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Came back to the Hudson Valley Friday for R&R.

Had great plans for yesterday: I was gonna go on a 10-mile hike! I was gonna generate vast sums of $$$$!

But instead, I curled on up on my bed with Sybyl the cat and watched Seasons 3 and 4 of The Hills, a show whose immense popularity never failed to mystify me back in the day and continues to bewilder me now.

As best as I can extrapolate, Lauren, Heidi, Spencer, and the other “real life” personalities on The Hills are kind of like the Sims made flesh.

I have no idea how I feel except that I’m exhausted. Peevish even. I also feel vaguely guilty because honestly, at this point, if I was alone with Ben in his hospital room for 20 minutes, I’d be tempted to smother him with a pillow. How can he still be alive? He hasn’t had anything to eat or drink in five days now, and he’s not getting IV fluids. This must qualify as some sort of medical miracle although not the type of miracle that anyone would wish for.

He must be hanging on for a reason. But what is that reason?

Is Robin anchoring him here?

Or is it something else?

Could it possibly be Max who is flying in Tuesday? In my last lucid texting exchange with B, I sent him that photo of Max and Mia at the Eveready Diner, and he texted back, I love Max.

Max had been texting with him, too. B actually cried when he told me Max had texted him on Father’s Day.

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know…

I’ve been doing some planning for the celebration of Ben’s life, the huge Irish-style wake, we’re planning for September 2 at Cinemapolis. It feels kinda ghoulish. But if anyone is gonna show up, the notifications have to go out now so people can calendar it in.

Oi!

I’m going back up to Ithaca on Tuesday, and I sincerely hope this is resolved by then! Either Ben spontaneously recovers (and I’m reviewing recruitment materials from the Jehovah’s Witnesses and the Latter Day Saints to prepare for my conversion in that event), or he dies.

Meanwhile, here’s a photo of the 16-year-old Ben. He’d just returned from Guatemala with a suitcase filled with snakes, which he was busily opening on the floor of Lucinda’s house in Rochester.

I like this photo of Ben a lot. His changeling/Orphic ancestry is clearly evident in his face:

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Look how blissful we are here! Two crazy kids in love! Like The Hills theme song sez, The rest is still unwritten.

Ben died at 10:58 this morning.

I don’t know what to feel.

Maybe I’ll just stop feeling.

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