Thunderbolts and Lightning, Very Very Frightning Me

So as you know, Galileo, my friend Jay Lake died a year ago.

It was not a cool occasion.

In fact, it kind of pissed me off.

So it’s been over a year since I last interacted with Jay. Over a year since I sent him a video of my partner dancing a choreographed piece about how his cancer affected us, and how much we loved him.

Over a year since I dedicated my science fiction novel to him, knowing that he would never read it.

My friend is dead.


Fuck. Cancer.

But on the whole, my life is all right. I’m not dying. I’m doing fine, in fact. But there’s a Jay-shaped hole in my life.

In any other year, I’d be down in Portland, eating pizza and laughing with a blonde fat man.

In any other year, he’d be laughing at me for doing stupid things while drinking away my pain.

Jay is dead, but I am alive. And there’s really only one way to honor his memory.

It goes something like this.

I love you, man.
I love you, man.

End trans.

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