GRIEF covers me like a blanket
I launched this blog in Jan 2008 , months after the sudden death of my friend Michael Z. For weeks I was feeling so awful that I hadn't been there for him or around after he died -- until he came to me in a dream and told me to get over it. He even laughed at me. Fucker. Even in death he was spot on and sometimes a dick. This week another train hit me. So hard I'm in pieces. G is gone. I got the call on a Thursday afternoon. Victim of a homicide, those words keep ringing in my ears. It's been a week and I've been crying every day. Multiple times a day. I'm devastated. Heartbroken. Crushed. Shocked, and utterly confused. What? How? Why?? I met G, aka the Janitor, in 1999 or so. He took me shopping for my first mp3 player at the now-shuttered Circuit City. I nursed him while he struggled with an ulcer and had to hide the coffee from him when he kept insisting that it didn't bother his stomach. I called in a favor with an old gambling buddy and got a bunch