A self-indulgent writer needs a dead girlfriend like a rock guitarist needs a heroin habit. Suffice it to say, I had no choice in this and if I did, Robyn would still be alive and her continued existence would still be a thorn in my side.
A self-indulgent writer needs a dead girlfriend like a rock guitarist needs a heroin habit. Suffice it to say, I had no choice in this and if I did, Robyn would still be alive and her continued existence would still be a thorn in my side.
Honestly, I have no idea why Robyn would’ve been invited to the CD release party. Perhaps I’d received an email from somebody like Michael Draga to multiple recipients and used all the addresses to send out an email reminder. It’s hard to say this far down the line.
I give you my continued condolences, of course, but I would also like to remind you to try and enjoy your birthday.
Thanks, bro.
*sighs* The Marilyn Monroesque breathy song I had planned doesn’t seem appropriate anymore. Um, Happy Birthday anyway, darlin.
It does get better… my boyfriend died nine years ago this past October. You don’t forget… but it gets better.