She's better live

When your best friend texts you from a concert that you need to Google the opener, you find that opener for the morning's dribble. Nepotism be damned.

Yesterday I was going to tell you all the good news: TGB's biopsy came back negative. I didn't cry or get gooey. I just smiled nonchalant AF and was like, cool. 

I skipped the dribble when I saw the sad news.

So many of my friends love Scott and his music. More than a few credit the music of Frightened Rabbit with saving their life.

Music literally saves lives.

Except, it doesn't always.

And it just felt like gloating to feel so ... happy about life when death tapped so many of my loved ones on the shoulder to wake up.

That same best friend sent me a message that she (like me) never really listened to Frightened Rabbit before but, (unlike me) had spent the day listening to them and wished she'd found them sooner.

My first instinct when I read the news was to play Given To Fly and Anytime. I don't really know why, I just know that's where my heart went. I thought about suicide and my dad. I thought about the times I sat there considering it. I thought about my time in an Ohio psych ward after swallowing a bunch of pills. I got smart and crushed them up thinking it would make it easier to absorb, in fact. I thought about all the times I think about getting in my kayak and disappearing into the Gulf.

I get it. I really do.

Don't worry, I only think about doing that if I should ever come up with something terminal.

But I would be disingenuous if I said I never think about it.

And now we're talking about it. Well, you're listening and I am talking.

Thank you for listening.

Titty sprinkles!


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