(no subject)

Spent the better part of the day reading Anthony Bourdain stories on Twitter and intermittently crying and begging people to stick around, trying to cheer people up by being silly, telling people I cared about and admired them, and otherwise being a soppy wreck. This was not what I'd intended when I put on fantastic makeup this morning, which in hindsight I should have stopped doing the moment I saw the headline. I guess I thought I'd handle it better than I did.

No.

It feels stupid to be upset, too. I only got interested in him because he was the face-cast for a character a friend made up to interact with one of my characters, but then I found I liked him on his own merits, and. My mind hasn't yet wrapped around it still. So I got nothing done today.

Well, nothing writing done, I got a lot of talking about what various writers have meant to me lately and in the past, and David Bowie, and so some people got told they were valueable and loved and helpful and wonderful. So that's never nothing.

Got some edits done. Got some writing done too, finished the Lifestyles novel. I think. I hope. Wrote up my next assignments on the whiteboard, I really like having that thing. I did not get my school supplies rounded up as I'd hoped to, but that was also mainly to prevent me from stress buying things which I didn't do either. I survived the workday, got things done. I don't know how I'll feel when I wake up tomorrow but I'll have capoeira in the morning, and right now I think I could use the sheer physical exercise to focus my mind some and exhaust me in a less painful way than all the feelings and sorrow of today.

No Hindi; too tired, too drained, too worn, too numb. Hindi maybe tomorrow in with the Japanese.