RIP Heath Ledger

Heath Ledger is dead.

I am still, 8 hours after first seeing the news on cnn.com, in shock.

I can't really explain why this has affected me so much, but I have been a mess all night. Is it Brokeback? Is it the tiny crush I've harbored since A Knight's Tale? Or is it just the overwhelming sense of melancholy that seems to have permeated my life? I can't really explain it.

Ledger's performance in Brokeback is one of my all-time favorites ever captured on film. Tony doesn't "get" that. Well, I shouldn't say that. He doesn't "get" the movie's impact ... he's never doubted Ledger's exceptional work. But... it's that performance that seems to haunt me tonight. The character Ledger played, Ennis Del Mar, was a tortured and troubled soul. Was Heath? Is that why he was so able to capture Ennis's pain? When Ennis collapses in the "tunnel" after Jack Twist leaves the first time ... I can so relate to that feeling. I remember the weight I felt when I was parted from my first lover for the very first time. Better yet -- I remember the pall of fear I felt burdened with when I first realized I liked my friend Roger a bit more than I probably should have at age 13. There are so many moments in the movie that touched me immensely. I am, as I said, overwhelmed with grief, disbelief, and dread. I'm not ashamed to admit I've cried numerous times this evening. I find myself putting off sleep. I am bereft. Does that make me silly, seeing as how this was simply an actor, not someone I knew? It's a weird feeling. I hope he is at peace. I hope he knows how much he touched people ... ALL people, not just people in my community. I hope I feel better tomorrow...

Rest in eternal peace, Heath.

What's your flavor?

I think rum is the best tasting alcoholic beverage on the planet. If you challenge me ... I SAY THEE NAY!!!

I have developed, over the past few months, a very distinct pattern of behavior. I will cringe and moan and gnash my remaining solvent teeth and gripe about work ... and then I'll come home and drink. Copiously. Anyone who knows me can attest to my love of all things rum.

I am growing scared.
Am I simply repeating/replicating the pattern with with I grew up? Wasn't Dad "three sheets to the wind" by the time he arrived home each night from the factory? What is wrong with me? I swore I wouldn't become my father. I took oaths.

Then, reaching adulthood and realizing the searing humanity displayed by my kick-ass Dad throughout amazingly turbulent times, I decided being like Dad wasn't so fucking bad.

The drinking, however ... not the smartest choice.
I fear I am becoming powerless. I fear my actions should I not end each night with a lil nip.

If nothing else, I am resilient. This, too, shall pass.

Bring on the hooch, muthafuckas!!!

I erased all your old voicemails...

There's a change coming. It's a ship. It's sailing. The course? Unknown. Is it going forward? A distinct possibility. Is it sinking? Sometimes, the most logical assumption. It is treading water? The unfortunate truth. Hang on. The ride will be bumpy ... turbulent ... fraught with uncertainty and disdain ... but it might just rejuvenate your spirit.

I hate trying to be both philosophical and fatalistic. May I have the rum, please?