On Tuesday, 14 March 2017 09:09:29 UTC+10, Eris de Suzerain wrote:
> So it's a last ditch effort, hoping the old duffer isn't dust and that I can find my Cranberry Sauce Bottle because I am saddened that my ex stole his painting from me. I mailed him a voodoo doll for his pocket, and I wanted to make sure the wax hadn't completely melted - also to just assure myself that his selfness was still selfed.
>
> Alas, alack, here we are in the future and it is even worse than I had hoped.
Eris, alas. Cranberry is dead. Into the night of quiet wandering with tears and pantless joyless solitude he went, with cats and and dust and rusting paper notes of empty ideas and dreams gone bad and children grown and life ... and life, lived in the shadow of better selves that never came to be. He left us, on a cloudy when I was thinking other things to be stuffed into a box and turned to ash amongst rage and tears and laughter. I still miss the bastard. he is gone and not even speed dial finds a connection. Fuck.