So, I'm listening to the Beastie Boys, contemplating Spring. So much to do, such a huge soul to put to rest. I sit with the ashes of my love, the last earthly remebrance. It weighs a metric ton. I want to dissolve myself of the physicallity of it all. People ask for "closure". How neat to put it all in a bag, call it a name, and move on. There is no closure. A beautiful person was ripped away from me, my family, and my friends. There shall be no "closure" on my part. It will always remain a proof that there is no god, nor moral proving ground for random injustices. Read your Nietsche, and your Kierkegaard. They new best where our soul ends and wishful thinking begins.