So my friend died today, which was sudden but not unexpected. This sucks, as does cancer. He'd probably be shocked by the number of friends who were anxiously following news of him. As our mutual friend said, "He wouldn't believe how many women are crying over him right now."

We weren't close, but I liked and respected him enormously: he was tremendously supportive of my fledgling attempts to write, and he would suggest offbeat and interesting books to read and got me to read Pynchon with new eyes. He wasn't particularly impressed with himself but did a lot of things very well, had an excellent shit detector but a lot of tolerance as well. Ach, I'll miss you, my dear. Thanks for the friendship and the dog biscuits and turning me onto Jonathan Ames. I'm so sorry you didn't get to live out a long life. It's so unfair.