No need to pussy-foot around me

So there's a Best and Worst of 2002 thread on the crack bored right now. I posted that the worst of 2002 is Matt. Referring to my brother. I was deliberately short. One person (named Matt) fluffed it. I was kind fo snippy in my reply, and he thought I was offended. I may have given off that impression. I am not.

There's no need to pussy foot around me on this. I am not in denial. Not so sure I want to talk about it with every Tom, Dick and Harry. But I don't need to be handled with kid gloves. Mostly, if I am irritable and sensitive, I will take myself out of public interaction (much as I left early from the Merc tonight). Occasionally I won't sense it about myself in time and get snappy with random people. But I am fully aware I am irritable, and won't hold it against you. Not long term anyway.

Neil Gaiman, American Gods

Just finished American Gods by Neil Gaiman. I've also read Stardust and I have Neverwhere, but I've never been able to get into it.

American Gods is the story of Shadow, who is released from prison at the start of the book only to find out his wife has been killed in flagrante delicto with his best friend in a car accident. Soon, he is hired by Mr. Wednesday to be his all around gofer and driver. It seems Mr. Wednesday is starting a war between the gods of the old world, stuck in America, and the new gods of television, technology, fame, and fortune. The old gods feel threatened and are quickly fading, as no one reveres them anymore. Wednesday wants them to go out in a blaze of glory, rather than fade away. Shadow is his weapon.

Most of the story is Shadow following Wednesday around, meeting all sorts of gods. Frankly, I wish Gaiman hadn't written this as a litany of gods. Much of the writing doesn't really advance the story much. It's more a catalog of gods. By the time I got the the climactic battle, I was thoroughly disappointed. Because it is so thoroughly anti-climactic. Shadow knows what going on, but unless I am a genius, which I am not, I was clueless. Plus then Shadow gets into his own episode of symbolic mysticism, which left me wondering what it was symbolic of.

However, the epilogue, which is a formidable amount of pages after the climactic battle, made me like the story again. Especially the confrontations with Hinzelman and Czernebog.

The big scavenger hunt

After I die, I want my body dismembered and scattered across the world. My will will specify that the first person who locates all my body parts gets my money. It will be a scavenger hunt.

Hell, it could be the newest reality show on Fox!

Visit to the grave

I took a set of Lou Gehrig baseball cards to Matt's grave today. First time there since he was buried. I hadn't seen the plaque yet. My grandparents had left some evergreen branches there, and either Elaine or Joe had left some branches and a Christmas card.

Deborah went with me. I don't think I could have done it without her there. As it was, I bawled. The two people who have died that I was closest two are buried within 5 feet of each other. My great grandmother Othelia, Momommy to us, is buried a step away from Matt.

Christmas sucks.