Santa Worm, by Mark Ryden
i want this book
yesterday i had one of the weirdest experiences i've had in a while. i was walking home from broadway, taking pictures on the slr, when i came by a rest in peace type memorial at the corner of the IGA. you know, those things where people leave bouquets of flowers and handwritten notes to whomever died in a car crash in that street corner.
a sign said "we miss you, grace chan". i took a picture and was about to walk away when these people who'd been standing near the corner, a white middle-aged man and a young woman, stopped me and asked, "excuse me, did you know grace chan?" of course i say No, I'm just a student taking pictures, blah blah blah. then he says:
man: i'm grace's husband. (or did he say 'i was'? i can't remember)
me: oh wow.
man: yeah, we thought you'd known her or something.
me: oh, no.
man: it's been very hard the last few days... she was, she was really great.
me: ...... i'm sorry to hear that.
man: yeah, yeah. *SIGH*
me: wow. did you put up those flowers today?
man: yeah, yeah, we did. we miss her a lot.
me: *glances at woman, who smiles* well... i mean, i'm sorry.
man: yeah, yeah. well... thanks
me: thanks... (for what?!)
it was really sad because the woman had died only 2 days earlier (!!!). but the whole time i felt like cracking up because he almost seemed acting-sincere. i was smiling the whole time, for chrissakes, and i have no idea why. he had these dramatic sighs like he didn't know what to do. and what am i supposed to say anyway, to a stranger whose wife just died? i wanted to say, Be Strong, but it seemed way too weird at the moment.
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