(Originally written at my livejournal)
Was it a good idea to see Brokeback Mountain alone this afternoon or not? I kind of think that maybe it would have been smart to have someone to pass me a steady stream of hankies to mop up the steady stream of tears and snot leaking from my face for at least the last half hour of the movie (well, maybe the last forty-five minutes. And maybe some other parts as well). But I also kind of think maybe it was good to see it alone and to let the tears just trickle down and not have to worry about looking like a dork in front of anyone. I came home after the movie and before going out to dinner with a friend, even though the friend I was having dinner with lives two blocks from the movie theater, because I just had to sit on my bed and sob for a minute. I sat in our newly painted kitchen with Treasa and I couldn’t even tell her how I’d liked it without having to look up at the ceiling and take a deep breath and make a squinchy cry face.
Love makes you crazy and death is sad. We all know this, right? I guess I know it but I knew it all over again this afternoon. Love makes you crazy and death is sad, all the time, every time.