Robin Williams

Robin Williams is dead, apparently.
I feel a strange sense of floating peripheral loss, as if someone told me that the coast of Africa was blown into the deep ocean by a massive bomb.
I never necessarily wanted to go to the coast of Africa, but I know it exists, and now that it's irretrievably gone, I can NEVER go there, and so a noticeable part of the world that exists inside my head is gone forever.
That is similar to how I feel about the death of RW.
I had a secret dream of meeting him and getting his take and maybe advice on the latest LOZ game. He was famous for liking them.
I'm not going to list his movies.
IMDB, Google, you can look them up.
I liked his style.
I felt sorry for him, because most comedians are miserably depressed in private, for some reason which probably nobody would ever want to try to go into.
I saw him on a sitcom only last week, which was an ok sitcom for America.
They churn out marginally funny stuff like that all the time.
I want to know why he decided to give up at 63? years old.
My uncle was a similar age when he gave up too.
They found him hanging from somewhere, near (or in?) the caravan he lived in.
The funeral was awful.
I never want to hear Johnny Rotten's version of 'My Way' ever again.
Worst funeral song ever.
Bad taste.
The ones who want to die need to consider how much they can ruin the lives of those they leave behind, in small ways.
Some stuff imprints itself in your mind and cannot be washed away.
Lord, how I wanted to see my uncle.
When I finally got to see him after literally decades of separation, he was dead.
He looked like he was merely asleep.
The morticians should've gotten paid a lot for creating that look.
I actually felt nervous, like he would sit up and say, 'Surprise!'
Anyway that was rough.
Suicides often are.
They are SO awkward.
Nobody knows what they are allowed to say, or think.
People kind of mill around and make wry faces and try to make supportive and appropriate comments.
His son was angry. I was disappointed and angry.
I wanted to say, 'What the hell uncle! Why give up now? WHY NOW? It's a weird age to kill yourself at! And what about all of us? You have a quite a few children, and some are still very young! Your poor little girls. They don't know what's going on, or maybe that's just what us adults say about kids because we desperately hope that they don't know. Uncle, I'm mad at you. Everyone's upset. And you don't care, because you can't, because you are GONE.'
How many people would be resurrected by power of the regret and anger of those they left behind?
I wonder.
Guess we will not ever know that answer.
Anyway RW's death successfully ruined my evening.
:(
I'm still trying to deal with it.
It's like the death of Michael Jackson. Argh, the pain.
My childhood! My music!
My memories! My movies...
I wonder if half of these people in the entertainment industry understand how much they affect us all, over the years.
Oddly enough, some people affect me barely at all.
Oh man, when DeForest Kelley died, I cried. Childhood memories again.
Oh dear, my melacholy blues are just welling on up, like a rising flood.
Gotta quit typing, go play video games.
Video games make it all go away.
Yussss.

Ah, footnote: heard he had been diagnosed with Parkinsons. Now I'm not surprised he did that, after all. Still SUCKS though.