While I was talking with my aunt on the train platform, I received a call from Carol. She filled me in on the news that James, the costume designer whom I wrote about last week, had died. I was and still am numb about the news. Here was a person that I have never met, never chatted with, never talked to, and yet I am filled with this great sense of loss. Carol and her opera buddies were crushed by the news.
This was such a senseless death! Here was an extremely talented young man in the prime of his career who is now dead because some fuckwad felt like he needed to poison someone to have sex with him. I hope Joe, the evil rat-shit-eating-son-of-a-whore gets a nice prison sentence where he will be raped daily with a mop handle or filled with enough AIDS filled cum that he will die a slow agonizing death.