II.

I am fascinated by them.

(first) walking into the sea. how does that work? I thought you’d have to put weights in your clothes, but at Far Rockaway swimming out deep enough without resistance is enough, it seems. people die there every year. any number of people I know romance the sea. this might seem like a beautiful way to die to them. to me? I just wonder, as I always do, did he wish, when the waves were pulling him under, that he could turn back?

(second) something about her feels familiar to me. I never knew her and have no right to speculate about similarity to someone I can’t pretend to begin to identify with. but that desire to have one’s life tell a certain story, to mean something larger in the world… and the way you fight to make it so.

(third) in fact it feels shameful to be so fascinated by someone’s death like this.

(fourth) last night, after reading this article, I dreamed of her. she’d turned my students’ robotics project into an art piece, with them. I woke up at 1:03 and again at 1:44 and again and again, overwhelmed by this thing they’d created and unable to figure it out. I was grateful for her help and relieved when I saw it wasn’t morning yet.

(fifth) not going to your own party, just looking down from above.

(sixth) there are these modern relationships we have that are real – because it’s all real – but not physical. if you die, or they die, do you just disappear, do they? she left two blog posts scheduled for after her death. a tribute piece was published by a friend on her blog. the blog: like a stage, a diary, a side of yourself, a memoir, a phone call. what becomes of it all?

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