I'm out of it, man, I admit it. I got down to Texas, out of the mainstream, and without a constant internet connection to count on, I'm missing out on the news. I relied on Trey for my does of NYC insanity, and although I thought he was doing a pretty good job, apparently he failed me.
I just found out about the Great Goose. A couple weeks ago, actually, but I'm just now getting around where there's a bit of internet, so I'm just now gettin gthe chance to offer condolences. And I'm afraid they will be short, mis-spelled, and not nearly enough. But I'm in a public library, and you just don't get the time when there's a line of folks waiting to use the computer behind you.
And when you're sitting around with a bunch of sober folk, in a well-lighted room that smells like books and learning...well, it's just not the right environment to do that gigantic beast justice. I mean, considering who Goose hung out with, you know he probably had a two-pack a day cigarette addiction (and he was getting all his second-hand, too), and probably a closet alcoholic to boot.
So I should be sitting in a smoke-filled room, drunk amongst a group of rowdy obnoxious friends, where we'd be telling stories and forgetting them right in the middle. Or in a bar, passing on the legends of the monstrous cat.
But it doesn't always work like that, does it?