what I'd give to be right here, delighting in a tale you've spun before and has us no less enraptured. you're famous for keeping the light on your guests, but no one on the planet could tell a story like you. I miss it with gripping ferocity.⠀
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for six years you occupied a giant presence in my life; a sliver of your time here, a healthy slice of mine. writing your questions meant trying to slip into your brain until parts of you felt as familiar as myself. I carry a trove of peak experiences for which you are the cause– emmy ceremonies and luminary run-ins and the way it felt to make you laugh.
you’ve been gone a year, and yet I sense you acutely. in my dreams, in the room. in the moments my brain lapses and I forget you aren’t wandering around beverly hills drinking an iced coffee with a staggering mound of splenda in it. grief is an odd beast with its ebb and flow, its unexpected visits. we know it isn’t linear but it feels no less jarring to be swept up in its swift onset. somehow I find myself grateful for it too. if I can reach past the pain, I feel something else– a cleansing, a catharsis, the sense that you’re closer than our earthbound bodies can comprehend.
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