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The sermon for Apr. 25, 2003 is: aporia 3:12 p.m. I went to Todd's funeral last week. It was sad, of course. They played all these odd songs -- "Rocky Mountain High"? And the most spine-cringing moment was when this amateur soprano from behind a screen sang "Wind Beneath My Wings," or whatever that Whitney Houston song was. I could just hear Todd ripping the cigarette out from his mouth and snorting, Thank god I'm already dead, honey, because this would just kill me. But it was so sad. And he was so young. It makes me afraid to die. I hate being afraid, especially of dying. I think the apprehension of the fear of death is the first sign that you have gotten old. The second sign, I think, would be actually dying. The third sign, I hope, would be a "U-TURN OK" one. There's this incredibly pretty girl right in front of me talking on her cell phone. Everytime I look at her, she's looking at me. And then I look away. I'm afraid to look at her directly. Tie that in with my newfound fear of death. Todd.
 
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