Returned late Sunday. GK's funeral was dire, almost repugnant. After the service I felt as if I'd been throttled... Can't imagine a family less in tune with the life of one of their own.
We (Gerard's muzak-world friends, that is) decided to cobble together an emergency wake and soon began waterboarding sorrows. Lots of booze, tears, absurd anecdotes. I wanted to jump into the pool, especially seeing as it had long been drained, but the grim pall held me in thrall. More shots of tequila, more blather about the dead.
Churchill's was kind enough to open a tab in Gerard's honor. Those of us who made the half-sloshed trek from Kendall to Little Haiti comprised what was likely the least-appropriately attired mob in the club's long history. (Unless one discounts the semi-regular parade of UM Two-Tone clones and Rat's Blues Brothers tribute projects.) Afterwards, Melissa Amodeo, Dan Hosker, Lauren Uszko and I decamped to Lauren's mom's spread in Lauderdale. Finally went to bed at 6 AM, woke up at 2:30 PM. First time any of us had slept well since GK's suicide.
I didn't remove my mourning clothes for 48 hours. None of us felt like changing... But, finally, we agreed to let GK go. He hated that tie of mine anyway.
Spoke frequently with Paige Flash and Elyse Perez throughout the week. (Paige and I talked for four hours alone on Wednesday...) Incalculable sadness. Elyse, Mel, and Paige - the Squelcher gals I met in one wet, horny cluster in 2000 - were gutted by GK's death. (I lost it before the service myself... One look at the memorial photo board and I was a goner.)
Nandor Nevai arrived Friday evening. Great to see him again. He's looking much healthier... His Klauder stories were priceless. Too many metal vocalist references for the assembled mourners, but otherwise, spot on.
It took me ten hours to drive the 490 miles to Valdosta.
No pix, and that's just as well.