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Got back into 'Burque tonight. Spent the last two days at Elephant Butte. It didn't really hit me until just now; the last days have been surreal. Even though my good friend and sailor drowned Saturday, I was able to calmly load my jeep and drive out to New Mexico. I was fine for talking to other friends and people at the lake. Everything down there was so composed, almost even casual, that the events never registered.

 I don't know why, but it seems like they just don't get it. The man fucking died. He's dead. People were not taking it seriously, including myself. It felt like the only way to cope was to act as if nothing to serious happened. I don't want to blame people for that, they need to do something.

I've known this man for years. He's a devoted sailor, always ready to crew and game for just about any weather. He persevered through years of fixing his boat. The changing seasons may have started to weigh on him, but he's just gone in an instant, off the boat and sinking down into the cold, murky green lake.



I'll be back, and I'll dedicate every white russian I pour to my determined friend.