I could have written about Dolly Parton yesterday, but I wasn’t feeling well. I could have written about Tim Curry today, had Dolly not died yesterday. I don’t think I’m quite mentally or emotionally capable of processing the idea that we’ve lost both of them in 24 hours. Writing Jolene, all by itself, should have guaranteed Dolly immortality. Portraying Doctor Frank-N-Furter, all by … I’m going to go with themselves, should have guaranteed Tim Curry immortality, and for both of them I mean literal physical immortality, not the idea that people will still be enjoying their work in a hundred years, assuming we’re not all too busy scrabbling through a postapocalyptic, global warming-scarred wasteland.

They both should have had more time, damn it.

I knew immediately what picture of Curry to use, and had to look around for a moment to find that precise image. Dolly was a little more difficult until I decided to see what was out there of her and her goddaughter Miley Cyrus together, and the moment I saw that one … damn. Look at the love in that kid’s eyes. Yeah, yeah, I know, she’s an actress and a performer, blah blah blah, that’s the most genuine look I’ve ever seen on her face before.

(Because I want to hurt myself, I’m listening to Bowie right now.)

I saw a TikTok earlier from a creator I like quite a lot, and her suggestion was that we just need to cancel the rest of this entire week. Nobody goes to work or does anything. We just all need to be done for a few days, instead of doing what we’re all doing right now, which is falling prey to that human need to see everything in threes and wondering what new horror awaits us tomorrow. I’m still not feeling well, although I’m better than yesterday, and I’m going to bed super early again tonight. I cannot wake up to another disaster tomorrow, and I think if I get another text message from my wife during fourth or fifth hour I’m just going to toss my phone and my watch out the window and not read them. My students noticed when I got the text about Curry today. Do you know how strongly you have to react to something to get eighth graders to notice it? I wasn’t even teaching at the time; I must have made a noise or something, because ten seconds after I got the text I had six kids asking me if I was okay.

I’m not. I’m just not, and I need some time before the Next Fucking Thing happens, God damn it.