By the by, I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT.
I never wanted to believe Chuck was gone.
Were there doubters? Yes. People saying he had to be dead because of Kevin? Yes. Did I ever lose hope? Yes. That was about 15 minutes after they said he died. But then I did what I do best: hope, deny, and come up with elaborately unreal ways that what I wanted could have happened.
|Who wants to carve this into the side of a church? No takers? Really?|
I love Chuck. He's so... Chuck. There aren't words. I am nominating him for the role of Patron Saint Of People Who Sit Around In Their Underwear All Day While They Write. As there is a Patron Saint of Bathroom Breaks, I think it's reasonable. As I don't know the pope and am not Catholic, this may take a while. So, if you know the pope and/or are Catholic, drop him an e-mail for me, would ya? Thanks sweets. I might be the only one to ever... What do you even do with saints? Shine the saint signal? Saint dance?
Chuck is fantastic. For many reasons. One of which is that he followed his passion/the voices in his head. Even when the publisher dropped him, he continued.
With some people, they write because they want to. With others *cough* me and Chuck *cough* we write because we need to. It's a need. Not a fleeting desire. I will always write. And so will Chuck. And that is one of the many reason why I love him. Viva la Chuck. See you soon, boo.