You should have known when I decided to write about Russian Formalism and theoretical computer science -- that it was a sign there were things that I was furiously trying not to talk about.

I mean, it's August, right? This is the month that reminds me that things fall apart.

Except not this year. This year, things are falling together. And it makes August difficult in a different way, perhaps, and I'm not quite sure what to write about that.

I have all these scraps and snippets, ideas jotted down and scribbled out, half-drafted blog posts. I have a lot of things I want to say, things I should say, things I probably shouldn't. But mostly I have a jumble of fucked-up thoughts and sentiments that make it very difficult to write clearly or write well about the impending date:

 August 29. The five year anniversary of Anthony's death.

I can't believe that it's been five years. "Time flies" is one cliche. "Time heals" is another.

I can't believe how much my life changed, from his cancer diagnosis to his death. I can't believe how much my life has changed since then. I can't believe the trajectory my life is on right now.

I spend my days writing now, which may be part of the reason why I'm having such a hard time extricating the blogging from the dying and the surviving and the thriving, why I've had such a wicked case of writer's block here on this blog during the month of August. I was meant to write, I don't doubt that one bit. And it was Anthony's diagnosis that prompted me to start a blog. It was writing that kept me sane as I chronicled all this. It was writing that helped me sort through my thoughts, my emotions. It was blogging that brought me into online communities that gave -- and still give -- me a ton of support.

I still use writing to work through my ideas, my emotions. And while the perfectionist in me is loathe to publish things that haven't been fully fleshed out, I think today, I will do just that, recognizing that yes, it has been five years and yes, I still find myself thinking abou death and dying without any answers, without much wisdom, without the right words.