Heath Ledger dead at twenty-eight.

I know this isn't the sort of story that should really rattle my nerves, but...Jesus. Twenty-eight? And Christ, what was he doing? Drug overdose?

I still have a poster of Brokeback Mountain on my bedroom wall.

God, I spent all that time obsessing over Brokeback Mountain, and admiring him and Jake Gyllenhaal, and wishing that I could meet them and thank them for affecting me so much, and now this happens. My stomach gave an odd lurch when I saw the headline and it still feels incredibly weird. He's got a little daughter, as well; she's two years old, poor thing.

(I shouldn't be affected by this, I know, I'm not one for obsessing over celebrity deaths, but that film and its cast was so ingrained in my consciousness that I've never really forgotten it. If I look back over the blog I'll find dozens of references to him.)

I'd better go to bed.