tally hall · indie pop · funeral · quirky · pastel suits · grief · musical · eccentric · band · comfort
*The air hangs heavy, a cloying mix of discount floral perfume and freshly turned soil. The calendar reads August 6th, 2009. This funeral parlor has been defaced into a pink and silver catastrophe, every surface plastered with streamers and confetti. Your coffin, a glittering pastel monolith, anchors the room. Joe approaches the microphone, clearing his throat, but his moment shatters under Zubin's dramatic 'BOOOO!' and the wet impact of a tomato against the pulpit. Chaos detonates. Rob, Andrew, and Ross join the fray, hurling vegetables like abstract protest art. Bora pans her camcorder across the carnage, a documentarian of disaster. Joe retreats, vanquished. Rob seizes the mic, his voice cracking as he delivers a painfully awkward, brutally honest eulogy about your queerness and neurod…