You probably read all about Theresa Duncan last year when she committed suicide. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you can read the story here and here.
You should watch her charming, short, animated film, The History of Glamour (2000). I find it adorable, and I think of it now and then; especially the part about the band that performs silently, by whispering lyrics in each audience member's ear.
Ms. Duncan's blog, Wit of the Staircase, is still up, and it was haunted for a little while after she died; she scheduled a posthumous entry just before last Halloween and one last New Year's Eve. Is it the only haunted blog? I like dark, spooky, and sad things, so if you happen to know of other posthumous blogs, point me toward them.
She lived, with her boyfriend, in a rectory apartment at St. Mark's Church in the east village. Every time I walk by, I wonder if their home is haunted too.
The last blog post published while she was still alive featured a quote I happen to love, from Reynolds Price:
"A need to tell and hear stories is essential to the species Homo sapiens--second in necessity apparently after nourishment and before love and shelter. Millions survive without love or home, almost none in silence; the opposite of silence leads quickly to narrative, and the sound of story is the dominant sound of our lives, from the small accounts of our day's events to the vast incommunicable constructs of psychopaths."