Sitting in my bedroom, alone and afraid on a Friday Nite and thinking of what makes Ian Curtis my hero...

Two reasons:

First, there was the suicide of Fumiya Liquide, who hanged himself like he always said he would. He dragged a huge block of ice into his Brooklyn loft and stood upon it in his old soccer cleats, slipping his head into the noose at the end of the rope that was tied to the steel ceiling rafters. It was a cool April morning: the police estimate that it took well over five hours for a sufficient amount of ice to melt away. There was an empty bourbon bottle on the kitchen table and a nearly full pack of cigarettes floating in the gigantic puddle on the floor. He must have tried to fish them out of his pocket, a difficult task when one is drunk and sliding along a block of ice with one's hands tied behind the back. Even if he had managed to get a smoke to his mouth, it would have been impossible to light.

In case there was any doubt as to his inspiration, Joy Division's Closer played on repeat on Fumiya's stereo. The canvases upon which he'd painted portraits of Ian Curtis were positioned around the block of ice.

The other reason is the word "again" in the chorus of "Love Will Tear Us Apart":
...when love, love will tear us apart...again
I'm making a list of my heros, living and dead. Raymi's near the top. She's alive. So is Shepard Fairey. Thank-you.

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