Death

A writing meditation.

I will cease.  Personal life functions will end.  I will be no more.  No longer.  No mas.  I will be expired, deceased, finished, gone, over, done.  No do-overs.  No second-chances.  Ideally, no regrets.  Inspiration, respiration, perspiration…expiration.   My blog may outlive me.  Some will remember me.  They will all die, too.   I will fade away into obscurity and oblivion.   Always and forever, nihility, dust, scattered to the four winds, forgotten, meaningless, trivial, unimportant, just another bipedal carbon based life form, on planet earth, extinct.   The internet might disappear too.  Nothing lasts forever.  No one lives forever.  Even diamonds aren’t forever.  Impermanence is a universal truth.  Like bubbles.  We’re here, then gone.  Pop! No more living: no more meals, sex, movies, dreaming, books, conversations, blogging, thinking, writing, talking, doing, saying, nothing.  It won’t be black.  My mind won’t be blank.  It won’t even be silent.  I won’t have ears or a brain or eyes.  Worms will eat me.  My corpse will stink, and rot.  Putrefaction and rigor mortis.   I will be a cadaver.  My body will merge with the soil.  I will become plant food, nutrients.  My flesh and blood will probably be in a coffin, under a gravestone, in a cemetary, wherever I choose.   I haven’t made out a will.  The Davis cemetery is peaceful.  I also like the Roseville cemetery.   All cemeteries will be (non-) experienced the same.  It doesn’t matter.  Let the dead bury the dead.  I won’t worry a whit.   I might like to craft a witty epitaph.  Like spraypaint or tagging or graffiti.   Every book in the library is an epitaph, when you think about it.  Defunct.  Destroyed.   Disintegrated.  Dust and dirt and decay.   Demolished and devoured by time.  Just a dream, god’s dream, a self-hallucination.   No enduring soul or atman or essence or anything.  Just one with the universe, for eternity, like you were before you were conceived, already.  Mindless.   Thoughtless.  Vacant.  Infinity, mortality, nihility, nothingness, nonexistence, nonbeing, unbeing, absence, void, zero, zilch, bupkis.  Nothing, nothing at all.   Nullibiety.  A skeleton, just bones, and eventually, not even that.  A loss of life, soul, vida loca, animation, spirit, verve, vitality.   The life in my gut will also die.  All life dies.  We’re all in the same boat.  You don’t have to grok infinity, or the ungrokkable, you just have to know that you won’t wake up.  Abandon hope.  Immortality is hopeless.  A pipe dream.  Up in smoke.  Death is personified as the Grim Reaper.   Time reaps all.  Your number will come up.  You can live in any way you choose.   Oblivion grants license.  Death bequeaths freedom.  In your mind, you are yourself, no matter what you do, no matter what the consequences, all things are permitted.  It all comes to the same thing.  Poof!  Presto, you’re disappeared.  Sturm und drang, shout, make some noise, wave your arms around, get busy, do your bucket list, live!  You only get one life.   Well, you can wake up tomorrow refreshed, and consider yourself “born again” but you know what I mean.  After 100 and some odd years, all that cellular replication will catch up with you.  Destiny, fate, unavoidable, unpreventable, ineluctable, unstoppable.  Do what thou wilt.  Make the world a better place.   It’s already pretty damned good, if you ask me.  But take a moment and give yourself agency and control over what you want to do with this limited time you’re given, so to speak.   A legacy, a memory.   Like throwing a stone in a lake, making waves, rippling outward, sinking down to the murky depths.  Death, depth, meth, debt, beth, Seth, opeth, breath, weather, leather, heather, oh brother.   D eat H.   Smile, eat forever!   Worm food.  Maggots.  Flies.  Plant food.  Nutrient cycle.  Ecology.  Becoming a part of mother earth.  The grave, the hole, the mouth, swallowing you up.  We just basically move around our entire lives, talking and walking stones.   Death isn’t as big a transition as you think!  We’re already living things, and things are dead as a doornail.  Dead dad.  Did Dodd dud? Dude died.  Miami-Dade.   Deeds and dirty deeds, dirty mind, dirty socks, dirty dirt.   The dirt on darth.  Siddartha says, the buddha says, open your eyes, and look within.   Look without.   See what you will be without eyes.   Without anything, no possessions, not even a body.  Human words and brains allow us to contemplate our futures, the universe, eternity, destiny.  Enjoy life.  Enjoy death.   Enjoy dying.  I mean, you can’t fight it.  So go with the flow.  Om.  Be one with the stream of consciousness, mindstream, emptiness, no-self, hourglass, bubbles, cut flowers, waking up, one day closer to death.   So make life fun, right?  Don’t be a dick!

LSD:  Late!  don't be late.  a Stiff drink.  Death by chocolate (for a diabetic).   "An ex-parrot!"  (post-human!  afterburner, después despair), Manute Bol, hardly minute, played ball, minute balls, BOL : bereft of life, spirits (drinking the dead?), alcohol, I'll kill, haul into the alcove, alpo in the hall, drinking a Sol beer (soul?), drinking the scotch?, drinking a bier?,  red wine as blood, sangria as sangre, vampire brand wine, bloody mary, death breath, kiss of death, (blood) red lipstick, the fang thang, reality bites.  death has eat in it.  (Death, hated, d heat, the ad, T head) G-D, God, getting drunk (blood of christ, ichor, icky)