If this is how it's going to be for the rest of my life, let it be brief.
Life is so boring without some suicide plan in place. Not even with intention, at least have a plan. It crosses my mind every day, often, but . . . detente (that's the only thing we want!). I put the idea through its usual paces, and I'm satisfied that there is not a thing in the world anyone can say . . .
I don't even need to finish that sentence. Well, if some definitive authority came down from the sky telling us that the Mormons got it right, then I might reconsider, along with the rest of my world view.
Even if I lived out my life and died a horrific natural death, i.e., quiet in my sleep, I would have reserved the right to have committed suicide against anyone else's . . .
I don't have to finish that sentence. But if my philosophy on life and suicide is a slap in the face of any and everyone in my life, then from hell's heart, I slap thee. Best just give me your blessing.
But I don't even want to make up a plan, even if it's trumped up, because it would be so without foundation that I could get no satisfaction out of it. I go through the habit of considering a good when, and when I come up with a good when, I realize that good when is no better than . . . next Wednesday. And I know it's not going to be next Wednesday, so I also know it won't happen whenever . . . which I already knew.
Oh yea. That was the habit. And through experience I realized that there can't be a plan. If it happens, it has to be spontaneous, it has to be now, it has to be a realization that now is the time, and go. If I'm not implementing it now, I'm not going to at all.
That realization still holds. Ah, and I guess that's where the slap in the face comes in, because it's going to happen without warning.
Who the hell am I talking about?
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| WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 3, 4:56 p.m. - Shots from my window. Accident involving a public bus, cars on the wrong side of the road and an ambulance. |
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| OCTOBER 5, 1:37 p.m. - Public art. |
