About Right…
Via Sullivan…
It came to me the other day:
Were I to die, no one would say,
“Oh, what a shame! So young, so full
Of promise — depths unplumbable!”Instead, a shrug and tearless eyes
Will greet my overdue demise;
The wide response will be, I know,
“I thought he died a while ago.”For life’s a shabby subterfuge,
And death is real, and dark, and huge.
The shock of it will register
Nowhere but where it will occur.
He called it a poem for Sunday. I’d say it makes a good Valentine’s Day poem. Or an any day poem at this stage of my life. Being as I am, at that age where death isn’t totally unexpected…
"I thought he died a while ago…"
I hate this time of year. Not only is it dark and cold and covered with ice, la, la, la, la, la…it’s that Most Romantic Day Of The Year! !!!
Er…wait a minute… Maybe there’s a connection…
February 1st, 2009 at 11:14 pm
Jeeebuzz….I can be pretty morbid, melancholy, morose and depressed, but at least for me, misery loves company
so I can crank up my guitar amp and make an entire club miserable!
Theres some old Ninja, or Confucius saying "If you are prepared to die, you can do anything".
So don’t worry about catching VD (Valentines Day….it IS a sexually motivated…uh, I mean transmitted disease)
Try this (Not just on Valentines day) Make a disguise, a costume. Something realistic like a vapid shallow yuppie or sweater-queen
And assume the identity of a superficial narcissistic (And by definition and literary sense, you ARE a narcissist!)
Really get into this charactor, almost like a drag-queen who is really serious about her trip. (Maybe try that too!?) then go out on the town
to the bars or clubs or places where the guys hang out. Forget that you are role-playing and BECOME that charactor,
no need to be a complete jerk, just ACT (and BE) that smooth-talking hipster dude. Mingle and swingle, and
BE this person you are dressed like. Kinda like Halloween. THAT person is fearless and out-going. And when
he is talking to the new acquaintances (Will Rogers said: " A stranger is just a friend I haven’t met yet") and they talk about
some hipster pop-culture things or something he isn’t hip to, he says things like "Wow, I must be behind the curve
on that, tell me what that’s about?" (Even on some things you might be well versed and aware of)
The idea isn’t to get laid, and it isn’t to meet your soul mate , the idea is to be this different person, maybe
this idealized vision you might have of what suave cosmopolitan slickers are like. Stay in charactor, even if
the whole scene in the play is having a train-wreck. It’s fun, and kind of a thrill. And because you are in
costume, disguised, who cares what your charactor does? Make an ass of himself? GREAT! Eventually you make
your way home and put that charactor in the closet, and the next day, no one knows it was you. (And really,
regardless of what WE think….people don’t notice or remember things from the night before, even if they
were not drunk)
And IF, by chance you meet up with someone and decide to take things a bit further, you can either stay
in that character, OR take the mask off and tell them you’ve been playing this role, and you’d dig it if things
might develop further, even just for fun.
Deceptive and fake? Yup! So are so many of the people out on the scene….the difference being that THOSE
people have been doing it so long they don’t know who they are! OR, they are doing the exact same thing
that you are doing. Nobodies feelings get hurt….because they are that characters feelings, not yours.
Just fucking DO IT!
Or get to a hypnotherapist and tell them you want to be hypnotized into not being so shy and self-concious
and that you want a post-hypnotic suggestion that will make you go out and buy a pair of leather pants, and
WEAR them.
Seriously, you are on your death-bed, about to roll into your grave, so it is time to give the world the new
flip-off bird, instead of the middle finger, flip the ring finger, and play the practical joke, even on yourself.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
O not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.