It Was a Magic Life. And I Did Not Tire of it.

Belvedere Jehosophat - Wednesday, July 14, 2004 - 23:04:17 - print it raw

The fact of existence weighs heavily on some people, and the inability to come to terms with it can often have fatal consequences.

Take, for instance, a young lady, prodigiously talented and youthful enough to delight in her youth, who, unable to reconcile consciousness with life’s universal demand for somnambulance, decided to take the greatest risk imaginable, that of indulging the sadness that plagued her.

“After all,” she reasoned, “if death is the universal equalizer, then surely being beaten to death at a train station is as valid as dying at 35 with three kids and mounting debts, which, in turn, is as valid as dying at 73, alone and with a leaky heart, which, in turn is as valid as...”

Dark thoughts gave way to dark metaphors – prison cells, candles, raping rape; and, suddenly, life was described with sunken eyes.

Then came the suicide – a death which, ironically, was nothing if not valid; completely valid, though begging the question, “why do we ask questions that have no answers?”

cigarettes and car crashes
are thinning our numbers out

On that note...

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» One of 3 walking defiantly beyond the dead end road

« Whirled by Curses - Cursed by Whirls

The Human Stain

• Backs to the wall, the hungry are fed promises of salvation and enlightenment
• His Hat is a Funny Shape, His Heart is a Brick
• Fumble Out of Bed and Stumble to the Kitchen and Pour Myself a Cup of Ambition and
• Switch Flick Kicks Hick to Bricks
• Of Ugly and Benediction; Ruination on Wax Streets
• A Tale of Three Suburbs; Melancholy on Wax Streets