An English In Kentucky



















May 14th 2009

    Death is a function of life.  How it is perceived becomes cultural.  Or in another way, how it is perceived is up to you or I, and the things we think we know.

    I have always enjoyed interpretations of death that regard it as primarily an issue for those who survive.  The idea that there is a place to go that is happier, or perfect, impinges upon grief, because it provides for reunion.  Which makes the circle and has to it a pattern that minds can grasp.  But what happens to the survivor who has no great desire for reunion?

    It is a question that suggests enmity.  Suggests there is no grief on the part of a survivor.  Suggests that amongst the wailing there is one mourner concealing an envy.   Something which is clearly improper.



    My own perfect 'end time' arrangements would be as follows.  I will successfully avoid the medical profession long enough to dig my own grave.  Observing recent practice and tradition the grave will be six foot into the ground.  I will then retire to my bed, and as I die I hope to hear wailing in the Daoist tradition before being carried to the final resting place.

    Then when the shovels are put away, I would like people to eat meat, drink beer and listen to "I wanna be sedated" by the Ramones played so loud that conversation is impossible for a period that should not exceed two hours.  It would be nice, during this two hour period, to have an effigy of me dismembered as a tribute to the Zoroastrians, and this in lieu of the now illegal practice of placing the 'remains' in a tree so that birds of the air might feast upon them.  

   Demanding of me perhaps, but afterwards people can go about their business as they often do knowing that I am perfectly happy.

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