Grave

When I was younger, I obsessed about the Afterlife. What Heaven would be, or Hell, or Limbo, since the idea of living in God's face and singing His praises for Eternity sounded like Hell to me. It was a theme I imagined and reimagined constantly. Likewise my own funeral, as a young person dead and all the bullies and awful father stricken with grief and regret...

I have to think this was a combination of Catholicism and my father working at the cemetery. (He was a groundskeeper, and lucky to have a good job after his factory shut down. Brought home day-old roses all the time.) I think it was also an escape.

The natural morbid romanticism of young people as well.


I hope no one wants a funeral for me, really. Dispose of my remains in the most ecological and inexpensive manner, given that the army will be doing it, I won't really have a choice. And hopefully no one will be left to care much. Let me be the last, and unlamented. Let everything we own go to an estate sale, and the proceeds to the kids of friends, maybe one of Dylan's brothers too. It worries me slightly that this house is a real asset, largely due to the house bubble and local gentrification. So, making a will eventually is looking necessary.

If there is anyone grieving, I hope they can find a group to sing Sacred Harp. Or a bagpiper to play Lady of Spain with an accordionist who will play Scotland the Brave. Possibly at the SAME TIME! Or just the entirety of the They Might Be Giants discography. No, wait, that would take days, longer than sitting shiva. As long as it's not christian, what do I care? I'll be dead. I'd just like to think I was funny, and could still make people laugh. Just don't let the god-botherers* get me.

This is all why I have no interest in The Good Place. I've already worked through my issues on this. I merely want oblivion. Not even nirvana, although they may be the same things. I get why people are into it, I just don't care anymore.

Not unlike the gender awareness going on. I respect it all, and do my damnedest to meet people where they are. While I feel free of my sexuality, genderless, outside the duality. I've always been a bit indifferent and non-conformist. Genitally female, mostly only attracted to men, hating most of the gender roles, but not indiscriminately. Menopause has settled me further to the middle, asexual, non-binary, and it's largely irrelevant.





These seem unconnected, but the sense of going to a bad place or a good place, or being one thing or the other, have settled into a wholeness. I seek beauty, kindness, acceptance, and try to pour the same out on those around me. I protect myself from harm and harmful people, and try to extend that to anyone needing reinforcement.

Broke a pretty little bowl while putting it away today. My Derecho arm is still not wired up properly. I do keep flipping things without consent of my brain. The shards are on Moby's grave now.

Yeah, I'm still grieving. It's been a bugger of a year.


Moment of insight: I estranged myself from my parents long ago. They threatened to "disown" or there were stories of "disownment" threading through my childhood. And I realized now, no. I've Disowned Them.

It's linguistic acrobatics, but it strikes a chord. Ever seen The Quiet Man?


Tolerance for the tolerant. Reason for the reasonable.

*I just got the "dogbotherer" joke from Night Watch, as the insult to Vetinari from Downey, in the Assassins School. God=Dog. Ugh.