Saturday, August 7, 2010
Don't Answer The Door
i'm drab in the morning as i drink my coffee. it's not outside and i want to go out, but i want someone to go out with me. it's too early and i wont even leave to get the newspaper. not yet. it's a game of cat and mouse between myself and the paper. it tormenting me, and i toying with it. my sly and flirtatious looks out the window yield me nothing though. at the wake of the day i settle in like i'm going to bed. backwards motions and death defying thought bring me to the foyer and walk me out the door.
how many people will come to my funeral. if i died this morning. 75? 125? am i being modest. or maybe too optimistic. i'd like to see the demographics, some real breakdowns. for instance, how many: people who should have passed before me, siblings of actual friends, people who were inconvenienced, teachers, people who actually liked me, people i didn't actually like...stuff like that. funerals are funny, most of the guests are probably driven by curiosity, not even pity or sympathy - and that's cool. chances are the dead don't care why you showed up even if you decorate the room with flowers and send food baskets to the immediate family.
well, back to the actual news.