You get one life. Because of inauspicious planetary conditions hurried along by over-use of petroleum products, a portion of the populated world is suffering drought and is on the move, displacing other people and pissing them off mightily. Belief in the hereafter surges because the hereandnow sucks. You get one life, though: the hereandnow. I question the idea of good guys, bad guys for that matter. We're not looking at it right: a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do and man is a soul stuck in an organic body with appetites which need slaking then governing to coexist with other organic bodies with appetites and sometimes that calls for the displacement of .... certain organic bodies. You get one life, though, both the displacer and the displacee feel strongly about that. Unless you find some meaning in death, which I never have. The best face you can put on it is that your organic matter decayed might feed other organic matter and provide a home for other souls, human or not. The older I get the more I feel my own death will be a damned shame, just because I know certain things that will die with me. Because both the beauty and the horror I have seen with these two eyes will die with me. The sounds. The passion. The great cooking. All the things my soul experienced through my body. Kaputski. All this is coming to mind because I'm editing a manuscript now which Blue Heron Book Works will publish this spring: "Man has Premonition of Own Death" by Nicholas DiGiovanni. He talks about death which is actually a way of talking about life, with warmth and humor and humanity. But don't take my word for it. I'll keep you posted.
You get one life. Because of inauspicious planetary conditions hurried along by over-use of petroleum products, a portion of the populated world is suffering drought and is on the move, displacing other people and pissing them off mightily. Belief in the hereafter surges because the hereandnow sucks. You get one life, though: the hereandnow. I question the idea of good guys, bad guys for that matter. We're not looking at it right: a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do and man is a soul stuck in an organic body with appetites which need slaking then governing to coexist with other organic bodies with appetites and sometimes that calls for the displacement of .... certain organic bodies. You get one life, though, both the displacer and the displacee feel strongly about that. Unless you find some meaning in death, which I never have. The best face you can put on it is that your organic matter decayed might feed other organic matter and provide a home for other souls, human or not. The older I get the more I feel my own death will be a damned shame, just because I know certain things that will die with me. Because both the beauty and the horror I have seen with these two eyes will die with me. The sounds. The passion. The great cooking. All the things my soul experienced through my body. Kaputski. All this is coming to mind because I'm editing a manuscript now which Blue Heron Book Works will publish this spring: "Man has Premonition of Own Death" by Nicholas DiGiovanni. He talks about death which is actually a way of talking about life, with warmth and humor and humanity. But don't take my word for it. I'll keep you posted.
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