The Point Always Cuts You, When You Don't See It Coming

"Can you make a sound to distract the nurse
Before I take a ride in the long black hearse
I don't want to die in the hospital
You gotta take me back outside"- Conor Oberst


The cold winds of death swirl around me. Every year there are more funerals, more health scares, more accidents. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being sorry for your loss. I'm sick of funeral homes. I feel that sickness. They're all so pristine and try to be so cozy for us, to make us forget that the corpse of someone we cared about is at the other end of the room. Maybe a nice peppermint hard candy will get the foul taste of mourning out of my mouth. And, sometimes, they have coupons laid out. They want your "future business" and will give you a discounted rate for being a loyal customer. If that's the way they want it, then fine...but I don't want anyone giving me the "caring for the deceased is a noble profession" bullshit or telling me what they do has anything to do with religious faith. They would just as soon throw your body in the river, if there was any money in it.

My uncle has been sick and I'm being told that he's probably gonna die within the coming year. It starts all over again; another person in and out of the hospital, another last Christmas with a loved one. My mom is a wreck. I never know what to do with this shit. I can't talk to people who are sad. Explaining any sadness you may have to a person losing someone they were actually really close to just seems kind of petty and thoughtless to me. Empathy doesn't make them feel any better.

The only person who's death I am equipped to deal with is me. And, these things make me think about it a lot. My dad was telling me what happens a lot of the time is that the doctor will give a person medication to numb the pain and they will fall asleep and just pass quietly. I'm not like most people. Anyone who's ever known me or read what I write probably knows that. I have a fear of dying in my sleep. It's one of the things I really don't like thinking about. I want to die with my boots on. Technically, I don't have boots. I guess I'll go buy some boots, wear them, and then die with them on. I don't understand the mentality of what seems the majority of people who say they want to die in their sleep. That's what you want? Cause I'm not too sure there's anything after this life and I don't accept not wanting to know it's over. That's sad. I want to live it. I want to be aware, to have final thoughts, one last monologue, an epitaph for my own existence....even if it's only to myself. I want all my favorite memories to pass before me and be able to have a realization that it was all worth getting hit by a bus, in the end. Sleep doesn't cut it. Sleeping isn't living and it's no way to die. It's the easy way out, for theological whackjobs and the philosophically bankrupt.

Being shot in the stomach and dying slowly on the pavement is the way for me. It's a poetically apt end. Your life is literally running out, right into the streets. And, I could give a big, hollywood western style speech to those around me, gasping, holding on for dear life, asking them to tell someone I love them and so on. That's beautiful to me. That's why I'm becoming progressively gangster and will soon be getting into the crack game. I figure, in these tough economic times, the best investments are glocks and rocks.

But, anyway, I guess that's just the way it is. You think about your own death but it's the other people leaving that fucks you up. Losing someone....even if they don't die actually....a falling out with a good friend, a breakup, meeting someone amazing and then never seeing them again....these things are probably worse. You have to live that death, monotonously, over and over, side by side with all the other deaths that loiter in your thoughts. I miss people who live down the street. I miss people that I still talk to. It seems a lot more pleasant to sleep through life, rather than dying. But sleeping is for suckers either way.

You're gonna have to let it all go someday anyway, it could be any day, and beautiful pieces of your world are breaking off all the time, so why would you ever want to sleep? Why would you want any moment at all, let alone the last, to go to waste? Thinking that way, you're missing things before you even miss them. What you're really missing is the point.

2 Stroke Penalty

I've been thinking about this Tiger Woods situation. I never figured I'd see his life in the public eye like this. But really, I've never thought about Tiger Woods, for any reason. So, I'd say that's a sufficient explanation. Looking at his background and the mentality I presume he has about himself, it's not really surprising to me that he cheated on his wife now. But I don't see that as the story. Men cheat all the time. The angle I'm looking at is what exactly the motives are of these women who sleep with famous married men. I find that very interesting and troubling.

I know you're saying "Hey, why are you singling out the girls, you chauvinistic ne'er do well!?". Well, person that can't let me get into making a point, when's the last time you heard of some random schmuck off the street sneaking around having hot, drugged up sex with Halle Berry? You can say celebrity women just don't cheat as much and that could be very true. However, with the knowledge I have of the male brain, I'd say it could be happening everyday. If Halle Berry had an affair with a guy, he'd just be happy to be having an affair with Halle Berry. Telling people would be stupid. It could fuck up your having sex with Halle Berry plans. I wouldn't tell anyone, personally. ("Anthony, why would Halle Berry have an affair with you?". That's a question I get a lot, in my everyday life. I don't know. But Tiger was married to a Swedish supermodel and cheated with some weird looking bitch who was on the show Tool Academy, so there's some kind of precedent here, I think.) The most a guy would use the situation for is to be able to hold it over his best friends' heads forever. That's accomplishment, to a dude. Your friend gets on your case about something like "Man, you totally pussied out last night" and you're like "Yeah, maybe, but I also remember that time I pussied out Halle Berry." That doesn't even really make any sense, it's a real grammatically abstract thing to say, but he'll understand....and he'll be pissed....cause you just won. Having trump cards to play is important to guys. We enjoy the little things.

These women seem to be up to something more sinister. It's like they hope he gets caught. They want the recognition of it, from people they don't know. They want to be a ho celebrity. Tiger admits he's had transgressions and, all of a sudden, like 3 girls come out like "Hey, I had sex with him. Look over here. I'd love to damage his reputation, for some tv exposure.". From my estimation, all these girls look like the kind of girls who growing up they were told they were princesses and they were special but now they're 26 and don't fit the bill. They haven't done anything, have no skills, people don't take them seriously cause they have this fucked up perception of themselves, so....they go out and do something to get some acknowledgement. They figure "Tiger Woods could treat me like a princess.". But then Tiger Woods treats her like a prostitute, like the pimp he is(Tiger Woods is an immaculate pimp name if I've ever heard one), and then she decides to use him to make herself famous so she can make a bunch of money and finally get her jewel encrusted tiara. (By the way, I didn't even think this theory through beforehand at all but it's making so much sense to me right now.)

What I'm saying is that it's really bad parenting. It's bad parenting on both ends. I'm not letting Tiger off the hook either. We caught him by the toe and we're not gonna let him go. He cheated a bunch of times and that's douchey, any way you slice it. But growing up, he probably did nothing but golf, he was pushed in that direction, and he never learned how to be a human being....just a golfing machine. If people took the job of parenting more seriously and taught their children to have good, personal beliefs and the ability to respect themselves and others, there would be less of this. Don't fill your daughter's head with thoughts of being a princess either...unless she is, of course....real princesses usually turn out to be pretty nice people actually. So, teach your children to be good. If you don't have children but you know someone with children, teach their children. If you don't know anyone with children, steal one from someone who looks like a fuckhead. We don't want them growing up and filling a poor Swedish supermodel with sadness.

P.S. Another lesson I find in this story is that arrogance never pays. This motherfucker leaves a message on a girl's phone like "Hey, this is Tiger. My wife is suspicious. Take your name off your voicemail.". No, cause that could never come back to haunt you. It was probably one of the million other guys named after a jungle cat. You should've left your address and social security number too. Fucking asshole.