October 12th, 2005


They're dropping like...Davids

Another friend-of-the-family David died today. He had a house upstate not more than a couple miles from the first one. They knew each other. Now they're dead.

We don't know what killed him yet. Unlike the first one he didn't have a long battle with cancer, instead his wife went to say goodbye to him one morning before going to work and found him dead in bed. It could have been a heart attack, a stroke, choking, it isn't clear. He was just alive one minute and then not the next. This is how many people die. Unexpectedly.

Last night in bed I had trouble going to sleep. It's been cold here for the first time all year and I lay in bed feeling awake and scared and not ready for death, which seemed so close I could reach out and touch it. I'm not superstitious, I know that such feelings have no "meaning" they are merely natural results of brain chemistry and psychological processes, and if you look for something horrible to happen after you get a bad feeling in this world you will be able to find it, because something horrible is always happening. Something horrible is ALWAYS happening.

Death is close to all of us all the time of course. Even now there could be a bomb next door waiting to go off, you just don't know. Tens of thousands died in Pakistan and India when two tectonic plates rubbed together a little and the earth shook and cracked and brought buildings down. One minute you're sleeping in your own bed, comfortable in dreamland, the next you awake to find the roof on top of you, all the air being pressed out of your lungs. Then you go back to sleep and never wake up again.

The Davids are dead now. I don't believe they're in heaven, I don't believe they're anywhere. I believe they're dead. They were good men, husbands, fathers, pillars of their communities. Pillars crumble into dust.

I don't know what there is to say about death beyond that if you're not enjoying your life right now you better figure out why and try to fix it as soon as possible. Happiness is a rare commodity and one that you should not trade for any other.

In the end we all die and fade away into nothingness. Some of us go after long battles with cancer, some suddenly, in bed, with no warning.

One of the keys to happiness is living your life to the fullest despite acknowledging this awful truth.
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In the city of brotherly love a man was killed because he got a sandwich order wrong. That's right, some jackass KILLED A MAN because he fucked up the order. "I said hold the mayo! IN HELL!"

260 pounds is way too heavy to be murdering someone over food. Not that it's okay for skinny people to kill unless they're celebrities, but when you're carrying a spare tire you don't need your pastrami THAT badly. I should know. I've skimped on a few tips in restaurants so I could order something extra, and I'm not proud of it, but at least a waiter who gets a 9% tip gets to bitch about it to his friends and family. He doesn't get set out in a pine box. The things that drive people to violence are absolutely insane. A sandwich? A SANDWICH? There's no excuse for hurting another human except self defense. If you're so pissed about the sandwich that you can't control yourself then knock over the potato chip display, or scream something vulgar at the top of your lungs. Both of those are acts that you will regret later, but they can be rectified. New bags of potato chips can be bought. Words can be apologised for. When you kill someone there's nothing you can do or say to bring them back.

Where do these people come from? What goes through their minds? I haven't a clue.
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