Sunday, August 23, 2009
More psycho therapy
"Somewhere up and out there, the dust of Marnie drifts through space after the spacecraft she was touring on exploded upon re-entry into the earth's atmosphere... she would have thought would be a most excellent way for her to pop her clogs.
She was fortunate to be vapourized to smithereens with her lover by side, just like in that Smiths' song, she liked, 'such a heavenly way to die'.
She is survived by her houseplants Casey and Finnegan, an adopted Vancouver Island Marmot named Dylan and, of course, her friends.
She still had not returned Dr Zhivago to the library...."
This 'write your own eulogy' exercise sucks rat shit. I would not want a funeral. I would not a eulogy. I've only been to one funeral and I fucking hated it. I wouldn't inflict that sort of shit on people I loved.
Actually I guess this exercise doesn't suck. It clarified one of my life values: I don't want a funeral, I don't want a eulogy.
Next stupid exercise!