dying is made of death

Omen? I wanted to sit down and write about death (DEATH) and I started straight away, and with some errant clacky tap I sent my original entry into nether-netherland. It hasn't come back, or phoned home for a curfew extension.

So I go again, and here is why: I am supposed to be asleep (it's midnight and some change in this strip of lady America, and I have a 4:30 plane to board, but I can't stay/sleep still) and I am thinking about death. No, don't be freaked. Ungooey death things. A death-thought scrapbook.

One of the first death things I realized with some clarity is that I will eventually die at an airshow. I've told quite a few people about this niggling naggle of a thought. Never been to an airshow, but it is common knowledge that people are always dying at them. Plane Skewers Crowd and Fuselage (what is a fuselage?) Hits Old Lady On Head and Flames Eat Flesh and ahhhhhh smoke smoke everywhere it burns so. My friend Chris has long promised me that when my moment of reckoning comes (and I don't know when I will get my "go to airshow" signal but I'm sure it will wash over me like a warm milk waterfall) he will be there too. Will he tell me "heads up"?

I had a dream last year some time about a man with a black electric chair tattoo on his left thigh. This I have also shared...when you think you are having real death glimpses, or hints, or maybe cheat sheet peeks, you (well, I) want to talk about them to make them at least somewhat real-er, to date-stamp it all and maybe get a witness or two. Am on the lookout for this man all of the time, especially in restaurants with wood paneling and dimming lights.

My most long-termiest and serious boyfriend's last name is Deatherage. DEATH e RAGE, crimson-fanged twins of scare.

Lastly, if I got a final pre-death wish that I had to make death-connected (maybe there are rules about these things? how would you know, smartsleeves?) then I would wish to know how many times I've been in a room/kiosk with a reformed or future or veryactivethankyou murderer unknowingly. I've never known, I don't think. I'd want a video slideshow of the date and place where we almost tangoed, and the bad person circled in yellow highlighted squiggles like a football playback freeze-frame...so I could go, "Her??? Really?? Yes, she did have murderous-looking unkempt hair" or whatever. I think this would be both shocking and satisfying, and those might be nice, strong feelings to have before my last big sleep.

Speaking of sleep, I am now afraid to. Great. Good work. And I better not have jinxed my planes tomorrow.

fell on 2001-02-20 at 12:26 a.m.

<< o >>