Death

23 Apr
axe

image stolen from raymears.com

Maybe I’ll go outside and write in the park. But I’ll run into the neighbors, who’ll want to have their dog out. The dog who murdered Bud. I’ll have to look at the weird rich hippie woman’s face, his weird rich hippie face, their smug dad’s money organic beets lifestyle. Their stupid kid. I’ll have to look at them and then just come back in and sharpen my axe. Picture laying it right through their pit bull’s spine. Its startled look, dragging itself home on its front legs bleeding out.

I want to kill my neighbors’ dog. And their kid, and them, in that order.

Yesterday I thought about C. I was walking past some cork trees, or holly trees- I have no idea what the fuck they are. That’s why I was thinking about her. Walking through the public garden, some purple plant like rhubarb but with a tall stem, many leaves. She’d have told me what it is, how it grew and flowered. Actually it’s all one organism joined at the roots, she’d have said. It’s thirty thousand years old. It’s only pollinated by the Western rufous hummingbird, once per century. She was a botanical expert. She knew things and thought things. She was funny. Now she’s fucking dead. My dad is dead. My cat is dead. Impossible to mourn any one of them. They all get lumped together. Mixed with different feelings like my urge to lop off the pit’s back legs because it killed my cat. My urge to do it in front of their kid. Cause as much psychological harm as possible. If I pull it off right I could destroy generations.

Jesus Christ everybody’s dead and what’s left. My mom’s still alive. I should go see her this weekend. But I want pussy or I want to hole up in my sweaty apartment and write all day. I imagine C living inside my mind, reading over my shoulder. I reread the piece about her. It’s too short; there’s really nothing to it, but she would have laughed. All I wanted.

I read about a famous guy’s wife dying. I saw him at the gym once. Now I have this fantasy, I see him again. Give him advice. It sucks and you’ll never get over it, I’ll say. He says thanks for the heads up.

The experience of having someone die is acutely awful, I tell him. Then they continue to be dead after you’ve got through the acute grief like being set on fire. They continue to be dead and it’s chronically awful and it lasts forever, I’d explain. She’s never coming back. You may get briefly distracted from the unending fact of her death as other people you love also die. Or perhaps you yourself get sick and suffer ahead of dying. I’ve been through this. I have insights.

Here’s what’s inevitable. Everyone you love dying, and in many cases you living long enough to watch. Moments of burning agony punctuate long years of working for nothing. Here’s what’s impossible: falling in love. Finding a million dollars in the street. Creating something of lasting meaning. Horrible things: absolutely unavoidable. Joyful things: unbelievably difficult. They might come if you work extremely hard and have incredible luck. Might. But no matter what you’ll watch the people you love die and then die yourself. God is real; he’s a giant Eldritch alien mouth whose food is your suffering. Or he’s simply a blind twitching galaxy-sized beast from beyond the void who has no capacity to care. In any case H.P. Lovecraft was right. But hang in there man.

16 Responses to “Death”

  1. Zelcorpion April 23, 2016 at 1:29 pm #

    Sorry to hear about your cat dying such a fucked up death. Your neighbors are cunts.

    While I do believe that there is something beyond death (actually experienced some of it via out-of-body travel) it does not make the missing of our loved ones any more bearable.

    Still – knowing that there is an immortal being inside every living creature helps – just not necesserily at that specific moment. We live, we die, we live again and sometimes we meet again.

    • One less cat in the world. Good riddance. April 24, 2016 at 5:36 pm #

      No way. It’s this guy’s fault for letting his cat out to roam around unchecked puking, shitting, pissing, and fucking on other people’s property, thinking his cat would never run into a dog. Dumbass. There is always a day of reckoning for cats who wander to other places to taunt dogs.

      100% the fault of the author. He doesn’t want to go take personal responsibility because he never does. But it doesn’t change the fact that he was just asking for his cat to get mauled and die. It’s like a dumbass whore of a 19 year old white girl who goes alone to a black club dressed in dental floss and 6 inch stiletto heels, and who gets shitfaced drunk and high, and who then passed out in public after grinding on 20 different black guys and shoving her tongue in the mouths of all of them.

      Yeah, in that scenario, I guess she technically didn’t consent to getting gang-banged by 3 black guys while passed out, and she didn’t technically consent to those guys live snap chatting the fuckfest to all their buddies, who then took screenshots of the good parts of the action to post online and forward to her (now former) white friend’s. But guess what?

      That stupid white whore was asking for it.

      Same with our faggot Massachusetts boy here. Idiot was asking for it. Just like the stupid white bitch in the analogy above.

      Hence, the dead cat who died a painful, altogether 100% expected death. There are no such things as bad dogs. Only stupid ass cat owners.

      • Atlanta Man April 25, 2016 at 7:38 am #

        How do you really feel?

      • K-hole April 26, 2016 at 10:26 am #

        Pit bulls and blacks: not even once.

  2. Nikolai Vladivostok April 23, 2016 at 2:34 pm #

    The other day I thought, it would be so easy to have faith in an afterlife. That if we are good we will all meet again. I let myself believe it for a moment as I walked in the mountains and it was an exquisite moment. All the colors glowed like stained glass in the afternoon sun; the world felt like a meaningful, loving place. A place where I would be fortunate to live and die.
    Then I remembered that there’s no evidence for any of those beliefs and that a looming goodbye will be forever. The world quietly resumed its bleak normality.

  3. Atlanta Man April 24, 2016 at 12:40 pm #

    Goddamn, fuck. Life is so pointless, I am obsessed by money, pussy, consumerism but none of it matters. I want children but I don’t know why I want children, when I die it ultimately does not matter. Should I just make money and spoil my sisters kids? Should I buy a sports car , keep hitting the gym, and chase teen pussy? I spend a lot of time around death, and none of the dying wish they did less, but I am a slave to my desire of young tight pussy- is there a deeper meaning? There is not a deeper meaning, fuck teen pussy and ass, maybe have kids, provide, die.

    • blahfuckblah@eatshit.com April 25, 2016 at 3:06 am #

      You could also write 153 blog posts where you lament the death of your cat. I’ve heard there’s great meaning in that.

      • That's right May 1, 2016 at 9:06 am #

        +10,000.

        Glad to see other people are fed up with those “woe is me” crybaby bullshit about a cat who didn’t give a flying fuck about anyone other than itself. Certainly didn’t give a shit about a middle aged single loser who remains stuck in arrested emotional development.

        Even cats have too much self respect to want to acknowledge associated themselves with losers.

    • Ben April 25, 2016 at 11:21 am #

      But how do you really feel?

      Roissy poasted a long poast recently that concluded: “executive summary: the meaning of life is to fuck”.

      I disagree.

      If you fuck and get her pregnant, you end up with kids that enter this mortal coil and struggle with the same shit—if you have a son he’ll want to fit in and be a skateboarder or whatever he thinks will get him pussy, he’ll have this inner need to get money and pussy, and depending on how much you help him, he’ll either succeed or fail or figure it out. If you have a daughter she’ll struggle with figuring out who she should fuck and will ultimately choose the “Bad boy” and then settle into a boring life with the “beta provider”.

      It’s all the SAME SHIT over and over again, and it’s been that way for centuries. We now have higher tech gadgets but life isn’t that much different than 1000 years ago—-work or don’t, get pussy or don’t, eat, sleep, shit, get exercise or don’t, waste time or don’t, explore the world and encounter other human beings who go through the same boredom. Go watch entertainment media or read and the characters are doing the same exact shit except there’s magic or lightsabers or whatever. Bukowski and DelTacos have already said it better: eat sleep work shit fuck etc. etc.

      Don’t get me wrong—sex is one of the highest pleasures—but it also gets repetitive and reaches a limit where you go, damn, is this all there is.

      There’s got to be more to life, like: creativity, dominance over enemies and competitors, pursuit of eternal knowledge, etc. But to get to that “next level” we each have to stop thinking about sticking muh dick into dat tight teen pussy. Which is easier said than done.

      The only thing that makes this Delicious Tacos guy notable is: he has consistently written about his experiences and shares his feelz on the internet for over 3 years. People read and feel a connection to those feels. Some are girls who he then bangs. Creativity pays dividends in pussy, but it takes a really long time.

      The solution I’ve found is: I’ve sliced my dick & balls clean off and have retreated into the abandoned woods on the farthest border of Idaho. Life as a celibate monk is good these days. Waiting for the eventual collapse of the United States and total descent into apocalyptic anarchy sure gets boring. But it’s peaceful.

      • Fuck you ben May 1, 2016 at 8:54 am #

        You are still a total fag.

  4. Anonymous April 25, 2016 at 5:45 pm #

    I’m sorry about your cat. I agree with Zelcorpion. I hope you can get past these dark thoughts regarding your neighbors and leave them in peace. Good luck.

  5. deleted April 25, 2016 at 5:50 pm #

    I don’t know if I can edit, I don’t think it’ll let me, so I’ll say this here: Good luck sounds like a stupid thing to say. I hope you can move past this in a healthy way in time. Maybe writing a book will help. Sorry to read about your father and your cat and how you’re suffering. I hope it gets better for you.

  6. deleted April 25, 2016 at 5:56 pm #

    I don’t normally post on sites like this, content to peer in anonymously and move along but this posting really disturbed me. So here’s my third take on this: Do I think you’ll do any of these things to them? No, but dwelling in that level of hatred is bad, bad for you, for your soul. So I hope you find a way, with time, to move beyond it. Easy for me to say, I know but I still mean it.

  7. xsplat April 27, 2016 at 7:25 am #

    I lost my favorite live in lover to the reaper once. Six months of excruciating all day and all night pain.

    Impossible to communicate. Unless you are talking to someone else who has gone through the same thing, people will have no frame of reference. You’ll just come off as unbelievably weak and emotional or outright insane.

    Indescribable, unending pain. Even in dreams.

    • You are a bigger fag than ben May 1, 2016 at 9:02 am #

      Are you fucking for real??

      The pussy lost his stupid cat, not his fucking mom, imaginary wife, or imaginary kid. You are comparing the death of your live in gay lover to this loser of a 40 year old adolescent WHOSE STUPID CAT DIED.

      Who gives a shit. It was a fucking cat. Not a human being. Not even a dog. Just a fucking useless cat who probably wasn’t even home 80% of the time because it was busy wandering the streets and taunting dogs and shitting, puking, pissing, and fucking on other people’s lawns. This is why everyone hates cats except cat owners. Notice that no one ever gives a cat any food when they stare at you, but people always give food to dogs when they beg. That is because people like dogs, and dogs have personality.

      Cats are cunts.

      Fuck this guy’s cat. This pussy writer needs to grow the fuck up. He’s acting like a 9 year old prepubescent boy who just lost his dick. What a fucking pitiful act of millennial whining and immaturity.

      Who gives a shit. More money for cigarettes and vacations now.

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