Break, break, break, on thy cold gray stones, oh sea.Last night Ben said that when I had one day left to live I would go and sit at the edge of the sea and not move. For the entire day. I was struggling to do a task in which you list what you would do if you had a year, a month, a week, and then a day left to live. He knew my answer before I did.
And I would that my tongue could utter the thoughts that arise in me.
~Tennyson
It should be so easy but I have seen death that was not scheduled and death that was and the logistics of compressing your dreams into a list and a suitcase is completely overwhelming to me. I range wildly between living off the oxygen of those dreams and pushing them away for their sweet futility. I'm not sure if it's better to know or to just be bumbling along and be wiped off the face of the earth.
The music was missing. Company coming means I don't put on my music and it becomes an uphill battle to reinstate a necessary addiction. And then everything is okay and the confusion stops and I know exactly where I am once again. And I'm sorry for that. The very first thing I do every morning before I press the button for the coffee pot to brew my awake is to flick the switch on the stereo and blow the sleep out of the house via the dial welded on eleven.
I hope there is a song I like playing when I die.
Oh, well, hello, morbid Sunday morning, how have you been?