the pit
Wes would come to work in the morning, still trying to wipe the night off his face.... ready to take the heads off those chickens, but it’d get hot inside the slaughterhouse, he wasn’t good for much more than a couple of hours.. only time can shed the rum, it’s heavy stuff... Hey boy, you’re gonna grow up strong, just like me... just like me... a vagrant... put him in the TB ward only way to keep him out of trouble... no need to watch him, they’ll be dragging him back come morning anyway... died over a bucket of garbage crushing Styrofoam... being economical.
You’re the spitting image of him Nancy said... is that right, funny thing I haven’t saw you around home then... Yeah well times change... sure they do, times only change when they’re convenient, like when the bill comes for the tombstone... times change alright... dying never had anything to do with it.
There are so many ways to die... you can die like Wes drunk with your head down in a pail of garbage, you can stick your head in an oven, fall asleep at the wheel, or have the cancer rip through your lungs... in how many ways can you die, you can’t count the ways... the thing about death for those of us left behind is that it’s never the same old story... how did your parents die, your aunt, your friend... there are so many circumstances but not even the circumstances can make it right or wrong...
Did the Buddha not die, was he not a man, like Schopenauer, like Kerouac, like a flower... maybe the Buddhists will say he didn’t die like that... as much as I want to, I don’t know if I believe them... or maybe I do.. they were at least right about the suffering....
I was reading Journey again tonight and early on he writes:
The biggest defeat in every department of life is to forget, especially the things that have done you in, and to die without realizing how far people can go in the way of cruminess. When the grave lies open before us, let’s not try to be witty, but on the other hand let’s not forget, but make it our business to record the worst human visciousness we’ve seen without changing one word. When that’s done we can curl up our toes and sink into the pit. That’s work enough for a lifetime.
You’re the spitting image of him Nancy said... is that right, funny thing I haven’t saw you around home then... Yeah well times change... sure they do, times only change when they’re convenient, like when the bill comes for the tombstone... times change alright... dying never had anything to do with it.
There are so many ways to die... you can die like Wes drunk with your head down in a pail of garbage, you can stick your head in an oven, fall asleep at the wheel, or have the cancer rip through your lungs... in how many ways can you die, you can’t count the ways... the thing about death for those of us left behind is that it’s never the same old story... how did your parents die, your aunt, your friend... there are so many circumstances but not even the circumstances can make it right or wrong...
Did the Buddha not die, was he not a man, like Schopenauer, like Kerouac, like a flower... maybe the Buddhists will say he didn’t die like that... as much as I want to, I don’t know if I believe them... or maybe I do.. they were at least right about the suffering....
I was reading Journey again tonight and early on he writes:
The biggest defeat in every department of life is to forget, especially the things that have done you in, and to die without realizing how far people can go in the way of cruminess. When the grave lies open before us, let’s not try to be witty, but on the other hand let’s not forget, but make it our business to record the worst human visciousness we’ve seen without changing one word. When that’s done we can curl up our toes and sink into the pit. That’s work enough for a lifetime.
posted by j/r at 1:30 a.m.
1 Comments:
i am no buddhist but i think a buddhist might say that the buddha did die like a flower...
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