Ed note: Someone made her gravestone before she was even dead.
Who does that?
Who the fuck does that?
As a fucking job??
How fucked up is that?
I will never have a gravestone.
When I die, I will just be worm’s meat.
And this is how I want it.
This is how it will be.
How it should be.
I don’t want no idiot standing over my grave pontificating, telling lies about ‘What a great man he was.’ Blah! Blah! Blah!
Bullshit! He was an asshole, just like all the other assholes of the world.
Simple. He lived. He lied. He died.
Wipe your ass and your eyes and walk the fuck away.
Do not mistake me. I have long lost dead friends. I think of them often. I remember them. I cherish my memories of them. My most cherished memories are of Peanut and a few others. Do I visit their graves? Do I bring teddy bears, beers or flowers? Fuck no!
I hold them in my memory.
Fuck that grave-side shit!
That, to me is just theatre.
Self Pity.
Fuck that.
Fuck all that.
“Don’t sugar-coat it Lance; tell us how you really feel.”
“Go fuck yourself and leave me alone! How’s that?”
“I think we got the message.”
***
I had two grandmothers.
Most of us do/did
One was pure Saint.
One was pure Satan
I loved them both
Let us begin with the ‘Saintly One’
She was my Daddy’s mother.
Her name was ‘Pauline’ (Born in Levelland, Texas—NATIVE TEXAN—this is important—to me–Obviously)
She was beautiful.
And pondering back on her over the years, best contemporary help I can provide:
She was exactly like Emmylou Harris,
But prettier
And believe it or don’t,
Classier.
If that is even possible.
Yep.
‘Tis.
She had so much class.
Fun trivial fact:
Pauline (Grandmother… duh… who I am writing of…)
Once confided to me during a road trip:
“I had a streak of gray hair running in my hair, ever’ since I was fourteen. (Emmylou did too, btw) Did not prevent your grandfather from marrying me… go figure.”
***
My Paternal Granddaddy
He scared me
Into insanity
***
The other one…
The ‘Maternal One’
Name of ‘Mamie’
(From Tennessee—go figger)
Well,
She weren’t no Emmylou.
Let me tell you.
Mamie was uglier than a homemade mud fence.
She was ‘Satan-on-Steroids’
I loved her.
***
This is just a preamble
I’m too drunk and lazy to do this justice right now.
Stay tuned.
I swar’ on both of their graves, I will write no other shit until I return to this one.
It is important to me.
Probably not to you.
But, then agin, it ain’t never ‘bout you, is it?
It is ‘always’ ‘bout me.
And my self-empathy.
Ain’t it?
Thanks for watching/reading.
(And for tolerating a drunken fool–me)
***
And now a word from our sponsors:
Barbara,
I had forgotten about the DL option.
Will do that.
Thank you for reminding me.
Cheers
You can designate donating organs/body on your Driver’s License to make it easier and not require a will. Also, if conscious in a hospital you can make the request at that time.
Hi Barbara,
Yes, you have read this one.
But this version has a lot of added stuff.
Mostly rants.
I do love your suggestion about donating organs and body.
I am all about science and medicine.
Very good point. I am gonna do that.
Did have a will once…. Years ago.
No idea what happened to it.
I will write a new one.
Thank you very much for your continued visits.
And comments.
Your opinions are always spot on.
Cheers.
Haven’t I read this one already?
Also, why not donate your body to science? My eldest brother rotted away and gave his body to Mt. Sinai (I think) in New York. You could also donate organs you haven’t wrecked yet. They will either dispose of whatever is left or give your remains to a loved one (I think already cremated – not sure about that) so you can still be useful if you wanted.