elegy

we all die. me. you. it’s the cost of living. death. what is for certain. but most of us have no idea when. did those on the titanic know? or in the towers? or whenever, for millions, billions of years? nope. but knowing you’re going to die and facing it and not pretending it’s not going to happen makes living here and now all the more precious.

the boss is in his 60s, the surviving members of the beatles and the stones are in their 70s, pete seeger in his 90s, jackrabbit johansen skiied til 106–i’m still in my 40s–tho i can only say that truthfully for a few more days. i could live another fifty years. i could die tonight–so could you.

there are monks who run every night, with a rope and a knife. they are supposed to take their own life if they fail. but do you have to be a monk? what if you are middle-aged, with kids, in suburbia, bills to pay, things on your mind? can you still wake up from chasing the american dream?