Now that KABLAM! a fist has shot out of death’s anus and made the acquaintance of my oesophagus, I am convinced, more than ever, more than the LAST time that I want a Memento Mori tattoo. I have done more research since then. Ahem.
“Remember you are mortal”
I sometimes forget. This God complex oso! Eyver to leave you unprepared for things such as actual DEATH and HELPLESSNESS.
“Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may die”
Because I’m prone to depression. Black feelings that just hit me in the heart and head from NO-WHEYA!
No more complaining.
A reminder of the vanity of earthly glory and pleasure.
Because that one thing that you’re most vain about? The one that gives you most pleasure? That one which defines you? It may happen that you, finding yourself desperate, broken, pathetic and finished, stick it in God’s face as a bargaining chip. Leverage!
You offer it saying, “Take this, maker of things and spare me my mother/job/love life/…”. But we human beings, we’re extremely powerless. And God doesn’t make deals with us. So no more vanity.
But I’ll keep the pleasure.
So, HELLO October, darling October. You’re going to give me my first tattoo. Which is going to look like this:
I’m warning you, Shadrach. No bullshit this time. I stick syringes into eyes. Ask around.