Tune: The Band Perry’s If I die young
Lyrics: Mostly stolen
Now child, Auntie has tweaked the lyrics a bit. Go along with it, OK? One, two, three all tooogedarrrr:
When I die young, bury me in a sundress.
Lay me down on a bed of orchids.
Put me next to mother, at dawn.
Send me away to The Shining by Badly Drawn Boy. (Or to something by Libera)
Lord make me a rainbow-I’ll shine down on my father
He’ll know I’m safe with you when he stands under my colors
Oh and, life ain’t always what you think it ought to be, no
(I can’t stand that line of father not being gray but he’s burying his baby, so let’s skip)
The sharp knife of a loooooong life.
Well, I’ve had just enough time.
And then the song got too complicated for me to rip.
Yesterday but one or something, this arrived in my inbox: Just had a conversation about you with someone who expressed super lovedmiration for the way you charge at life, extremities on lock down. I’d rather not say who but. Lol.
LOL. LOL!! I live so aggressively precisely because I hate life’s guts so much. I hate it. Hate it. I hate the mewling idiocy of everything. The weak, pathetic nothingness. The posing and posturing. The pointlessness of everything as I’ll one day be as dead as the road kill I caught myself giggling at this morning.
I’m afraid of sleep. I’m afraid of people I know being asleep. I’m afraid of my own fucking back.
So I explode in pretty pink bubbles of bubbliness or a red mess of rage or an octarine shimmer of boldness to counter that bullshit. And also because If death is as inevitable as tomorrow, then it’s not going to find me living limply.
Its raining now, which is cheering me up.
I love rain. Lightning actually (a lot more before the bastard started picking people off the street).
But rain is good.
Which brings me to the end of this post.