death

  1. So, how did it go?

    I know that this is a form of denial, but I've got this weird habit whenever someone emotionally close to me dies where once all the social forms have been carried out, the funeral has been had or not, the body has been buried or burned or fed to the vultures (not a practice anyone I know has managed to arrange, and in decline, but I kind of like the idea) I get this instant urge to call them or message them or whatever and ask what they thought of the whole thing. Y'know, like a Yelp!...
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  2. Melancholy

    So today is the twenty-first anniversary of my arrival in Japan. 42% of my life spent here, but who's counting and I'm just a little overwhelmed with it all. Paths not taken. Castaway, Lost in Translation, Sliding Doors and this fucking thing comes up and reduces me to tears. I noticed right off the misuse of "cool," but what I don't think the filmmakers would have spotted in their own work was the sounds of barking dogs and insects being not quite right. No, the dogs would be fine. A dog...
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  3. Cast Away

    That was one of the last movies I saw before I self-exiled, but it's not the topic today. I took the bus to the center of town. Mid-day, not too crowded, so I was able to find an empty two-person seat towards the back. I dunno your public transport, but ours is pretty well endo-caged. Lots of padded bars at levels convenient to both sitting and standing riders of all heights, so the seatback in front of me had a handhold bar, covered in cushioning foam. And there was a person in the...
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  4. Challenge Accepted

    It had been an ugly night from the get-go. The stars were wrong or something and they ended up... She asked him if he knew where the nearest restroom was and when he pointed, headed the other way out of spite. The bar made quite a bit of money that evening, so at least someone came out ahead. And when things came to a head and she shoved him against the wall, slapped him across the face, screamed that she wanted to kill him he pulled out his blade, pressed the handle into her hand and...
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  5. The Funeral of My Youth

    Inspired by a recent comment in Random Thoughts. When I was a senior in high school, one of my classmates died. Not through any of the usual teenage shenanigans, not through a random bit of ionizing radiation twisting his DNA. It took a week to find the spot where the flight path had made its abrupt intersection with local geography. His father wasn't certified to fly on instruments alone. But when the funeral came... Ever been to a high school funeral? I wore black jeans, a dark grey...
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  6. Heathers, or Veronica Passing

    I wasn't one of the cool kids. I was an outcast, a freak, and I told myself I liked it that way. Maybe I did. There are words other than depression, although they sometimes come hand in hand. Introversion. Sincerity? Or am I being judgmental? But a decade or so ago, one of the cheerleaders died. Twenty years after high school, twenty years after I last saw her. We weren't friends, but we had a couple classes together. She was blonde and blue-eyed and beautiful and bubbly and fit, and...
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  7. ad Lucem

    The darkness is gone, in the light now. Fading. Limbs... Tired, so tired. Wings... Limbs don't connect. We danced, we danced and sang and sucked the sweet nectar, mated, flew through the air, the warm, bright air, after so long burrowing in the darkness, constriction, tightness and the dual emergence, first from the earth onto the Earth, and then emerging Self from self, new sensations, new abilities from a part so old it was there in the before. Will be there again. No more...
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  8. Cruelty

    never, ever, follow the breadcrumbs when it comes to the internet. It will just lead to pain in agony oh, and the urge to commit genocide. LOL This started out as a "Not Happy" thread post that kinda got away from me. I hope @John-Wayne doesn't mind me using his quote as the epigraph, if it's a problem, let me know and I'll remove it. I've been watching a lot of restoration videos lately, where people buy old semi-junked machinery and tools at swap meets and flea markets and restore it to...
  9. 3/11/11: In Memoriam

    Eight years since the earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown. It was my day off, vacation time, I was sitting at my computer doing something, gaming, whatever, when the world started to sway gently back and forth. I looked up at the light cord, because that's where you look, dizzy spells and trucks going by don't cause penduluming, but there it was, swinging gently. Earthquake, but not a bad one. But... It just kept going on. Usually these things last a few seconds, but this one just...
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  10. In Our Faith...

    In our faith, we keep what we kill" -The Lord Marshal, The Chronicles of Riddick This post has nothing to do with what we kill. When Mrs. A's mother died, we had a funeral. The guest of honor's only sibling, her brother, was of course present, and... ...and when they wheeled the coffin from its place at the head of the chapel for us to place the grave goods... ...the flowers... ...the candy... ...and the flowers... ...her favorite hat and scarf... ...and the flowers... ...the doll...
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  11. It Is Done

    The room had low benches set into the walls and big doors at either end. They'd been let in through the first set, and arranged themselves along the waist-high, U-shaped wall in the center of the room. From down the hall, through the other doors, he could hear the soft whine of the electric motors that powered the... What, he wondered, would you call it? He'd worked in a warehouse, decades ago, running the powered pallet-jacks of boxes up the ramps into the cargo compartments of the...
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  12. Syncretism (a fragment)

    The service was Christian, as was she. I learned how to pick the bones when the little dog died, ten years ago. How far does the syncretism go here? I guess I'll know soon enough.
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