My dear Werner, but I do have a bone to pick with you. You certainly brought a much needed note of philosophy to my bearing, but you have left my life in a bit of a shambles. You did not find it necessary to report to my job, and you left a lot of laundry. Oh well, that gold minidress is my favorite, too.
I am sure you are all wondering what non-being is like. Is it as deliciously blank and nothing-y as it sounds? Not at all, for as soon as I ceased to exist I was piped on up to Heaven. The pneumatic tube was a real hoot. I should think dying is going to be a lot of fun. At any rate it will do wonders for my windblown look. Being dead, on the other hand, is less fun. Think of all the people you know who are dead. Miss them, don’t you? Quite romanticized them in your memory, haven’t you? Now imagine how terrible it is to see them again, to find they are as flawed and tedious as anyone else. And it’s not like you get to bunk off and hang out with James Dean in his bongo room, or play a bit of cassino with Voltaire. Just as in life, you are doomed to stick with your own kind. So for every treasured Aunt Myrtle, there is a terrible Uncle Barney who clears his throat constantly. Verdict- Heaven, can’t stand it. At least creative attire is encouraged.
(This picture is actually from an opening at Gawker for photographer Kelsey Bennet, which I am incumbent to mention as a fan of her work- ed.)
[…] have written about our trips to Heaven in this very space, and you don’t see us making a poxy film about it! Heaven was a bonified […]