A long time coming

I'll preface this by saying that while unlikely to be true I believe myself to be immortal.


I have spent a lot of time in my humble blogging career talking about my wedding and plans for getting married. It has always been of an ironic bent, especially lately as it seems that some people don't consider it quite as funny as I do. Suffice it to say that while I'm loyal as a border collie I don't see it in my future anytime soon. I mention marriage once again only because I have devoted so much time to it and I have ignored my own death. Something which despite the preface seems at least twice as likely as marriage. All to my chagrin.

Well let me right this wrong.

I spend most of my waking moments bristling at something or someone and it would be a shame to die and not at least get a chance to explain to all my foes and hindrances that they are a useless pack of wankers who have held me back at every step. That I could have been great were it not for their interference and that I regard every second spent with them as a wasted second. A second that I gladly would have killed babies in the snow for the chance to relive it and do something useful with my time. There is a list of these people, it only exists in my head at the moment but if it is the last thing I do I will scrawl their names in my own blood beside where I fall.

My vanity of course would prefer a living funeral. Which as far as my meagre research has led me to understand is a gathering of all the people who would otherwise come to your funeral but yet you are alive and present and enjoying all the nice things being said about you. In my case there would also be shouting at those that have had it coming. A lot of shouting. A corpse always has the moral high ground.

It should be a secular affair because for the sake of my immortal soul I do hope I was right about the whole religion thing. It'd be embarrassing if I wasn't. Downright catastrophic for my surprised to exist immortal soul. I'd like a cremation, just because you can do such interesting things with ashes these days. My preference being that they are used in tattoo ink and all my friends get a commemorative tattoo. Maybe my smiling cherubic face on their chest. In memory of me you should be slightly embarrassed forever.

My poor mother should be comforted too. Not that I assume she is naive to the facts but in cleaning my room she is likely to find things that were hidden to spare us a moment and an explanation. Poor dear. Trying to mourn but really just ashamed. Deeply ashamed and hoping too that I was right about religion, for my sake.

My vanity is the ruling factor in these preparations. I'd like no less than three eulogies. As a change I think they should be honest. When my grandmother died the priest in summing up said she was "kind and generous of spirit", she was not. I don't think she was any of the nice things he said. Before she lost her mind and died ten years before she was finally buried, she was bitter and sharp and condescending and didn't suffer fools gladly. Commendable but not suitable for the traditional eulogy format. My eulogies will tell the people assembled for the benefit of my parents and siblings the truth. The terrible truth. The failure of a man I really was. Despite that, I'd also like it mentioned how fucking awesomely strong I was.

Every story needs a happy ending.