Today I'm obsessed with the song "Underground" by Kimya Dawson. Behold:
Some people hate Kimya Dawson, I'm sure. Like, people who can play guitar really well and bitch about musicians only knowing 2 chords. Last year at about this time Brandon and I discovered the sweet brillance of her album Hidden Vagenda and spent great amounts of time on the road singing along at the tops of our lungs. When I was going through a box the other day I found another CD of hers that I had lost promptly after buying it, and brought it out to my car and have been revisiting it. It's appropriate since it was in the fall when I first got into her music. Anyway, this song has a lyric that is kind of sweet and morbidly depressing at the same time, something Kimya's really good at, that goes like this:
"So I tattoo instructions on my ass, that say don't ever put this body in a casket, burn it and put the ashes in a basket, and throw them in the Puget Sound, I don't ever want to be underground, oh no"
I agree with Ms. Dawson, please, please, burn me up. I am a little torn as to what to do with the ashes, however. I am sure that by the time I die, there will be a lot of places I've gone that I could feel very confident about being scattered. But what if my family wants to keep me with them? That would be just fine. I feel like when someone dies their loved ones are so overwhelmed that it would suck to leave them with a decision to make. I was OK with seeing my dad in his casket, but after the funeral I had nightmares about his body underground and I still do sometimes. Including one in which I had to hire a cleanup crew to dig him up and like, clean the moldering moss off his body? Yeah, maybe that is TMI.
Somebody please comment and tell me what you want them to do with your body when you die. I am morbidly curious.
Last night I went to Mezcal with Toby and Brandon -- this is our Monday night, post-school tradition -- and sometime during the meal I got a phone call from this ex-friend (God, I hate using that term, it makes me feel so DRAMATIC and IMMATURE, but it's honestly the truth). I didn't know I got the phone call until I got home, since my phone was on silent, but I also had a follow-up text from her that said something about her calling on accident and not to worry because she'd delete my number so it would NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. This is someone who I had been friends with since high school when things went South, and I thought the text was the most pointless, immature thing ever. Pretty much like saying "Please don't be mistaken. I still cannot stand you and will never be able to stand you again." I find that the friends I had in high school, on the whole, when worse came to worse with our friendships, acted much like we would have at 17. I have to include myself in this appraisal, too. Has this been anyone else's experience, that if you've known someone since you were a kid, in your interpersonal dealings with this person, there's some sense of arrested development?
I feel pretty confident that since I have asked pointed questions to readers today, that no one will respond. That will show me.
The Brandon Dill birthday spectaular phenomenon is planned for Thursday night. I am having his little friends over, and buying him soda and making pizzas. Also possibly ordering wings? Ugh, I just realized that there's an obvious connection between events in our lives in the past 6 months and my desperate attempt to mother him this Birthday day. I am not sure that I like it, but caring nurturer me cannot -- must not!! -- be stopped.
Also, I just caught myself choking myself a little bit at my desk. I'm a pervert.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
they'll make a moving for-tv movie on lifetime about my life
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5 comments:
Dammit..blogger just erased my comment.
Is she from the Moldy Peaches? My "friend" at MTSU loved them and the Simpsons. Random, I know. I like the simplicity of the music for the same reason that I love William Carlos Williams.
When I die, I want to be cremated. I want my ashes to be mixed with some good green, and I want my friends to "get high with me" while the scatter the remaining ashes over a cliff off whatever coast suits their fancy. I like both of them, coast I mean.
It is inevitable that with marriage come mothering of one's male counterpart. I don't know why this happens, but at least they get the added bonus of having us do their laundry and fuck them.
Man, this comment is pretty X-rated today.
bettedavislies: yes she was in The Moldy Peaches.
A: I'd like to be cremated but, in a very different way. I my body shipped to scotland and a very large viking style floating pyre to be made. Put my body in the middle of it, cover it in very flammable oil, push it out to sea and then have some super hot chick shoot a flaming arrow over the water to light my sorry ass on fire. I like the weed idea. Maybe add some of that too.
Oh and there must be bagpipes. Lots of them. However, if they play Amazing Grace I'll come back from the dead as a zombie and kill every bagpiper playing it.
i want to die instantaneously in some fantastic manner that leaves no body to be dealt with, like being eaten by a tiger or od-ing on sleeping pills on a burning ship. barring these things, i will settle for being cremated, but only as long as no one keeps my ashes. that's just weird. i think that a nicely framed photo will do fine without having an urn full of me next to it on the mantle.
i've always been uncomfortable about the post-death culture we have here. why do we try and preserve the dead and keep an earthly place holder for someone who is now just a something. i'm all for keeping your loved one's memory alive, but it's a little sick and gross to erect a stone and reserve that place like it was holy, sacred and reverent.
you're gonna end up with a desk drawer full of silk scarves to hide the ligature marks, freakazoid.
p.s.
dear kip,
don't you think your viking pyre fantasy would be more accurately realized in one of the scandanavian countries? i'd like to suggest norway.
love,
amy
I keep saying that I want my body to be donated to the Body Farm in Knoxville, but I'm only 60 percent sure that I'm serious about that. I really honestly would like to give all my organs away. Except for the liver, which will be effin' useless by the time I'm done with it.
L: It's funny you say that about the ashes and pot, because I just read an article the other day about how some of Kurt Cobain's ashes were stolen and now an artist has them and plans to smoke them in some pot. Oh, Kurt Cobain, you and your suicide are so fucking 90s.
K: That is some Goddamned theatre right there. Some HST shit.
A: Not to mention all those bodies underground take up a lot of fucking space, and are pumped through with poisonous chemicals. Did you ever watch Six Feet Under? A guy on there took his dead wife, wrapped her in a sheet and dug an unmarked hole himself and put her in there. It was fucking intense.
L: I know you know what I'm talking about with the SFU. I cried my eyes out during that scene. Also, do you remember when Claire had that dream and dead Lisa was holding her aborted baby? This is completely off topic. I like to think about your body rotting in a car trunk in Knoxville. Romantic.
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