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2006-12-11 - 11:13 a.m.

So since we're all going to die one day, shouldn't everyone get a tattoo or a bracelet or a mohawk the day that it crawls out of something that happens to other people and into something that will happen to you? Shouldn't that tattoo read something like, "Oh"?

I'm in good health so far as I know and it's true that I'm reading a book written by a funeral director called "The Undertaking," and maybe I'm finally getting a bit of the existential, but sometimes lately I've got to work at making the same stuff matter. Maybe I'm growing up and losing patience for small chats at a bar. Maybe I'd like to move a boulder. Or at least kick it, once. Stone walls and permanence. That Flaming Lips song, how he asks, with kindness in his voice, if I realize that everyone I know someday will die, that helps.

But then there's warm beds and falling asleep. I've been working on a just-before-sleep dream for a few nights. I've been playing the what-if-I-were-a-billionaire game. At first, I tried really hard to come up with an alternative to all scenarios where I give all my money to family and friends and deserving, gray-haired organziations who do good on my behalf. But it's really more fun that way, and so, just before sleep the past few nights, I've been spending just loads of cash on my mom, my brothers (no coke, big brother), poor natty-headed kids in my neighborhood, and especially to the kids at 25th and Harford Road who shoot baskets at a milk crate nailed to a telephone pole. I'd buy them something proper. In any event, it's good tonic and in the mornings, such as this morning, I wake up with a good heart. If I play my cards right, it might last until lunch.

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