When will you die?

The moral to all this is we should all get out of this business that makes us pessimists, dontcha think?

 

Totally . . . maybe that's why jounalists don't tend to live until we're 80 or so.

 

I will take my own life with Roman gravitas, like the goodly Nerva once did on the isle Capri (not far removed from our present America), in the year 2078.

This too shall pass.

 

March 28, 2042

I have 1,117,090,XXX second left.

I guess to quote the Who: I hope I die before I get old. Talkin' about My Generation.

 

In the words of Denis Leary:

"I love these little facts. 'Well you know. Smoking takes ten years off your life.' Well it's the ten worst years, isn't it folks? It's the ones at the end! It's the wheelchair kidney dialysis fucking years. You can have those years! We don't want 'em, alright!? And I guarantee if I'm still alive, I'll be smoking then. I'll be in my wheelchair, with my adult diapers on and my twenty-five year old non- smoking born again christian son behind me. I'll be going, 'Hey! Make sure you wipe this time. I was itching all week for Christ's sake! And get me some more wippets. I'm almost out, you fucking pussy! Come on!'"

 

This fucking sucks:

June 21, 2007. I have 9 months to live. Great.

I just ate chinese buffet and the fortune cookie said "Don't wait for the perfect moment because the perfect moment might pass you by." How fucking prophetic.

I met a girl today, a photog from another outfit, and I'm going to ask her out now.

9 fucking months. Great.

 

Thursday, July 14, 2050

That would make me almost 95 years old. One feakin' long obit.

I'd take that in a heartbeat.

 

I'm not going near this, except to say please let me see Cleveland win one title before I go. I was only nine for the last one, and I barely even remember it.

 

April 26, 2037 ...

Fuck! Just 11 days after filing a tax return. Couldn't we get it done on April 14? I mean, who wants the hassle?

Songbird, Maybe this'll help --

I went sky divin'
I wen Rocky Mountain climbin
I rode 2.7 seconds
on a bull named Fu Manchu

And I loved deeper
and I spoke sweeter
and gave some forgiveness
I'd been denying

And he said someday I hope you get the chance
to live like you were dying ...

 

9 months from now will put me a few months shy of my 36th birthday. My mom's brother died when he was 36. I guess I gots some livin' like I'm dyin' to do.

The girl I met today, her coal-miner-daughter accent made me want to keep listening for a long time. Pretty eyes of hazel, too.

 

Think you'll get laid if you tell her you only have nine months to live?

 

I'd like to believe she'd spring for a mercy lay and get off knowing she was the last one.