Life at a Funeral

It’s so ironic the amount of memories that are made a funeral, whether it be the celebration of past experiences with the deceased or reminiscing while getting wasted at a wake it’s interesting the amount of life that is evident at most modern day funerals. Growing up in a cultish christian background it has been a challenge to become unaccustomed to gatherings where fire and brimstone are the unwelcome friends of the disbelievers. I remember being young attending funerals of past ministers where their dying wish was to make their pagan relatives feel frightened of the afterlife, being alone with satan while their family and friends partied it up with Jesus and his disciples. Of course, I have recently been acquainted with some delightful ‘Jesus Freaks’ who have assured me that the funerals they have attended have been quite different displaying Gods love and in fact celebration of his children's life. Death is such a tricky and unwanted subject of conversation, the dark figure sitting alone unwelcome, alone, associated with all that is filthy, painful and unwanted that awkward cousin who no one wants to acknowledge with but will forever be aware of its presence. Even at an early age curiosity arises when asking “where did I come from” whether it be the cabbage patch, the stalk or that beautiful package daddy won on the pokies, it seems that “where will i go” is much more of an awkward topic to explain to children. My aunt often tells her children they have gone on a long holiday (an explanation which I believe is rather universal),i know that when i was a tot holidays ended far too quickly so what then do children of this generation conclude in regards to the ‘holiday theory’? Are we as a nation ignoring death as a defense mechanism, so we are able to feel comfortable merely with our existence? At my funeral, i hope no one wears black, i wish for nothing but hard rock to be played and to perhaps be buried in cereal boxes. May everyone get drunk at my wake and reminisce about the good ole days with miss leff. Vive Mort!

Blogs, Cherrys and David Sedaris

While you were engulfed in flames, I sat alone listening to Portishead thinking of kites and gravity. Then I thought of hospitality under the influence and realised I like you. I like the way I can lick the bowl and not peer over my shoulder in fear of judgement. I can stick plastic eyes on peanuts and you'll still love me... my company will forever remain like crack to you. Then I heard his voice and I knew all these feelings were nothing but fallacy. Mistakes hidden by a spell check not yet turned on. Lyrics so perfect, so completely satisfactory my adolescent mind could not comprehend. I was then reminded myspace love would never again be the same.

I revamped my profile as a sign of a new beginning, a new me.

There's only so much photoshop can do..