Auntie Sandee on the Ass of Death

From “Last Tango in Paris”: “You’re alone…you won’t be able to be free of that feeling of being alone until you look death right in the face…until you go right up into the ass of death…”

Someone told me, “Oh you want a husband!  No, no — you don’t want to die alone!”  The most alone I’ve ever been was when I was with someone;  there was a person who represented an idea that I shouldn’t be alone, yet I was, so it became a mockery, which is even more painful.  Doesn’t matter how compatible to me they were.

You’re going to die alone even if you die with a roomful of people.  You’re born alone.  You die alone, just the same as your experience in this existence is only yours and no one else can fit inside of it and prescribe a course of living for you based on that existence.  Twins are born together.  But are they experiencing the exact same thing together as if they were in one skin?  This last part reminded me of something my sweet Kyle had written a bit back.

But I don’t know — maybe this would be possible in a higher state of consciousness.  So maybe we can die with people.  Maybe our energy can merge and float off into the ether, made up of different chemical compounds of course since the energy transforms, and we go back into the “essence” together.  Scientists say when we die, there is energy that doesn’t, so maybe.  Wouldn’t that be nice? Humans just have a tendency of making pretty metaphors of things — as we speak in colors — consisting of heaven and angels, etc.

It doesn’t matter to me if I die in my room by myself or if there are people surrounding me — I think that would be worse, to be fading away, leaving all of these grieving loved ones behind.  Maybe.

I had the flu many years ago.  I lie on the sofa for three days.  I didn’t have enough strength to open the convertible bed.  I thought, “I’m going to die here,” and it was very matter-of-fact, no fear.  At that time I saw easily how simple it is to die, how easy it would be to just leave.  I had no sentimentality about loved ones, nothing.

No matter whether you die with people or not, being alone is something you have to deal with by yourself.  Having another person, or a body around you all the time isn’t the cure for loneliness.  There’s some space inside yourself that you alone have to deal with.

This had been a building full of widows when I moved here years ago.  I’m sure they all thought their husbands would be around so that they could “die together.”  Ha!

Outer-Limits Porn

I’m thinking of writing porn.  Everyone’s doing it.  But mine would be “outer-limits” porn.  My movie would have canned goods (But absolutely NO can openers!), Brillo pads, coffee filters, extension cords (naughty, eh?), and the entire cast, except for me, would be ninety years old – excluding my grandmother – how dare you imagine that I would allow my grandma to be in such filth!  You might have guessed that I cooked up (cooked up – ha!) this idea while in my kitchen.

I watched a snippet of Don Juan DeMarco with Johnny Depp, Marlon Brando and Faye Dunaway.  Marlon Brando and Faye Dunaway are old in it and they’re married.  There’s a scene with them in bed.  They kissed.  It got me horny.  That’s right — I think old people are hot — forget y’all!  I was mad they didn’t get butt naked.

I’ve written about my WWII veteran friend who’s one sexy bastid.  He’s eighty-six.  He raps, old school, and he killed bad people.  You can’t touch that.

I respect him too much so he can’t be in my movie even though he’s muy hotto and I know he would blow it up.  I just can’t see pimping him like that.  Plus he’s too young.  But I’ll interview some of his friends and some people from the Hebrew Home for the Aged at Riverdale – that’s where grandma is.  And I know oldsters who visit the gallery where I work.

It’ll be a problem if they don’t want to get naked.  But there won’t be animals in this movie for those of you into that kind of thing – blech!  I’ll keep you posted if I decide to do it or not.  Oh yeah, and no oxygen tanks because I’m using blow torches.