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Derrick Harrison Hurd

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March 5, 2024 11:29 am

GO OUT AND LIVE FOR ME I sense a shift ... an easing of the climate change and hatred as virtue signaling ... things are not so profoundly upside-down that acceptance of THIS IS HOW IT IS has yet fo... View MoreGO OUT AND LIVE FOR ME I sense a shift ... an easing of the climate change and hatred as virtue signaling ... things are not so profoundly upside-down that acceptance of THIS IS HOW IT IS has yet followed the other (of the five) stages of death: anger, denial, bargaining; and depression. Death having been completely misunderstood. My experience with the afterlife should be encouraging to read ... I have danced with death a dozen times and more than once was swept away ... it's not like you can ever go home again exactly after that ... but it's not like being gone either. I'm nothing like the crazy homeless drone I was on drugs ... that's a life I shudder at reviewing for the sheer sickly slow absolute erosion of integrity ... I'm not the fraud I was in all my artificial glory as a local celebrity anymore ... nor am I the good kid that loved his grandmother and wanted her to live forever ... ... or the selfless soldier on the front lines of the REEKING hospices in the AIDS years (a death in a way of a culture too comfortable with lies) ... where the dying were stored briefly in agony before a paupers burial (the family did not attended) with a lot of yellow helium balloons ... wafting away to kill pigeons which subsequently GOTHICALLY fell from the sky ... a cluster of plagues to manage in pastels. Free to be young at a banquet of self-expression one day and the next: a blind, arthritic drooling old man at seventeen sleeping in his own elimination ... a metaphor for an unannounced but mutilating change in the rules of sexuality ... ... “There is something you CANNOT DO, only one ... and the whole thing goes away ... so DON'T DO IT" ... Easy for you to say ... ... you didn't just find your core being, you haven't just seen the face of God, divine and terrible ... Deny it? ... Would you? ... ... Proud now? Of what? ... Sex kills. Same with the drug years too ... late stage deaths are pathos-intensive facsimiles of the first one ... and, for what it's worth, sometimes as a welcome relief. My grandmother used to visit me at night after she died and as a consequence I became very hard to rouse from sleep. Alarmingly so and barely functional when awake. Kids, in those days, didn't go to psychiatrists, only crazy rich people did that ... to deal with midlife crisis ... ... but I found myself there in a sterile white room crowded with Certificates telling the truth about my grandmother ... secrets ... which the doctor wanted to treat with drugs. But, I refused to take them ... I wasn't going to die for them at the age of eight ... I wasn't alive when she wasn't there. It was she that finally said she had to go and forever did, "Good-bye Ricky ... for me ... go out and live" ... the car would not crunch the gravel on the driveway anymore, no more happy greetings at the door with a night of love ahead, so pure, so perfect ... ... nothing there where it should be and that's how it was going to be forever ... I moved on. Death number two still ahead ... the truth is: One thing just follows another in life ... even death. I sense a shift. Chronicles of the Fall

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