I may be a member but there are some things up with which I will not put pt.6

Lately it seems that my life's experiences have tended towards the negative. Fortune, it seems, scantly favours the bold. I have never been a believer in destiny though I have come to notice myself serendipitously searching unfortunate events. Every cloud must have a silver lining, afterall. It was up until yesterday that I had found something worthwhile in all the ghoulish happenings of late. I can no longer view the world with a smug (thanks ManorXic, you've given that word meaning again) smile nor walk with a skip in my step. It seems I've learned a valueable lesson that may have reprocussions on the promised 764 volumes of member threads.

It seems an all too familiar setting for most people. As we age, the feelings and emotions experienced at funerals and all the events that accompany them become common, and perhaps easier to understand. I've not been to any more or fewer funerals than you lot have. We've all been to our fair share. "And there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth", right? This particular funeral was an all together new experience for me. This time I wept and gnashed, but in a completely different and disturbingly wicked manner. The man who died meant nothing to me. It is modern convention that says when you are asked for support at a funeral you must provide it. My support through the process was requested.

The man who asked could be called a family friend. That, unwillingly, is how I politely introduced myself at the wake. The smile with which I met members of his family bared clenched teeth. Underneath my fresh shell existed a sweaty and hoplessly enraged self. I hate this man and I care not that his father died. I did not find myself in the midst of him and his as a result of sympathy, or empathy. Nor of love, hate, or indifference. But of modern convention. Serendipity morbidly abandons modern convention, and thus abandoned me, leaving me standing there helpless, hopeless, and desperate. Though many familiar faces and polite introductions ought to have made the situation bearable, I felt absolutely no consolation.

The night could not have ended promptly enough. And for the very first time in my pathetic life I wondered to myself if there were things, up with which, now, I must put.

The funeral was this morning. The anarchic sadism I commonly depend on for laughter told me to protest. In this manner I dressed. Messy hair, wrinkled suit, clashing tie, and lint filled pockets were the most I could muster. I would have done more but my spirits, as low as they sat, were further crushed when I learned the death parade would take me into a Roman Catholic Church.

I understand the Faith more than most people. I respect it as I respect all major philosophical fields of thought. I am, though, no longer Catholic.

There in my wrinkled suit I entered the house of God without the proper signs of respect. Glances with the funeral party were exchanged at which point the heat of my rage and helplessness showed its ferocity. For a moment I lost my mind. My eyes darted around the large hall looking for any sign of sanity. In a desperate search for anything that might take my mind off the morbid humour of the situation, a single note snatched me out of hell. It was not my eyes but my ears that saved me. A familiarity that had been bred into me at an early age, none the less viceral, swept over me as the church organ began and a single voice sang words I'd heard before.

For a brief second I thought serendipity had found me again.

Then, as if Stanley Kubrick himself were the devil incarnate, an image of the character Alex sitting in the Korova Milkbar, sharpening himself for a little bit of the old ultra-violence, flashed in my mind, dragging me back into the hell that this sullen convention had thrust me. It was not the content of my thoughts at that moment that frightened me but the cause of them.

... and then there was weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Heck of an experience, had any like it?

 

hey! it had paragraphs and breaks, but i still didn't read it.

 

Could somebody read that and give me a summary please?

 

oh come on, I even read it and I'm lazy, there were some good descriptions in there, would have helped if I'd seen clockwork orange, but I haven't so there you are.....

 

nah. sounded philisophical and deep when i skimmed for the big words

 

I didn't read it either. You guys have the right idea for sure though. We need a summary please

 

TSH,

Drink your favourite wine and have sex with hot women. It's not about religion. You can't take these things with you when you die. Shouldn't the main focus of life be to live and enjoy it? Tell me one thing thats more important than that?

 

titties and beer. that works for me. and that's TWO!!

 

You like titties and beer? Do you have any sisters?

 

el vino and el pussy, eh?

The main focus of life ought to be alive and enjoy. There is nothing more important than that. That post was just to relay my personal discovery of how the planets can align to ensure that I would not be able to enjoy life for a short while, even with the keenest of silver lined eyes. It was new to me. And very frustrating. Very tough on, and very good for the mind, I think.

 

God fucking damn it, Im so confused.

 

Did you feel like you were betraying yourself by being there? I mean it was obviously a situation where you weren't free to be yourself.


Like the act of showing up there made you feel phony? a little hypocritical maybe?

Like convention is this picture of Chairman Mao and we have to smile and salute it even if we'd rather burn it.

 

That was exteremly raw, yet eloquently delivered



Very Kafka.

 

Blow it out your ass, motorcycle man! I mean, I am the Devil!
Do you understand?
Just what will you give me
For your
Titties and beer?
I suppose you noticed this little contract here...

 

I think I left my brain in Wal Mart ... I can;t figure out what this thread is even about.

 

Funerals can sometimes elevate you...

I think i spoke about this in my "nobody ever talks about death" thread, but death connects us back to our origin, birth, the circle and eternity.

Anyway, its 1am so im too tired to talk further on the matter(thank the planets, or God)...Was very well written though i enjoyed.

Xx

 

I'm not sure if I should feel honoured or humiliated.

 

GOD FUCKING DAMN IT





























































I just wanted to say god fucking damn it.

 

Phony? Hypocritical? No sir.

It was an intensely visceral experience.

 

You need a pistol and one bullet with your name on it, or did I mis-read?