Crazy rant written at 10:15-10:30 am on New Years 2006

Andrew Hall



I had an image of suicide, the revolver against forehead, the explosion, the slight possibility of an accidental miss, I wasn't contemplating it, which I am doing now, I was merely having an image. After all, it is the image that matters, right? I was thinking, how am I gonna put this in my poem, and if I do, will people get worried that I am suicidal, but you see, I contemplate suicide every day. It is a word, actually sounds pretty like Sushi, or Sue, like a sprightly girl. Everyday I think of suicide, it doesn't mean I want to do it, maybe I want you to do it, it just exists, or rather ceases to exist. I also can't help but wonder if it will help my poetry career. I keep getting rejected... but after a good suicide, I can see my mother taking my blood covered manuscripts around to see if there are any takers. The tragic woefulness of my mother will help make me a literary legend, like John Kennedy O’Toole, even if I am not good... How can they turn down a grieving old lady? Those bastards! Anyhow, I don't think I will commit suicide, rather, if it happens, it will be like an impulse, something instinctual, as if I were a lemming, and I just happen to jump off a cliff. I do like to hike, but I am not into bungee jumping with an umbilical cord, or hang gliding like an imbecile. ...O Lord, I never even thought the sun was that hot, so why would I want to fly there? Every night when I go to sleep, I die, and the next morning, at the break of day, 2 pm, or whenever, I live a new lifetime, a new 24 hour life, arbitrary, cyclical, but rather efficient. It is like I have something in common with Celine Dion. We both have A NEW DAY. Only, Celine Dion has more money for her days, and I spend my new day, contemplating suicide, because I am deep. Not to mention the Mash Theme Song, but I don't believe that Suicide is painless, because if it were, then everybody would be doing it. It would be bigger than the Twist! The population of earth would dwindle to just a few people. Like Celine Dion, if you were my lady, and I was your man...I would commit suicide, but my heart would go on.

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