Hazardous Road Ahead

I’m shortly about to begin a very hazardous trip. I get the feeling that I may not make it. There’s so much I wanted to say and do that will go undone now if I’m fated to meet my end. So, in the few minutes I have before losing touch with the blogosphere, at least, let me say a few things.

I would like my kid to know that I love her very much. Since I don’t believe in a Great Beyond, (unless it includes unlimited sea-salted Wendy’s fries, in which case, I’m on board,) I would ask that you tell her this for me and direct her to this blog. Tell her what you remember about me. Please be sure she can look at the thousands of e-mails and the journal that was to make up my book on the divorce. She should have the ammunition to at least understand. Please let her read at least some of the more appropriate e-mails between us, if not now, then when she’s ready. I’m counting on you, as I said I would, like the Godfather counted on the undertaker, to grant me this favour, because I have faith that you can overcome any butt-holio-ness that gets in your way and because I would do it for you.

Call my brother and tell him for me that I feel sorry for him, that he couldn’t delude himself long enough to realise that it would be possible to actually enjoy stuff because in the end, it’s all irrelevant once we shuffle off this mortal coil. All the suffering in the world need not be yours. Really: get a grip, J, your time is nearly done. Okay, you’re a brilliant guy or, if not, then at least in the top two percent on the planet and if that’s still sad, go play some volleyball on a beach somewhere because why the f*ck not?

I made plenty of mistakes in my life, most out of fear, some out of stupidity and many because I just didn’t “get it” in that special, EST-ian way. I’m sorry that I hurt whomever crossed my path. Please understand that I did so not out of malice but out of fear. I’m actually not a massive dick. Or, rather, I may be a massive dick, but with a heart of gold.

This is all too short, but I have to go now. They’re giving me the two-minute warning, apparently.

It would have been nice to be with all of you one more time, give you all one more hug, tell you one more joke, share one more meal. It would have been nice. Instead, let me share this typically unsolicited and characteristically obvious advice: stay warm, except when you’re trying to be cool. Be well, except when you’re doing something sick. Never, ever, ever buy, make, wear or display anything with the phrase, “Live, Love, Laugh”‘ because if you need a slogan to remind you that this is what you should be doing, you’re probably too stupid to keep breathing. Luge like there’s no tomorrow. And it really is all small sh*t.

Dammit. No more edits. No more hidden messages or unintended double-meanings. No words powerful enough to change what will be. See you on the other side . . .

Yes, I know how to use an ellipsis. Geez.

I think I hear a helicopter. That’s my cue.

Ciao, America!