Friday, July 30, 2010

Friday Entry

December 1
Went to the grocery store today. Now that everything-is-pumpkin-flavored season is over, I'm not sure I can face the impending months of clove-less coffee. Guess it's as good a time as any to finally go through with this suicide thing. At least my death'll get lost among all the other holiday-driven suicides and DUIs and no one will make a fuss. Having your funeral around Christmas must be like having your birthday in December, huh?

December 5
Wrote the first draft of my suicide note today. It's lacking something, I think. A pithy closing line? Transitions could use some polishing. Maybe I should just write something like, "Brevity is the soul of wit," disguise my laziness as whimsical impertinence. God, writing this suicide note is making me so depressed I could just kill myself. Ha ha ha! Maybe the New Yorker was doing me a fucking favor by being "regretfully unable to find use for [my] articles."

December 9
This is taking as much planning as the goddam holiday card mailing. There's no backing out now though; I haven't bought a single present. At least one thing I can look forward to is my last meal. Oo, you know what'd be great? I lobster stuffed with filet mignon sitting on a bed of saffron risotto with little sparklers where his antennae should be. Also there should be a tiny champagne glass poised in his claw. Damn, The Castle knows how to make a guy feel like a king, even when he's feeling suicidal.

December 11
Looks like Castle's booked up through New Year's. Probably for the best, since I'd rather not be found in a pool of my own feces. New plan: Fast for a few days to empty my bowels, and weather the whole postmortem colon-relaxation-shit-yourself thing with dignity. Speaking of vacating your bowels, I should erase my browser's history. Putting it on the list.

December 14
Just found a syntactical error while proofreading my note. THAT would've been embarrassing. My legacy, rent by a split infinitive. They might as well put a dangling modifier in my epitaph or spell my name wrong in the obits.

December 15
Can't make up my mind between injecting myself with air or heroin. But then I got distracted by that Google thing where you type the first part and it suggests the rest of the sentence, you know? "How to kill" came up with "stink bugs" as the first option. How hilarious is that?!
[lapse in writing]
Martha's nephew just told me that trick was "played." Smartass. He can't even regulate his own glucose levels. What he doesn't know is that insulin can be a very effective and painless way to die....Problem solved. Looks like the blood'll be on your hands, little Lucas.


[PS In all seriousness, click here for a similar article that's actually funny, sympathetic, and well-written; any complaints should be alleviated.]

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