Friday, January 25, 2047

According to the insurance actuarial chart I have that’s the day I’m gonna die. How’s that for a kick in the ass. As of this writing I would have 14364 days left to live. That doesn’t seem like a lot to me. Hell it took me 13578 just to get here. What the fuck does one do with this kind of information? Do I get philosophical and ponder my place in the universe? Do I resolve myself to “live each day!”? Perhaps I should find religion to ease my soul as I am faced with my mortality. Or maybe I should just say fuck it all and break whatever rules I want in a non-stop festival of debauchery?

We all know I’m not doing anything like that crap. All of those pre-supposes that I haven’t faced my own mortality or that my death is something that scares me. What horseshit. I have bumped inot death so many times that we are practically drinking buddies. This belief that death is something outside of life, an “uncharted country”, is just nonsense. Life is death in slow motion. It’s the quality of life that should always be the issue not when it will end. Don’t get me wrong I’m in no hurry to end it all, quite the opposite actually. Now that life is so good I would like to enjoy it for a bit but having a number placed on it, a due date, is a bit strange. It makes me want to prove the chart wrong. To live longer that the 76 years it gives me. I could also get hit by a bus and screw the chart up for everybody. Wouldn’t that suck?

What to do with this info? I’m gonna do what I always do only now I have a better idea of when the last act should start.

ON a similar note dig the picture below.