Tag Archives: avoiding death

I Got Cancelled

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My sister stopped engaging with me several years ago. “My therapist thinks it’s better this way.” My brother decided the same this past Christmas. “You’re no fun to talk to.”

Linked as children by our sweaters. (Columbia Icefield, 1972)

I had never got along exceptionally well with either of them, but I did strive to maintain at least a superficial relationship, if not for anything else, to stay connected with my nephews and nieces. I haven’t seen my sister’s son since he was seven; he’s now finishing his undergraduate degree in Italy.

The final descent of my sister’s Iron Curtain was triggered after our mother’s death, the last of the preceding generation, meaning there was now no one to say no.

My mother in the backyard of my childhood home in Toronto

The odd thing about this is that we all share financial stability as well as similar social and political grounding. There are no real axes to grind, no addictions or houses burned down. The main point of contention stems from 2006 when I sublet my sister’s Manhattan apartment and a couple of curse-laden messages were left by my former girlfriend on her answering machine.

My sister arranged a group therapy session with my brother and I. The session foundered the moment the therapist instructed us to step back from our conflict and share a personal issue with which we struggled. I shared my regret about never having children. My brother offered that he could get frustrated with fund-raising issues at his linguistics lab. My sister’s answer was exceptionally terse. “There’s nothing.” “Nothing at all?” The therapist prodded. “Nothing at all.”

My penchant for getting buried began in Anna Maria Key, Florida

I should have seen the writing on the wall at that moment, but I also knew that her operating mechanism was to avoid emotions at all costs. Which of course leads to my cancellation, a choice that’s not actually surprising given our current cultural climate.

No matter the reason – difference of opinion or indifference – our odd world continues to devolve into a social media platform where faces are deleted, voices silenced with a tap on the screen. Different perspectives aren’t negotiated but blocked, the sphere ever smaller, down the worm hole with the AI avatars, where the friendliest and most wonderful perspective of all are offered, where friends and brothers are always compliant and understanding, where my sister is probably talking to her new AI brother now. That jerk.

I’m Just Saying, Mother

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Hello? Yes, mother? What’s that? You’re worried about me? Okay, me too. But…I’m worried about you too. I get that you’re into this knowing life thing, growing babies, losing your figure and all that, but that doesn’t mean…That’s what I’m saying. There’s dark matter and things like that. No, you don’t know about that. You don’t.

Greenlandic painting in Ilulissat

I know it’s not fair. You taught me about life not being fair, remember? But all this goddess stuff, I mean, it’s like father being strong and smart. He gave up on that a long time ago. Anyway, yes, my point! Watch out for Hubris, okay? And always being in control. It’s a bad look. Just saying. Love you too, Ma.

Miserable? Don’t Talk About it.

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“How are you doing?” Yeah, well, I have this thing with the night sweats and being unable to stop my brain and not knowing what the hell is going on with my life and thinking I’m just not where I should be. But aside from that, well, yeah, all is good.

No one wants to hear about it. I sure as hell don’t. Nobody does. Not even the Facebook algorithm. (They blocked my previous post about the Anti-Wilhelm Grunt, implying that I was suicidal. Got to think about that one.)

I knew a guy from Croatia named Milan who complained about everything.

“How are you doing, Milan?”

“Well, I’ve got the rash on my arm. And my knee is a little tight. And my digestion. Never been worse.”

I never asked him again. It’s just a pleasantry and we should just all get it together and move on. It’s a new day. We’re alive and the sun is shining. Even if it isn’t.

Post a lovely picture of food and talk about an exciting new series. And what about getting laid! There’s music and dreams and amazing new things to come. And what about getting laid?!?! Who cares if we all sound like cows in the field waiting to get slaughtered? Relax. Look on the cud side.

So, yeah, it’s okay to be down. It’s okay to talk about it. Just nobody will listen. Including me.

Aqaara Scene: “Sex to Avoid Death”

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The crowd was larger, people up both walkways, chants and holograms everywhere. A bright orange drone floated above, slowly coming down.

“Hello, how are you doing?” It was the man from the Hive, now dressed and atop a glider, floating behind the drone.

“Want me to smash that thing?”

“We’re making a film,” he replied.

Dee frowned.

“Name’s Norich.” He raised his eyebrows at her as he glided down. “How would you feel about me filming you now?”

“For what?”

“A document.”

“For your personal pleasure?”

“Sort of Cinema Verite.” The camera-drone, an orange sloped contraption, floated down over his shoulder. “I’m examining the nature of The Hive for the Ark News. The impetus of that, right? I’m thinking individually, right? Why do we do the things we do?” He looked half drunk, the way he glanced back and forth between them. “Like, what is to experience it?”

Dee shrugged. “Go ahead and try it.”

He landed, leaning forward, wincing at the effort to think of an answer that could not be deflected. “Wisdom, knowledge, that is very human.”

Dee studied his long face, almost earnest, knowing he wanted to listen, his hands open in front of him, waiting for something. “Sex, that’s what I think you’re after, sex and more of it.” Aqaara Scene: "Sex to Avoid Death"Norich nodded back at her. “You know how people say that men want to have sex with young women to avoid their fear of death? That gorgeous taut flesh, so primal and real, the dream of the boy through the old man, it’s got nothing to do with dying, my friend. It’s just being alive, that sexual drive, mindless and direct. But to avoid death? No, it’s not that. Everything is to avoid death. Eating, drinking, going to the bathroom—”

“What about good driving habits then?” Dee added.

“That’s sure as hell part of it, awareness of what you are – your limitations, that you have a perspective, that you’re aware that we tend to think that we know something—”

“You men?”

“Us people. That we know something that no one else can exactly understand. Even with as much as anyone might know, in their mind for a certainty, whatever is gathered through books and media, experience, relationships, there’s only that, only that perspective.”

“Humility then,” Dee ventured.

“Yes, that’s part of it.”

“I think what you really mean is sex,” Dee concluded. “And the answer is no.”

“It’s more our limitations.” Norich tried to pat her on the shoulder. “It’s all about being aware of that.”

“So we’re in agreement then.” Dee went past him into The Hive.