Complex Numbers

Last Words

PROMPT September 6th

I have long adored the practice on WDC of memorializing the portfolios of members who have passed away so all their writings remain visible without needing a membership. See: "White Case Memorial"  and "Request a Deceased Member Be Memorialized" 

Do you hope to be remembered for your writing? What do you think your writings will say about you when you’re gone? Is your WDC portfolio in suitable shape to be memorialized tomorrow if you were no longer around to tend it?

A while back, I changed my handle to something unutterably silly for a time. I don't even remember what it was - let's say it was Fluffy Bunnykins. So there I was, Fluffy Bunnykins, when it hit me: what if I die tonight? And then my portfolio gets memorialized forever as Fluffy Bunnykins. Not that I ever expect to be taken seriously, but that would just add insult to the injury of my croaking. I made sure to tell my friends to have someone change my handle back to Robert Waltz if that happened. Knowing my friends, though, they'd probably change it to Dead Bunny.

It's the unavoidable reality of life that any of us could die at any time, with or without warning. Rogue seagull invasion. Falling piano. Too much sex. Quantum fluctuation. Whatever. We all know this, at some level, though most of us would rather die at 99, drunk and surrounded by hot sexy scantily-clad women wailing at the terrible loss. Or, I don't know, is that just me? Point being, while we know this, it's probably unhealthy to obsess about it. That's why comedy exists - to take our minds off that sort of thing. Because this might be the last sentence I ever write. Or this one. Or maybe this one. No? Okay, cool.

That said, there's not a whole lot in my life that's in good shape for my inevitable demise. Whenever I think about that sort of thing, though, I become aware not only of my own mortality, but of the sheer amount of work involved in preparing for it: finding a godparent for my cats; cleaning my room; making sure the stove's off; securing my porn from accidental discovery; keeping my vast fortune out of the hands of my ex-wife; making my WDC portfolio easier to navigate; arranging for a good home for my liquor collection... the list seems endless. And then I break out in hives, because I'm allergic to work.

On one hand, I won't care, because "I" won't be around to care. On the other hand, I'm creating work for other people, and that seems wrong.

Some years ago, as I recall, someone on this site died suddenly. Morbidly curious, I checked out their blog. Their final entry ended with "Life seems good." To my shame, I can't remember their name - I don't think they were ever whitecased - but I don't think I can ever forget those particular "last words."

With my luck, mine will be something like "See you tomorrow!" Only with a typo. Because I hate when I make typos, so that's precisely what I don't want to be remembered for.

See you tommorrow!