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Suicide and Kate Spade
Jun. 6th, 2018 07:30 amI guess you never really know, right?
The happy pix on Facebook and Instagram: ME and my fabulous accoutrements! (Spouse, sex partners, pets, baby, garden, kitchen appliances, new car.)
Even if they’re within the circle of real-time friends. Even if you talk to them regularly.
You never know unless you observe them carefully.
But isn’t that why we have Facebook and Google and the government? To observe us carefully?
She kept watching the television news report of Robin Williams’ death and watching it over and over. I think the plan was already in motion even as far back as then.
I was just stunned when I read the news.
It was such a big deal for me when I saved up enough money to buy one of her purses.
They were so well designed.
And I listened to a podcast, How I Built This, where she and her husband – also her business partner – talked about the fashion empire they had built together, and I'd thought: They’re making money, and they're having fun!
Rest in peace, Kate Spade.
###
There isn’t a single day when I don’t think about suicide.
And I am neither mentally ill nor depressed.
Being alive has just never seemed like such a great deal to me. I have no earth signs in my astrological chart, so the sensual pleasures that come from being incorporated in a body have never held the allure for me that they seem to hold for other people.
I can remember, once, in the grip of an intense orgasm, thinking, Now! Exactly why is my body codifying this as pleasure? It’s just neuronal synapses programming muscles to contract and hormones to release! And then, of course, I couldn’t have another orgasm for several months afterwards!
No, it seems to me that the greatest human pleasures are always associated with biological determinism: I am fuckin’ better than you! I can beat you at – [your activity goes here.]
And I mean, really. Who wants to do that? I’ve never understood why competition is any fun at all.
Life is just filled with pain. If you’re not feeling it now, if you’re not experiencing each day as a mosaic of small sorrows, it’s because the pain and the sorrow is saving itself up for you, to come down on your head in one big wallop of the hammer all at once.
I don’t kill myself because I believe in reincarnation. Every life is a kind of class. You are learning the skills that will allow your essence to float in the realm of pure energy where you will still have consciousness but it won’t be attached to deadweights like ego. If you interrupt the lesson plan prematurely, you will have to repeat it. (In the context of this belief, I spend a great deal of time pondering the ethics of assisted suicide.)
###
Poor Kate Spade, I think. You are only going to come back and do the whole thing over again. What a bitch.
The happy pix on Facebook and Instagram: ME and my fabulous accoutrements! (Spouse, sex partners, pets, baby, garden, kitchen appliances, new car.)
Even if they’re within the circle of real-time friends. Even if you talk to them regularly.
You never know unless you observe them carefully.
But isn’t that why we have Facebook and Google and the government? To observe us carefully?
She kept watching the television news report of Robin Williams’ death and watching it over and over. I think the plan was already in motion even as far back as then.
I was just stunned when I read the news.
It was such a big deal for me when I saved up enough money to buy one of her purses.
They were so well designed.
And I listened to a podcast, How I Built This, where she and her husband – also her business partner – talked about the fashion empire they had built together, and I'd thought: They’re making money, and they're having fun!
Rest in peace, Kate Spade.
###
There isn’t a single day when I don’t think about suicide.
And I am neither mentally ill nor depressed.
Being alive has just never seemed like such a great deal to me. I have no earth signs in my astrological chart, so the sensual pleasures that come from being incorporated in a body have never held the allure for me that they seem to hold for other people.
I can remember, once, in the grip of an intense orgasm, thinking, Now! Exactly why is my body codifying this as pleasure? It’s just neuronal synapses programming muscles to contract and hormones to release! And then, of course, I couldn’t have another orgasm for several months afterwards!
No, it seems to me that the greatest human pleasures are always associated with biological determinism: I am fuckin’ better than you! I can beat you at – [your activity goes here.]
And I mean, really. Who wants to do that? I’ve never understood why competition is any fun at all.
Life is just filled with pain. If you’re not feeling it now, if you’re not experiencing each day as a mosaic of small sorrows, it’s because the pain and the sorrow is saving itself up for you, to come down on your head in one big wallop of the hammer all at once.
I don’t kill myself because I believe in reincarnation. Every life is a kind of class. You are learning the skills that will allow your essence to float in the realm of pure energy where you will still have consciousness but it won’t be attached to deadweights like ego. If you interrupt the lesson plan prematurely, you will have to repeat it. (In the context of this belief, I spend a great deal of time pondering the ethics of assisted suicide.)
###
Poor Kate Spade, I think. You are only going to come back and do the whole thing over again. What a bitch.
