That's It, Everybody Out Of The Fucking Pool

"I can't stand what's happening to me"
— Entire suicide note left behind by Robert Hastings, age 23. Death by hanging, Rosewood, Mass., 2002. Note pinned to jacket.

Suicide is always called "the coward's way out", but nothing could be further from the truth. It's one of those sayings that people hear so often that they don't even bother to question it, like "rape is about power, not sex". Imagine the guts, the fortitude needed to decide to check out forever and to actually do it. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200, go directly to Dead. Dying is probably the hardest thing you'll ever do, and most people die passively.

Fourteen year old kid in my hometown hopped the railroad fence and when the 3:46 express to Grand Central was about to pass by, he laid his head down on the tracks. I was maybe 24 when this happened, so I didn't know the kid, but my sister knew him. Coward's way out? Mister, that's about the bravest thing I've ever heard.

I'm taking a break from writing. I can't really think very clearly. I don't know if some biological imperative has flipped a switch in my mind over to "caregiver", draining power from everything else. Or maybe getting woken up three times a night is causing the deleterious effect that I've noticed. I went back over a half-dozen books that I chewed through this summer, mostly political science and social policy, and I can't even make sense of them. I think Flowers for Algernon resonated with just about everyone who ever read it; if you're not the readin' type, think about the episode of the Simpsons where Homer has Moe pound the blue crayon back up his nose and into his brain.

So, I'm happy to post pics, if anyone wants 'em. Old ones, new ones, brown ones, blue ones. I just may not write for a while, because I can't stand what is happening to me.