| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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or the ones that i write and then change. les paul. |
now, i've got the funniest story for y'all. it's about when my dad died. he must've died in his sleep and mom must've woken up to him that way. she usually wakes up at 5 or 6 in the morning, but she waited till 7:20 before she felt comfortable bothering me about it. so i get this call, "hello, raymond? are you going to work this morning?"--"yes mamma, i am"--"well, could you come over before you go; i think your father died last night". i told her i'd be right there. at the time i was living miles away from her, but she still had to act like i only had to do it if it was convenient! anyway, i get there and she takes me into the bedroom. my dad's tucked in bed very neatly, and just looks dead. i don't know anything about this crap, but i start feeling for his pulse just because i think i should do something. i felt his head and he was cold. then i noticed something; i said, why's the rest of him warm, mamma? she said, "i left the electric blanket on him." so we called medstar. two paramedic guys came over and started looking over dad. one of them said, "i'm going to have to try to resucitate him." I said, what the hell are you talking about! he's been dead for hours! he said it was procedure. i looked at him said, look, here's my procedure - if you touch my father i'll break your neck. he looked back at me - this small, thin guy - and said, "you're right, he's dead." |
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got my jandek album yesterday. the guitar sounds like a drunk who couldn't play started picking random notes on a guitar that hadn't been tuned for months. but the result is hypnotic, even when i was - surprisingly - not drunk. |
he and his wife were together since they were teens. they were inseparable. we drove to athens, ga over the weekend to be with her. it happened while we were in costa rica so we missed the funeral. its hard to process. something in him clicked in recent years. alcohol all of sudden produced a highly depressed and hurt monster. he got sober but relapsed. he couldnt take it any more. he was present enough to give his wife one of the best weekends ever prior. i think he saw relief in sight. i envision the horror it must have been. going through the steps of buying a shot gun. getting a hotel room. writing the letter that no one can read just yet. watching what is apparently one of the most vivid and horrific films about death (Ingmar Bergmans Seventh Seal, he was a cine and audiofile archivist), playing his guitar and then after sometime, calmly telling the cops he didnt want to talk, didnt want his wife to see him that way. laying in his bed saturday night we couldent sleep. she gave us a portable DVD player. We pulled out the DVD in it. It was the aforementioned movie. The screen didnt work. It was as the top was slammed down or it was thrown across the room. Or so I imagine. The DVD player played its last DVD. He eventually put the shotgun to use. Its been said that perhaps there was relief. Relief from the suffering of depression, the relief he thought he was eventually be bringing his wife. over the weekend we had some wine and smoked some pot. she was able to laugh, drink and eat for the first time in weeks. |