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Yeah, the username.

 I'll explain it: I was lying awake thinking of a medication or quack remedy for the "death instinct," and I named it Thanatol.  I thought this would be a longer explanation, but I'm glad it's succinct. 

Speaking of death, I've been meaning to chisel my Mao cat a tombstone for about four months now, but I think my grandfather should get one before my cat because he's been gone a year now. The first time I visited him, I felt like a nice walk and was confident I'd sort of remember where he was and find him, eventually.

After about two hours of cemetery hiking in many aimless directions, to the apparent amusement and curiosity of some random guy sitting on top of a mausoleum, I gave up. I didn't realize that sometimes it takes months, apparently, for tombstones to be put in place.

A while later I went back and did the exact same thing again, but this time there wasn't anyone staring at me, fortunately.

So the next time, a few months later, I was determined. It was my grandad's birthday, I had a flower in my hand that I had gone to like three stores to find, and I did not feel like hiking. So I went to the funeral home and made them give me a map of where he was. When I got there, I still couldn't find him, and this only led to a couple of minutes of me getting this weird feeling that he didn't "want" to be found, before I finally realized that I was looking at bare ground where he was, but it was completely unmarked. So I looked confused and indignant for a minute, thought about how they buried him only in his hospital nightgown, felt more indignant, dropped the flower on the ground and left.

A few weeks ago, checked again out of curiosity, still no nothing. Perhaps I should confront my family about this weirdness?


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Mar. 9th, 2011 08:02 am (UTC)
that's fucked up. yes, you should say something to someone.

i'm even more appalled to hear he was buried in his hospital gown. that is just wrong.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )



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