“My brain is one fucked-up crib, a prison, a poison, my punishment for having been born and for having survived” is much of what her mental drooling amounts to as she scans her immediate surroundings for a gentle and kind distraction from the general agony of life.
Crumpled amidst dirty underwear on the bathroom floor, Marie-Claire beckons. (There is no small prose, only small readers) With here toes, she flips it open.
“Playing Dead: Would faking your own funeral make you work harder at your job?”
Well I do not have a job. Make me work harder at being alive? How exactly do you mean, Abigail Haworth of Marie-Claire dispatch?
“New Korean services allow employees to experience their own deaths – right down to writing their eulogies, choosing their song lists and lying in a coffin with the lid slammed shut. The idea is that pretending to be dead helps workers appreciate the “preciousness” of life – and, hopefully, increase their corporate productivity as well.”
Hmm. Preciousness of life. Think of flowers in the rain, doves soaring, palm in beak, over dawn-lit seascapes. Not quite me. Corporate productivity. The absolute anti-thesis of me.
But hey, that is a nice idea for a playlist: “I-die” or better still “Each dawn: I-die”, maybe our New Master of the Known Universe also known as Steve Jobs could come up with an underground-death-simulating device you would wear on your third eye when you take a nap. It would fuck with your sense of balance, gravity and direction, give you a little epileptic jolt, have you listen to a couple of brain-wave realigning tracks and send you on your way back to work, refreshed, recalibrated, with a renewed sense of purpose. Plus it would come in seven cool metallic colors and charge directly on your I phone.
“Simulating your own death motivates people to make each day more fulfilling.” “After writing their last testament, clients lie in a dark coffin for 10 minutes and experience an intense moment of self-reflection”