A Few Quick Pointers:

Hi. Welcome to the blog I wrote with uncanny timing just a few HOURS/ DAYS/ MONTHS/ YEARS/ DECADES* before my untimely death. [ * SELECT ALL THAT APPLY ]

The blog wherein I instruct you all in how to undertake the details of my lavish State Funeral. First off, I know you’ll be in shock and all that, but cheer up – I promise there will be cake afterwards. Tea & Cake. Cake & Death. Death and Coffee. Coffee or Tea? Look, I’m sure you’ll manage all that just fine. Let’s roll along to more symbolic details, rituals and utterly ridiculous requirements.

(1) Attire: I don’t want to see anyone wearing black – unless it nicely sets off a floral morning coat or a natty pair of pink spats. We do agree, don’t we, darling? That black is the perfect colour to help your choice of Pink to really shout! So go hard, darlings! I want to see some feather-boas, lots of bow-ties, ruffles, an entire platoon of pink top-hats – with feathers! Pink, pink pink; 50-shades of pink! Anywhere you can fly the Flag upon your person. Yeah!

(2) Trolls. All trolls will be welcome; the more the merrier. If you’re short by a few, come around at once and get some off my famous shelves. They’ll want to be there for this!

(3) Coffin. Hopefully the’ll be a few scraps of me left to toss into the traditional box. But please – a simple pine box (un-treated, organic, and “hand-crafted by artisans”, plz), and then I want you all to write, draw, or paint on it. Express your feelings! Expletives welcome! And add some eccentric clutter, do! Glue it or screw it. Yes – add a bit of yourself, your visual art or your burning words (please refrain from actually setting it alight, is all we ask). I’m really going for ‘photogenic’ here, NOT house-&-Garden, okay?

(4) Video and Stills. All funerals do this now, but I’m anxious that there won’t be enough photos of me to fill the whole 10 hours. Do your best!

(5) Things To Say. Be warned: there are some common funeral quotes that shit me off. Use any of them and I promise: I’m come back and haunt you forever, AND ruin your funeral, IF NOT actually climbing out of my untreated artisanal coffin and smacking you!
But let’s be proactive, shall we? Let’s present them in order; thus you’ve been forewarned and fore-armed with something better and healthier to say.

(5A) “We Are Not Here to Grieve… we are here to Celebrate a Life.” .. BULLSHIT. Funerals are about grief. Anything else is denialism of the worst kind. As to the ‘celebrate’-y part: Please, do not celebrate my life. It was an cock-up from the get-go! See 5D.

(5B) “It was a Life Well-lived.” No no no it was not! It was a cock-up of the highest order. See 5D.

(5C) “Never speak ill of the Dead.” Oh, seriously? Please – DO! Speak the truth here, my impacts good and bad. I WAS NOT PERFECT! I WAS DIFFICULT TO LIVE WITH! I WAS ANNOYING! I COCKED UP! OKAY?!

(5D): Please read the following statement from the deceased: Cheers.

“My friends, cuzzies and bros, closest family, Here is a fact: – I – wasted – my – life. I utterly cocked it up. Every major life-decision I made, all of them, were stuff-ups. For starters I wasted my innate gifts and talents. most of them. One by one I threw them aside: Maths, Physics, Chemistry, Graphic Art, Logic, Computer Programming, and the ability to visualise and rotate complex 3-dimensional shapes inside my brain. Hah: even Spock couldn’t do that one!

I was programming computers in 1971. I was good at it! Threw it away. At University I achieved a perfect 100 in one of my Logic exam. Threw it away. I was invited to consider an honours degree in Physics. bject!) Threw it away. .. Architecture – I walked out.

Offers, Opportunities, Openings, Job-interviews, Promotions … I fudged them all, I walked out. At every turn I backed away from success. I backed away from achievement; from responsibility; from ‘Adulting’. Every single thing I decided to pursue, all the big ones: they turned to crap. I made sure of it. And I screwed up fatherhood too. Seriously: I achieved a tenth or a hundredth of what I was capable.

And ironically in the midst of all this up-fuckery .. I became a successful writer. Hah!

I never planned it, never visualised it, never chanted a single affirmation. It was just: given to me. Seriously, it was a miracle. And hells yeah: I loved every minute of the fame and adoration and hit-book after hit! Getting in the Awards! Breaking records. It was all on! Ironically: writing was the gift I never even noticed I had. It was the thing I never desired. Go figure.

My best years were in theatre. My best work was for the stage. And for a brief flickering decade I shone. And then I blew that too. I’ll own it. I’m not gonna pass the buck. Mine was a Life – Really – Badly – Lived.

And I knew it. In the last 20-odd years I tore myself apart with regret. It killed me a bit. I know that.

Yet I tried!! I clawed at the walls of the sinking ship. I tried and tried and tried again to get my career back. I did my best. And the photos show it. The cosplay. The PINK. Damn it I did keep trying to express the mad genius inside. Call that phase what you will. .. Call that my legacy. .. Celebrate that.

Oh: And it was an absolute blast working with you, when and wherever we did. all you lovely peeps. I hope they do theatre in the afterlife. Come join me! Cheers, y’all. Bye.”

2 thoughts on “A Few Quick Pointers:

  1. Lindsay Gregory

    Not being great at this writing thing as others are, my mind always comes up with song lyrics that seem to have some connection to the topic. In this case from Rodney Crowell (well the first part of the song anyway)

    “It’s like I’m sitting at a bus stop waiting for a train
    Exactly how I got here is hard to explain
    My heart’s in the right place, what’s left of it I guess
    My heart ain’t the problem, it’s my mind that’s a total mess
    With these rickety old legs and watery eyes
    It’s hard to believe that I could pass for anybody’s prize
    Here’s what I know about the gifts that God gave
    You can’t take ’em with you when you go to the grave
    It ain’t over yet, ask someone who ought to know
    Not so very long ago we were both hung out to dry
    It ain’t over yet, you can mark my word
    I don’t care what you think you heard, we’re still learning how to fly
    It ain’t over yet”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s