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In which I pretend to be Camus
March 4, 2007

I think somehow the tea caffeine (which is different than coffee caffeine) in my body put me into some kind of existential mood, as when I was doing up the breakfast dishes, I started thinking about the absurdity of death.

I (used to) get obsessive about certain events revolving around death - the JFK assassination, the Kent State massacre, the Jonestown massacre, etc. When I was younger, I read a collection of TimeLife books about all things great and wide, which included Physics, The Natural World, and The Mind of A Killer. Since the advent of the internet made mass communication so prevalent, that part of my psyche was not quelled when I read through all of the TimeLife books (and my aunt wouldn't buy me Helter Skelter at Barnes and Noble that one day) - now I just go out to CrimeLibrary.com or some similar googled site and let my imagination run wild.

In spite of all that, and in spite of all the people around me who have died, I still don't know enough about it. I've read about the decay of the body, about how the brain quits its electrical signals, and it still means nothing. So I've decided not to worry about it, full stop. Not that I'm going to start doing things that may get me nominated for a Darwin Award - I'm still plenty afraid of pain.