Archive for the ‘ Death ’ Category

The Next World

Everyone is unhappy…

At some point, it hits you. There is something not quite right with this world. Everyone experiences that moment. Sometimes at a young age. Sometimes, at an old age, sometimes no age at all. And you die not knowing the full truth of this world.

When you die, there’s three different portals you go to. The ones who know the truth and believe it go into one part of the next world. The ones who knew but did not believe it, go into another. And the indifferent ones, the ones who never believed because they remained blind to the truth, they go into a sort of purgatory, an in-between world. It is not the pleasure that is Heaven, but it is also not the misery that is hell.


Death, Part II

I remember the day my grandfather died. And I went to the hospital with my mom and my brother. And my dad he was already there. In the hospital. He was… sitting in the waiting room. I came in. he wasn’t crying. He was tearing. He sat there. Alone. Thinking. Thinking of all the memories. All the times his father took him out. showed him how to drive a car. How to ask a girl out. gave him money for the date. Took care of him. Loved him. Disciplined him. Saw him off. Waved goodbye. Now… it was over. He was gone.

Serial Killers

It’s unhealthy to discuss this or think about it. I’m disgusted at myself for even writing about it. But I am so overwhelmed right now with different feelings.

There are so many sick people out there. I wonder to myself every time I hear of some rape or murder or kidnapping, how the situation was born. Who is this killer and what are his motivations? Why do the innocent have to die? Why must the killers roam free for so long, sometimes evading capture altogether. Think about this: The Zodiac Killer, you know the one chronicled in that movie by David Fincher? He killed an estimated 35 people in 1969 and has never been caught. Then there’s Charles Manson, the deranged psychopath who orchestrated dozens of home break ins and murders. He now resides in a home for the mentally insane. He might be insane, but he’s also a great actor and has managed to fool the best of us for five decades.

Then there’s Pedro Alonso López, a man from Ecuador who killed an estimate 300 people. His sentence in his native country? 16 years. He got out in 14 due to good behavior. He was released in 1998 and he hasn’t been seen since. Nobody even knows if hes dead or alive. Most likely though, he’s on a desert island enjoying drinks and young women, all the while thinking he’s beaten God at the game of life.

There’s also Colombian born Luis Garavito. He confessed to 138 murders and got 22 years in prison for it. Because of some bizarre Colombian law that says you cant go to jail for more than 30 years, even though his sentence for the crimes came out to 1,853 years in prison, he’ll only serve 22. Should make for a nice neighbor when he gets out and moves into a new area.

So the questions is, how do these situations come about? How does God allow them to take place? If you don’t believe in God, then as Jeffrey Dahmer once said “Then what’s the point of trying to modify your behavior to keep it within acceptable ranges?” God probably allows it because we’ve done bad in this world and because he has to allow the psychopaths to exist, otherwise people will say we don’t have free will. Free will? What the hell is that anyway? What the fuck is FREE FUCKING WILL? Do you have any idea? Because I’m sure it doesn’t mean allowing some fucking dickless piece of shit to rape and kill hundreds of people and simply get off after 14 fucking years. Are you fucking kidding me? Doesn’t that kind of stuff just piss you off? And scare the hell out of you? For the killers, it didn’t scare them, it excited them. It made them ejaculate. It was like sex for them, but on a higher plain. Maybe the highest. Maybe killing is the highest of highs and so, they couldn’t refuse that feeling, that impulse.

I read somewhere that the purpose of creation and of this world is beyond human comprehension. Indeed. The murders of innocent people on a mass scale, something that has gone on for ages, is definitely beyond human comprehension.

The Parallax View

There is a life before us, and a life after us.

I just realized that before me, before I was born, there was this… whole world. This whole existence. My mother and father, they went through decades of life and experience before I ever entered this universe. My father was almost 39, my mother, 34. That’s nearly half a life lived before I ever had my first breath. And now, I have a nephew, and it’s like, life is imitating itself again. I was once an infant, getting all the attention. And now that’s long past me and I’m an adult. Now, it’s his turn to get favoritism, and affection, and getting his driver’s license, and feeling a girl up for the first time, and college parties. Wow, his life is going to be amazing! And one day I’ll grow real old. And one day, so will he. And we’ll become our grandparents. Relics. Memories. And one day, we won’t even be memories. We’ll just be that old black and white photo in the attic no one ever looks at.  Damn it. When I put it that way, it just makes you want to kill yourself, doesn’t it?

Old people

When a person gets old, like really old, they don’t know what the fuck is going on around them. They just know that they’re borderline incoherent. And there’s no chance of ever going back to being normal. So they’re walked around. Clothed. Unclothed. Bathed. Shaved. Shifted around. Picked up. Carried. Sat down. Moved around. Twisted. Turned. Shoved. Pushed. Cared for. Caressed. Dressed. Showered. Washed. Changed. Made up. Made down. Put down. Sat up. Cleaned. Turned. Shifted. Dried. Dressed up. Moved around. Taken care of. They can’t function alone. They don’t see their spouses. They can’t touch them. They don’t even know where they are. But they know they’re around somewhere. Somewhere close. The woman had memorized her husband’s smell over the course of 50 years together. She could recognize his scent a mile away. Women are like beagles sometimes. But then one day, she no longer feels his movements. Nor does she smell his scent. She knows, he’s gone. And he’s never returning. So, soon after he dies, she simply gives up. And slowly, dies herself.


My mom’s best friend died yesterday. cancer. fucking cancer. isnt it num 1 amongst killers in america? or is it heart disease? i know theyre having a competition to see which disease could kill more. but anyway shes known my mother and family for 20 yrs. my parents first friends in america. i remember a kid she had a store, where she sold used clothing. my mom worked for free at first. then worked hard to get promoted to a paying job. after some years my mom moved on to other things, but their friendship remained intact. they were observant Jews. good people. not extremely religious, but were certainly very close with God.

and um.. well one day in “the basement” (the store was in the basement of a building.) , I had my favorite leather jacket with me. Brown. Very cool. I was 6 or something. But I remember this jacket and… one day I took it off down there and some woman off the street thought it was used clothing being sold there and my mothers friend didn’t know it was mine and she sold it. I cried. I was so sad. I was so sad. My favorite jacket. Gone. For good. Its probably 50 feet away from me right now, but I will NEVER SEE IT AGAIN. Anyway that’s something I always retained in my memory. I had a bar mitzvah in the synagogue her husband was president of. We moved from that neighborhood eventually but still remained friends ,still went all the way the shul on some Saturdays for shabbos. I remembered walking by the fence that led to the synagogue which was so old and worn down and in the middle of shit land. I mean a bunch of hoodlums and gangsters. What a place for a synagogue, right? Anyway now 20 years of friendship later she develops cancer. 6 months ago. it was slow and painful. I did not see her during this period of time. she died yesterday. 65 years old. That’s it. She’s with God now.

p.s. sorry for poor punctuation and grammar. will b better next time, promise.