if it pleases the court

people, whoever reads this, promise me this - if and when i die, which hopefully won't be shortly, please do NOT turn my myspace page into a memorial. i am fascniated by the pages which have become memorials to dead 20-somethings, it's interesting to read the gibberish comments people left on their departed friends' pages and then suddenly all the notes become macabre and sorrowful, at best. "we miss you here at Starbucks!" Oh please... Anyway, if on the other hand people want to use my myspace page as a way to continue to poke fun at me and degrade/humiliate my character in the afterlife, then so be it. Go on, who's going to stop you, aside from the intangible barriers of Taste. Sticks and Stones can't hurt me from beyond the gates of Oblivion, but even I have to have a chuckle at the thought that my removed presence is still obnoxious to someone, somewhere.. eternally..

I guess I will have to start writing Advance Blog Entries (A.B.E.'s) for someone to post in the future after I am gone, much like wen a poshumous author's work is published. The only difference being that there's an audience for the dead author, but you know. I will have to think beforehand about what I will complain about in the Afterlife and commit it to keyboard, so that people can still read about the trivial bullshit Ron is whining about from a supposed Other Plane of Existence.

Anyway, enough of that. Once in awhile it's fun to toy with the idea of pondering one's own mortality and imminent doom, but not too wonderful to get carried away with it. Meanwhile, I am facing some new bizarre considerations, and the question I have is this - if everyone you know tells you that you're crazy, then does that mean, indeed, that you ARE CRAZY? For years I have had to weather such accusations from my friends and loved ones, to whatever, degree, but it was always sort of lain on me in jest. though the past couple of years, it's been coming at me more... uh.. substantially. So what if I am crazy.. what then? Do I get a card for my wallet, perhaps a bracelet? A tax break? Should I just turn over all my belongings and check, indefinitely, into the nearest mental institution?

Or should I just start acting crazy "for real?" Walking around half-dressed in the streets. Throwing things at cops, trying to drink gasoline straight out of the pump. Screaming at strangers in public places and try to relieve myself at the entrances of libraries, you know, that sort of thing. Okay, well, short of being a little abrasive here and there, I do have the switch in my head which says "do not irritate society and piss people off FOR REAL," likewise don't do things that are utterly irrational for the sake of irrationality and completely disregard any such consequences. So my wy fo going abotu things, and the levels of my interactions with certain people in the world might be measured as a little bit unusual here and there, but I maintain that I am by no means honestly crazy. Perhaps, it's more the case the case that nearly everyone else around me is just so fucking boring.