Americans,
claude le monde no networks, no nukes, not notcakes
how we do: + you are # |
1:08 pm | 24 July 2003 | breakdown: death, the sea, pirates It should come as no surprise that I tend to hang with morbid folk, the sort who giggle over epitaphs & discuss offhandedly the manner of our own imminent deaths (most desired, most ironically likely, least satisfying, etc.). What is slightly surprising to me, however, is the frequency with which we all think we're gonna drown. When i consider the myriad death options open to us (oh and believe me, I DO), 'drowning' seems to have won disproportionate favour. While drowning is the 3rd major cause of unintentional death in the US, and the 2nd major cause of death for people aged 5-44, American mortality rates put drowning at about 1.5% of ALL deaths (only three deaths PER TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND people--a quarter that of accidental falls, and a tenth that of motor vehicle accidents). Drowning is, relatively speaking, pretty bloody unlikely. You're ten times more likely to get capped in the ass, irregardless of race, than you are to visit Davy Jones's locker*. But that doesn't assuage the fear, doesn't help shake the belief. Even after doing this research there's still a quiet twinge of but you will drown in me, dear reader. So i think it's more symbolic than actual. Like in Jane Eyre : Where am i going with this? Oh, who knows. Okay. Three points, and then I'm gonna go get some tom yum soup & compose the SHIT outta some memos. First: My social set feels a fond/profound connection with the idea of drowning. Second: I believe this is indicative of an emotional flexibility/psychic availability which leaves them open to certain forms of disaster, attack, or destruction which would feel very much like drowning; indeed, a surplus of sensation, even positive sensation, can feel like being overcome by a flood. Third: Dude pirates are totally sweet and I think part of the reason why relates back to points One and Two.*** Savvy? clm. *I needed to mention that they are (FINALLY) repouring the concrete of my sidewalk, but in doing so had caution-taped off the entire area, including my front door. When i got home from work last night, the workers presented me with an extremely long two-by-four (okay, i guess it's a two-by-sixteen then) which spans the width from curb to doorstep; this (remarkably unsturdy) board was, then, presented for me like a bootleg red carpet, and as i wobbled up it, packhorsed with Target bags (sixteen giant rolls of toilet paper [guests are imminent], a flat of bottled water, two cases of Diet Coke) it struck me that I WAS ACTUALLY HAVING TO WALK A PLANK IN ORDER TO GET HOME, which was both funny and kind of creepily symbolic, to me, at least, since did that mean or portend that i would have to someday drown in order to "get home"? AUGH. Then i started thinking about how my dog drowned when I was sixteen and, well, the rest of the evening was pretty goth, I have to say. **DORK ***Although we mustn't forget or discount other pirate attributes and effects that make them OH SO TOTALLY SWEET: friends with parrots/monkeys; get to say/acquire/get "booty" a lot; BARRELS OF RUM; concepts such as "conference calls" and "dental coverage" foreign to them; do not seek to camouflage physical defects or infirmities as Americans do, but rather flaunt them via eyepatches, peglegs, and fearsome nicknames alluding to said deformities, like i could possibly be called MOONFACE LE MONDE or something; MORE BARRELS OF RUM; whores whores whores, and also doxies; only demographic that gets to swashbuckle; get to stand on the poop deck and/or bounty main, both of which sound naughty. unless otherwise noted, all work contained herein is � claudia sherman, 2002-04. |