Mortality: Not a Myth

Mortality must be real. Today I lost two of the icons of my childhood: Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. It's so incredibly painful to lose these larger-than-life characters; for me, it's even harder than losing family members. And yesterday it was Ed McMahon. As a child, you never think these great figures will age, much less disappear. Elvis died when I was eight. I remember what a shock it was to my family and older friends, although I think I was too young to understand. Since then, John Lennon, Paul Newman, Sonny Bono, Bea Arthur, James Brown, Johnny Carson. I remember thinking after Carson retired, and even more so after he died, that there was no longer any reason to become famous, since the pinnacle of fame would be an interview on The Tonight Show.

I have been thinking about death a lot lately. I've even been deliberately making myself think about it. I know my biggest fear is growing older, getting sick, and dying. I made a list of ten statements that I read to myself every day. It starts with 1) I am going to get old, 2) I am getting to get sick, 3) I am going to die. It may seem counterintuitive to some people that I do this, but I think it's a necessary step. Obviously, the rational part of my brain knows that it is impossible to prevent death and aging, but there's a part of my brain that thinks maybe it's possible. I have to convince this part of myself that I'm going to die and there's nothing I can do about it. I have to read these statements to myself until ALL parts of my brain are convinced they're true.

Slumlord Millionaire

I finally decided on a career direction (one that actually supplies me with funds which the world of poetry obviously does not do). I've decided to become a slumlord. While out house-hunting, I realized there are a ton of really cheap houses on the market right now. I could buy some, fix them up, and rent them out. Could be interesting. Could be profitable. I made a proposal to Fareed two days ago that he join up with me (as a business partner AND a life partner) and we could build our future together with hammer and nails (and rental agreements).

Yesterday, I was sitting in Steak n Shake eating a grilled cheese when I overheard a lady behind me telling her kid, "Money makes money; money makes money" (more emphatic the second time). At least I think that's what she said. Maybe I heard what I wanted to hear. I felt a brief moment of guilt (what have I ever done to earn the money that I've designated to build my slumlord empire?) before deciding to interpret the statement as a "sign." Money makes money; what a simple & obvious answer to my career dilemma.