My dad used to tell me"you'd be late for your own funeral" and so I will be.
When exit this mortal coil I have a plan and part of that plan is to be late for my own funeral.
Literally.
I want my casket to be brought in 17 minutes after the service is to start and have someone stand up and proclaim my tardiness.
I'm pretty sure I don't want to go with cremation, how am I supposed to haunt people with the possibility of climbing out of my grave if I'm a baggie of ash and bone stuck in a vase?
Time is an invention and our master, one that I have fought against for most of my life. I was reflecting on my sloth today and figure that it's because my dad is so driven that I am so… not. I am capable of ambition and drive but usually when I'm interested, other wise my battle cry is typically "meh."
In my day to day occupation I am motivated by the every pressing deadline of the Sabbath. With Sabbath march cannot be stayed or slowed and with every Monday it begins again; like Groundhog Day without the comic stylings of Bill Murray. Upkeep of this blog is a prime example of my sloth… and I like to write. I love to write. And the crazy thing is I'm starting another blog. Another blog. The second blog will have shorter posts and so presumably more of them and more stream of consciousness content, it's just the name, I want a good name and I think I might have one: "drawing cubes." It came to me while I was drawing cubes in a meeting and replaying a video entry from Jack Grisham in my mind that I will do my best to embed at the end of this blog. Which is - now.
Jack Grisham: Hey it's me
