Quote

Here it comes. My inevitable death, ignoring me all those years when I wished for it daily, arriving only after I've decided I want to live forever.

Isaac Marion

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Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Live
Arriving
Years
Wished
Inevitable
Daily
Decided
Forever
Comes
Death
Ignoring

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Can we really choose anything?' 'Maybe. If we want to bad enough.
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You know things are moving. You're changing, you fellow Dead are changing, the world is ready for something miraculous. What are we waiting for?
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I'm not a general or a colonel or a builder of cities. I'm just a corpse who wants not to be.
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The kind of stuff I usually read is a bit more on the literary side, like books that I think are influential in the sense that they're doing pulpy subject matter in a refined way. Like 'The Road' by Cormac McCarthy, I loved that book.
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In my mind I am eloquent I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, everything collapses.
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What's wrong with people? she says, almost too quiet for me to hear. Were they born with parts missing or did it fall out somewhere along the way?
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What happened to the world was gradual. I've forgotten what it actually was, but I have faint, fetal memories of what it was like. A smoldering dread that never really caught fire till there wasn't much left to burn. Each sequential step surprised us. Then one day we woke up, and everything was gone.
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I notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.
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I used to split my time between writing, music and painting. I would work on a book and then abandon it, start a band, do an album, quit music, then do a gallery show. Eventually I decided to give writing a serious shot.
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Came to . . . see you.” “But I had to go home, remember? You were supposed to say good-bye.” “Don't know why you . . . say good-bye. I say . . . hello.” Her lip quivers between reactions, but she ends up with a reluctant smile. “God you're a cheeseball. But seriously, R—
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...thinking all this maximalism would somehow generate happiness?
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When the entire world is built on death and horror, when existence is a constant state of panic, it's hard to get worked up about any one thing. Specific fears have become irrelevant. We've replace them with a smothering blanket far worse.
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I want life and in all its stupid sticky rawness.
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What I'm saying is, when you have weight like that in your life, you have to start looking for the bigger picture or you are gonna sink.
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It's not like I'm such a shiny happy person either, you know? I'm a wreck too, I'm just... still alive.
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It's hard to take your life so seriously when you can see it all at once.
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Maybe this is why I sleep only a few hours a month. I don't want to die again. This has become clearer and clearer to me recently, a desire so sharp and focused I can hardly believe it's mine: I don't want to die. I don't want to disappear. I want to stay.
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Sometimes I wonder if he has a philosophy. Maybe even a worldview. I'd like to sit down with him and pick his brain, just a tiny bit somewhere in the frontal lobe to get a taste of his thoughts. But he's too much of a toughguy to ever be that vulnerable. - R on M
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We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.
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I can feel it... the chance to start over, to live right, to love right, to burn up in a fiery cloud and never again be buried in the mud.
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