What does death taste like?


The_Sweet_Taste_of_Death_by_JasonGoad art by jasongoad.deviantart.com

I wonder what death tastes like.  Does it taste like the blackened bits of carbon that burn forever on the sides of a cast-iron pan?

Does death taste like brown and yellow agglutinated crap served cold?

Perhaps death tastes of the rotting, putrefying meat of dead animals slaughtered for food served steaming hot?

It is often said that the stench of burning human corpses is sickeningly sweet.  Perhaps death brings an overwhelming flavor of sweetness with it?  Burning corpses layered with fatty oils, burning, smoking greasily, filling the air the nose the lungs the tongue with a cloying odor of blackened leather?

Is death sweet? The aroma of almonds, dead and broken, cut in bloodless slices, layered with caramelized sugar; does death taste like that? Or sweeter still, like the honey of billions of dead flowers?

Or could it be, could it taste like bitter astringent pee? the pee on her labia, like a sharp spice around the honey within?

Oh. Back to her. Her, she, the one who makes me long for death.  Her of the twisted mind and tortured soul like me, the one I longed to be with for these wasted years?  What of her? She is life itself, and smiles and joy and soft flesh and music and reading and video and laughter and companionship.  And death. She is death for me. To long for her is to long for death. O, to taste her would be joy!  Joy denied. Love denied. Laughter denied. Companionship denied. The sweet look in her eyes.  The poetry of her hands moving about in space, the hands I long to touch, to caress, to feel warm in my hands….  A_Day_Without_You___2nd_Phase_by_Beloved_Creature A Day Without You by Beloved-Creature

Zombie Karen If she were a real zombie, I’d rush to her, embrace her, kiss her, and die.

But it is death!  It is death to touch her, to want the untouchable.  It is death to taste her, death to want to smell her honey, taste it on the end of my thrusting tongue probing her sweetness, stirring our flesh into spasms of delight and ever more desire, fevered heat on every part of our skin, and all is sensing and touching and smelling and tasting without thought.   Sugar Skull: Dia de los Muertos Karen

And there is la petit mort also.  That is the death I would taste.

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Aha! Confirmation of my imaginings


Goodbye-friend Looks like either way I look at it, I won’t be having lunch with Karen again.  She IS avoiding me, not that I blame her.  I think she did get that email I sent her, my confession of my obsessive infatuation/ unrequited love for her these last few years.  I went for coffee just now, at an unusual time when there was no one else there.  As it was espressing, I walked over to get some raw sugar to put in it, in and in the corner of my eye, I see Karen walking towards the door of the Cafe.  I think, “Well, I can say hello, see if she’s still friendly,” and waited for her to open the door.  She never came in. There was no other direction she could have heading, there is only the door to the Cafe she could have been heading to,  and straight on.  She saw me. I noticed that she did, and her head went down. She must have decided she can’t stand the idea of running into me anymore.  Either she is just trying to avoid my asking her about lunch, or she got the email I sent.  At least I  know for sure now.  You’d think she’d have the honesty and consideration to tell me so, rather than avoid me, but after all, she is at least as immature as I still am.   I have the luxury of a bit more experience, and tried to get a response from her directly, but she wasn’t having any of it.  It’s one thing to lose a relationship; it’s another to lose a friend too.   I suppose I’ll have to pretend I never knew her now, never had lunch with her every Friday for four years or so, never had anything in common, never traded movies and books, never discussed politics, Sci Fi, or manga or anime.  I blew a fine friendship with my “inappropriate” interest in  her.  I guess I’ll never learn.  brysi-goodbye karencrop

goodbye goodbye_my_love goodbye1

(but I cannot really ever say good-bye)

Message to Karen Lopez – 4 mos early


Fluffy_in_an_ambush_by_glooh(Fluffy in an Ambush by Glooh)

Well, I finally managed to put Karen behind me (this drawing is a really good likeness of her, except add tattoos).  I had one last thing to do, and that was write to her, tell her just a little bit of the depth of my depravity.  It was like a final purging.  Of course, I sent it to her main email account, not the one at work, and I think she has me blocked, because she never responds to or acknowledges those emails at all.  She used to forward funny or interesting things to me, but stopped doing that two years ago.  It’s possible she’s just too busy at work, and in all honesty, just doesn’t have time to meet for lunch, but it’s just been too long since we had lunch regularly, and too long in between, and the months go by with just an occasional sighting at work.  When I emailed her at work to ask if she still wanted to have lunch sometimes, she said yes, but she was real busy.   When I ran into her last, asked her about lunch, she said she had just been so busy, and would probably be busy through May. May came and went; June came and went. No word from her, no response to my emails.  Well, c’est la vie.

Hi Karen. I sure miss those Friday lunches, something I looked forward to every week. I always enjoyed them. I loved the way we liked so many of the same things. Sharing videos or books was really fun. I’ve never actually known anyone quite like you, with your preoccupations and obsessions with Babylon 5, Straczynski, and all the anime and manga stories – things I’ve enjoyed for years by myself. I loved hearing about your Halloween preparations, or your nieces and nephew. Loved the way you spoke of them, and enjoyed spending time with them. You have that quality of being able to relate to children, and they like you too. I liked you immediately, and just was amazed to find out how interesting you really were, and how much I liked listening to you. Do you know those Fridays, one hour a week, were the most time I spent with anyone else besides my ex wife? Ha ha. I’m such a dork. When my marriage was crumbling, you were a bright spot in the world for me. Of course, I should never, never have done what I did, which was fall in love with you. The one really good thing about getting divorced was that then I thought we might be able to spend more time doing things like movies, or even, wonder of wonders, dating. Ha ha. Sorry. I told myself how stupid it was; beat myself up over and over for thinking and feeling that way. I just couldn’t stop. You became an obsessive, compulsive infatuation with me. Dreams and fantasies.inuyasha demon and kagome(1) Sigh. I thought about romance, then living together, then marriage, and children. All the while I knew it was impossible, but I couldn’t stop. There were such highs in that fantasy, romantic and erotic, and such lows when I couldn’t be with you. You made it clear that such thoughts were inappropriate, I know. Compliments were inappropriate; asking you out would be, in your words, “Like a date,” and of course that “inappropriate” idea must have horrified you from the way you said it. Just as well we didn’t spend even more time together: I’d have just gotten worse, if that’s possible, so, thanks for that. Why am I writing you ask? Hard to say. It took me a while to climb out of that obsession with you. One day I looked in the mirror long and hard and realized how old I actually looked from your perspective. I had never been bothered by growing old before, until I realized that being my age meant I couldn’t just meet someone, fall in love, and be with them if they were younger, especially way younger. I had honestly never thought of that before I met you. Suddenly I hated being old. Well, going back to why I’m writing: I have gotten over the obsession. I don’t know how; it just stopped one day. Took me years. Ha ha. It’s hard to believe I could have been such an idiot now. Again, I apologize for the inappropriate remarks, attention, flowers, last year’s X-mas card with the money. It’s finally over for me. I still like you of course, always did, always will. It seems you have little need for me anymore, and that’s OK. You have a whole life to live yet. I like living alone now. I’ve gotten used to it. I’m much more withdrawn now, even misanthropic, not wanting much interaction with people anymore. (how emo) Emo I’ve resigned as President of the union. I’m leaving UNM in the fall; Halloween is my last day. I am trying to find a reason for living. I practice guitar,fishrock-large go for hikes in the mountains, play chess, read a lot. I got some medication for depression, and combined with a little counseling, I think I might be coming out of this emo fog. Hate to bare my soul like this; I never wanted to make you uncomfortable around me. Since we don’t work together, it’s rare to run into you, and you’re too busy, or uninterested in having lunch anymore, so I thought I might as well get this off my chest. Again, I stress this: I am over the infatuation. I would like to resume Friday lunches, or some other day, if that’s better for you. I really, honestly, like you, and I won’t mention any of this ever again if you’d prefer not to talk about my insanity. I’ve been reading lots of interesting comics and novels lately, and getting into some old movies. It’d be nice to share again. Discuss books, movies, politics. It’d be great to exchange books and movies again. I totally understand that you would be freaked out by these admissions, so I understand if I don’t hear from you. I don’t even know if you’ll read this. I just felt I had to write it, and couldn’t wait until Halloween to put it in the mail as I planned. Your friend, Terry

Even if Karen reads this, she’ll never acknowledge it. Too weird. She has always had problems with old perverts, so I did my best to keep this to myself, and the people who have read this blog.  At first, I hid most of the blog entries that had to do with Karen. They were so silly, perverted, and too “inappropriate,” for me to post for the world to see anymore, but nothing matters anymore, so I un-hid ’em.  Of course, Karen is almost 29 years old now, and hardly a child, so I’m not that perverted.  I’m just old. Finished. Done.  My life enters a new phase now, but I can’t see the future.

Message for Karen


August 06, 2007

Karen:

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and, ……………………..coulduseahug.gif

What condition my condition is in


May 23, 2007

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Drifting


May 15, 2007

My life.

Just seems so appropriate.

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(Not my artwork – I believe it belongs to either Ágoston Eszter, or Celia Z. – it was obtained from a site for downloading wallpapers in 2007.)