Yes, I Can Still Laugh

Laura Smiling on FaceTime.PNG

I called Laura on FaceTime while I was unloading the dishwasher earlier tonight to answer her "Are you alright?" text message face-to-face and after I had sufficiently convinced her that I would, in fact, make it through the day she asked me if I was at least enjoying Amy Poehler's Yes Please in spite of my dramatic web log post about it last night and I chuckled, partly because I found her question to be chuckle-worthy and partly to prove to her that I am a happy person who has chuckles to spare, and then proceeded to tell her about my favorite part of Yes Please so far which, I realized about halfway through my explanation, was about death. Regardless, I'll put the part that I referenced above down below for safe-keeping, or whatever.

Hopefully I have another forty to fifty years of living ahead of me before I pass from this earth either in my sleep or during a daring rescue caught on tape. Ideally my penultimate day would be spent attending a giant beach party thrown in my honor. Everyone would gather around me at sunset, and the golden light would make my skin and hair beautiful as I told hilarious stories and gave away my extensive collection of moon art to my ex-lovers. I and all of my still-alive friends (which, let's face it, will mostly be women) would sing and dance late into the night. My sons would be grown and happy. I would be frail but adorable. I would still have my own teeth, and I would be tended to by handsome and kind gay men who pruned me like a bonsai tree. Once the party ended, everyone would fall asleep except for me. I would spend the rest of the night watching the stars under a nice blanket my granddaughter made with her Knit-Bot 5000. As the sun began to rise, an unexpected guest would wake and put the coffee on. My last words would be something banal and beautiful. "Are you warm enough?" my guest would ask. "Just right," I would answer. My funeral would be huge but incredibly intimate. I would instruct people to throw firecrackers on my funeral pyre and play Purple Rain on a loop.

I'd like to note, before I end this post, that recently I've taken to publishing very sad things to this web log, but I am, by and large, a happy person.



I'm happy.