Reincarnated From Myspace. Please Turn me Into Pencils!

A recent conversation with co-workers on death made me think of this blog I wrote years ago. From the depths of Myspace: An oldy but a goodie ...

The New York Times featured and article on the art of death.


It seems there is a grassroots movement to make death more stylish, at least for your loved ones to enjoy.


Lauren Clauson finds comfort in giving her mom a spin every now & then. Her mother's ashes were placed in an urn with a New England fall motif. The urn is mounted on a prayer wheel she can spin when she is thinking of her mother. Basically, its a fancy lazy Susan. No. Her mother's name was not Susan. Yes. I am going to hell.

When I do, I want to be made into pencils. You can really be made into pencils! How cool is that? Pretty damn awesome if you ask me. I would love to bite it and then be manufactured into hundreds of shiny yellow #2s
 
The reason I am so keen on having my corpse ground into pencil lead is the same reason I love empty journals so much: Infinite possibility. A pencil and a blank piece of paper is a powerful force. Anything a person could imagine is possible: Doodles when you are bored in class. Grocery lists. Love letters. Hate mail. Notes for a final exam. Poems. The great American novel.

I like the idea that I could die and still have the chance to be anything. Even if I end up the knarled stump of a thing whose owner suffers from writers block.
 
In keeping with the theme, "I have gone completely bonkers and want to be made into pencils," I want my funeral to resemble and 8-year-old's birthday party. The program could look like an invitation
 
 

The only difference is there would be kegs of beer and an open bar.

People would sign my guestbook with a crayon or a washable marker. Or, they could use me to sign my guestbook. I probably won't mind since I'll be dead and made into pencils. I want the place to be covered in balloons and streamers. People should feel free to suck helium from the balloons.


My guests would play Duck, Duck Goose! Tiddly Winks & Pin the Tail on the Donkey. There might even be a pinata!

Everyone would get a cupcake. Every cupcake has a candle. Everyone gets a wish.

When it was time to go, everyone would get a party favor bag. Inside of it would be an empty journal/sketchbook, a Shannon pencil, a CD, a bottle of booze and an aphrodisiac.

The icing on the cake of life: good writing, good music, good booze and good sex.

Some of the pencils should be passed out on the streets at random to ensure maximum variety of usage.

All that is left is to decide what gets stamped on the pencil. I'll leave it up to you guys.

Maybe something like this: Irish #2 pencil. Great for writing bullshit.