how old would be a good time for you to go
I want to die during sex so I can go coming. hahahahahah....
actually...I want to live as long as is possible (so long as I have some quality of life.) I think for me the kicker will be when I am unable to look after my most basic needs. My grandma was playing 18 holes of golf with two fake hips when she was 79. She's 84 now and has slowed down a bit, but I'd have no problem being around at 84 if I was able to do what she is doing now...
actually...I want to live as long as is possible (so long as I have some quality of life.) I think for me the kicker will be when I am unable to look after my most basic needs. My grandma was playing 18 holes of golf with two fake hips when she was 79. She's 84 now and has slowed down a bit, but I'd have no problem being around at 84 if I was able to do what she is doing now...
Memphis wrote:Anytime from now onwards
When it happens, it happens
I really couldn't give a shit
Same here..with a bit of Mark Twain mixed in:
If I'd known I'd live this long,
I'd have taken better care of myself.
- Mark Twain
[b][url=http://www.flickr.com/photos/redandjonny/]My Flickr page[/url][/b]
[color=#FFBFFF]A lot of people would say it's a bad idea, on your first day out of prison, to go right back to stalking the tranny hooker that knocked out five of your teeth. But that's how I roll..[/color]
[color=#FFBFFF]A lot of people would say it's a bad idea, on your first day out of prison, to go right back to stalking the tranny hooker that knocked out five of your teeth. But that's how I roll..[/color]
ayeKaziganthe wrote:I just don't want to go in some utterly terrible way or lose any limbs or anything. I'd like to just take a shot when I'm all old and stuff.
You know when people say: "Oh, he died peacefully in his sleep." I wonder if he didn't wake up in the middle of the night in tremendous pain paralyzed and unable to talk or something. That'd suck.
like heart attack the best way to go WTF
you seen the expression on the face before they go, extreme agony (on tv anyway
)[color=red] . : [/color][size=85] You knows you knows [/size]
ayeKaziganthe wrote:I just don't want to go in some utterly terrible way or lose any limbs or anything. I'd like to just take a shot when I'm all old and stuff.
You know when people say: "Oh, he died peacefully in his sleep." I wonder if he didn't wake up in the middle of the night in tremendous pain paralyzed and unable to talk or something. That'd suck.
like heart attack the best way to go WTF
you seen the expression on the face before they go, extreme agony (on tv anyway
)[color=red] . : [/color][size=85] You knows you knows [/size]
Hitting the mid/late 70s mark seems to be the time you really start losing things mentally and physically. The problem is, by that time you are in a heavy state of denial (since death is forever, the one unknown of life, the thing we all fear, the one we try to say we don't fear but we are justing fucking ourselves like how macho people say war is cool but really it's like Wilfrid Owen said:
Bent double, like of old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind:
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime…
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in sonic smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-
My friend, you would not talk with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
and so death is like that in a way, and we deny it, so we are in denial about it, so by the time we get old there is no denying the denial (oh how clearly we see it now, but wait till we age), that is why I will say I want to be dead by 75 but when I get there I know that this is a lie.
Bent double, like of old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind:
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime…
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in sonic smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-
My friend, you would not talk with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
and so death is like that in a way, and we deny it, so we are in denial about it, so by the time we get old there is no denying the denial (oh how clearly we see it now, but wait till we age), that is why I will say I want to be dead by 75 but when I get there I know that this is a lie.
Last edited by mjrpes on Thu Jul 14, 2005 6:14 am, edited 1 time in total.
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