Yesterday, I began the sequential A-Z playback of my 160 GB iPod. Every day, while walking, I will chip off another chunk. I’ve done rough calculations in the past, but I can’t account for variances in the length of my walks (or whether or not I will actually listen to this god-awful playlist every day) to know how long it will take me to complete.
I’m trying to impress upon myself the finite nature of my life. As if I didn’t already know. But lately, it is getting so that I could look at a calendar and flip through a few years to a date well past that of my termination. Scary thought.
This exercise is supposed to make me cherish the moments that I know to be so precious and few. If you knew that at the end of this designated playlist of 23,726 songs, you would expire, as surely as some cottage cheese, then the idea would be to enjoy the cottage cheese well in advance of that date. Unless you really hate cottage cheese, in which case chuck the whole container out right now.
Let’s face it, we all have an appointment with death. We may not know when it is, but that can be remedied. Why not make your own appointment?
It was very depressing to see my wife outlived by box of corn dogs, some fat free ranch dressing, a bottle of KC masterpiece barbecue sauce. The Pringles potato chips were even viable long after she was gone. Maybe not now so much, three years down the line. But in a zombie apocalypse situation, who knows?
Will these feeble words outlive me? Most likely. Unless the servers crash at Google and wipe out my entire online journal in one fell swoop, they will be lingering around long after the buzzards have finished with me.
I had previously been shown the date of May 29, 2054 as my "use by" date. That would make me a very ripe 89 years of age. But my crystal ball has gone hazy of late, and now that year is suspect. And if I have anything to say about it, we will be moving that day up to something much closer to the present.
That is all for now. I'm out walking at the moment. I'm in the middle of track 25 of 23,726, which is still in the early As. Plenty of time left to fuck around. Unless, of course, I get hit by a car in the next 15 se
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