Archive for death
July 25, 2008 at 7:40 am · tag/s : blog, death, melbourne, money, people
we live here - the tree on the left is gone now. so is the old weird guy in the flat underneath us. i saw what must have been his body lying on the couch through his window as i walked past one day.
he had just built an elaborate construction for growing tomatoes in the tiny square of green outside his window with much banging and smoking. he smoked like a trooper. you never saw him without a cigarette in his mouth. the smell that came from the flat was incredible. we called him mr.stinky.
one day they came along and delivered two large skips and started throwing all his stuff into them. now the place has been renovated and they want $320 a week for it. this is the real estate agent’s photograph which shows the front of the building. mr.stinky’s flat is at the back. some good looking tomatoes gradually ripened, but no one was game to pick them.
April 19, 2008 at 12:46 pm · tag/s : art, blog, death, doubt, loss, people, reading, writing
a much more engaging and humble piece by alex james in the independent about the suicide of his friend angus fairhurst (4.10.1966 - 29.3.2008) than the annoying self-serving piece by tracy emin which i linked some time ago to in ephemeral.
unlike his close friends damien hirst and sarah lucas, fairhurst was full of doubt. a few weeks ago he went alone to scotland and “with a ladder and a rope that he’d handwoven in silk, climbed the ladder and hanged himself in a meticulously planned grisly piece of theatre.”
April 10, 2008 at 8:23 am · tag/s : amerika, australia, death, life, loss, love, people
a story is doing the rounds of the internets about an 80 year old man in new york who has been calling his late wife’s answering service every day since she died in 2005 just to hear her voice. unfortunately the phone company deleted the message and the old man was heartbroken. tough shit said verizon when he rang them asking if they could restore the message. then the story hit the internets and hey presto, the phone company found a backup of the message and restored it. where there is a will (or a potential public relations disaster) there is a way. there are a number of variants of the story, some of which claim the voice said : “the whitings aren’t home…” and in others “this is catherine whiting…” but no matter it is a great story. how long before there is service where you can record a message before you die so people can ring a number and hear your voice after you have passed away?
September 20, 2007 at 7:45 pm · tag/s : art, death, doubt, image
on 22 july 1944, 150 new prisoners arrived at auschwitz as members of the SS Helferinnen (female auxiliaries) ate blueberries. 21 men and 12 women were selected for work, the others were taken to the gas chambers.
in the mid-nineties christian boltanski exhibited photographs of “ordinary“ ss officers which appeared in contemporary german magazines. there was something disconcerting about seeing these images of nazis in uniform with their wives and children, or juxtaposed with innocent magazine illustrations.
now the holocaust memorial museum in washington has published online the photograph album of karl hoecker adjutant to richard baer who took over from rudolf hoess as commandant of auschwitz in the last year of the camp’s operation. the album was donated by a us lieutenant who found it in frankfurt in 1946 and took it home with him.
it is chilling indeed to see these photographs of the men and women who were responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people, enjoying themselves. like the one below, which shows josef mengele and the current and former commanders of auschwitz baer and hoess relaxing during a break at solahutte, the ss retreat near auschwitz.
May 26, 2007 at 6:53 am · tag/s : art, blog, death, doubt
once the furnaces were kindled, the main fuel relied on was human fat so an effective burn depended on intelligent selection as well as artful stacking.
inga clendinnen - reading the holocaust 83
April 17, 2007 at 5:39 am · tag/s : amerika, art, death, pain, people
despite a whole melatonin i wake very early from a very strong vivid dream about my friend simone who teaches at virginia technical university in the usa and i can’t get back to sleep : it is before 5am, i am still rubbing the sleep from my eyes when i see the surreal news headline on the net : 32 dead people … 32 people who got “what they obviously did not deserve…” in the words of one witness
and the people who were wounded jumping out of windows didn’t deserve it either.
nor did the people who were scared out of their wits. or those who have lost friends or family.
and neither did any of the people of blacksburg and the students and staff at virginia tech, who were without any exception, amongst the most friendly and civilized people i have met, when i was a guest lecturer there in december 2006.
in my dream we are arguing about art, as usual, whilst the tragedy which is the real world continues to happen all around us.
March 24, 2007 at 10:01 am · tag/s : australia, death, people
more than one aussie has been ribbing me this week following the loss of the netherlandic team of cricket minnows by 229 runs in their world cup match against australia - since then the event has become completely overshadowed by the murder of the pakistan coach following their loss against ireland - and no one is in the slightest bit interested that the men in orange booked their second ever world cup victory, against scotland - in an inspired and heroic move, the depressed and under-performing captain luke van troost (whose name coincidentally means solace or consolation) dropped himself for their final match in the tournament, with his replacement almost single-handedly destroying the scots batting
meanwhile, despite the win, van troost remains depressed, as do most people who have ever liked cricket, including the entertaining and articulate (if at times alarmingly right wing) commentator peter roebuck who, in the age today lyrically laments the passing of the innocence of a game in which
A bloke armed with a hunk of leather tries to hit three sticks protected by another fellow bearing a lump of wood.
ah if only it was that simple
March 23, 2007 at 5:43 am · tag/s : death, image, people, strange
i am struck by the pictures of the memorial service for rinie mulder, who was shot dead by police in one of my old stamping grounds ondiep, (which means shallow, not deep) in utrecht, the netherlands last week - in what looks more like a celebration of a victory of oranje (the netherlandic football team), balloons abound, and the mourners wear t-shirts with an image of the dead man.
February 28, 2007 at 5:55 am · tag/s : blog, death, image, love, pain, people, research, strange
people like to post images of their deceased pets on flickr. in their comments the posters often address their late pet directly, such as this one from suzukichick : “You nearly made it to 2007, boy. RIP”
there are also a number of ‘pools’, such as “in memoriam of our cats” and “loving memories” where members share pictures and console each other over the loss of their pets. like : “He gave you ten years of unconditional love.”
people also post interesting bits of information : in ancient egypt … when a cat died, the whole family and probably their closest friends, went into mourning, the measure of their personal loss signalled by their shaving off their eyebrows. (feline fancier)
January 20, 2007 at 2:05 am · tag/s : death
fuck
fuck
fuck
i am speechless … mute … and i wish i could speak … i wish i could comfort those who are left behind … i wish i could comfort myself
but this is not about me …
maybe i can write about my speechlessness … maybe i can think about what needs to be said …
i could write about my own feelings : sadness, failure, powerlessness, disappointment - i could do that if i needed to - but perhaps i am resolved enough in my own life … grounded enough, old enough, not to have to do that anymore, and i have already done it elsewhere … the same with how this reminds us … puts us in touch with … our own fear of death … as well as our own, more or less frequent, or infrequent, urges for oblivion and self annihilation …
but this is not about me …
i could say something, which would sound patronising and ageist, about young people, particularly adolescents, needing good role models - but which wouldn’t be meant as patronising and ageist, because i would mean : as a person coming into adulthood you need to see adults, people, who can work with their doubt … people who can turn their depression around … people who are doing something meaningful, in spite of the fact that the world seems increasingly meaningless and more and more people are becoming increasingly cynical and selfish
i could say : it is perfectly reasonable for you to be disappointed with the world … if you are a sensitive intelligent person, it is a very difficult fact to swallow that the world is so fucked up and apparently getting rapidly worse (not to mention the fact that most of the people in it are either ruthless, or idiots - and the ones that aren’t, don’t seem to care)
especially as you are emerging from the haze of childish ease, when you are coming into adulthood, this is a hard fact to swallow, perhaps the hardest of all - and then it might be very tempting to for you to say : you know what ? i don’t like your fucked up world, and no one has shown me any reasons why it might be a good idea to stay alive, and neither have i accidentally stumbled across any reasons for staying alive myself, and i just don’t want any part of it
but i would say : it is not your life to end … it is the ultimate selfish act - look at the devastation and the sadness that is now all around - i can sense it 13,000 kilometres away … its weight is heavy on me, and i am especially worried for those closest to you, who are left behind - and i am mute … with sadness … with disappointment … with powerlessness … with anger …
but this is not about me
i could say : i wanted to know the man you would have been … could have been
but this is not about me
i could say : fuck you guthrie …
you dumb little cunt - but anyway :
rest in peace
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