I was reading an article yesterday in the latest issue of Paste Magazine about Patton Oswalt, a comedian of whom I know nothing about. According to the article, he voiced Remy in Ratatouille, wrote a little bit of Borat, and served a nine-year stint as Spence Olchin on King of Queens. I like Paste because it brings me things like this.
Something Oswalt said has changed my perspective on the purpose and mission of this web blog. I intended it to be a blog about death, a subject of great interest for me, and when I started “Death and Dying”, I said to myself, “This is it, this is all you’re going to write about. You can post to the facebook interesting tidbits, you can upload your photographs to Flickr, but this tumblr blog is just going to be about death and dying.” I haven’t changed my mind.
Oswalt told Paste author Austin L. Ray, “Pointing out that stuff sucks is not edgy or dangerous anymore. Everyone knows what sucks. What’s better is to find the stuff that’s amazing and hold it up.” He’s right. My blog is about death and dying, but I’ve been approaching it from the “everything sucks” angle, confining myself to only talking about death and how it makes me feel in stark empty text spattered with pictures of butterflies.
That changed today when I realized one of my favorite tumblr users might actually close his account and strip the inter-world of his artistic findings and creative snippets. I panicked, and quickly reblogged everything he had posted that meant something to me so if he did destroy it I would still have a copy of the meaningful stuff.
This has provoked an irrevocable change to my weblog. All of a sudden I have literally pages of stuff from abahd scattering all of my morbid pontifications into the four corners of my archives. I can’t take it back, but it is symbolic of my anxiety.
I am afraid of death because of the things in life I love.
So I’ve decided to go with it. “Death and Dying” will continue this new trend of finding the stuff that’s amazing and holding it up, with little sprinkles here and there of my reflections on the significance of the fleeting fragility of it all.
It would be awfully selfish of me to continue boring the Cloud with my depressive lamentations when I could be shouting to the skies the things that make me happy.
Keep writing, buddy, if only for the people who read it.