Jack Burton Told Me Beggars Can't Be Choosers

I've often wondered what will fill the final moments of my life. More than likely some crunching noise, 70-feet of water, or a semi-rhythmic beeping and soft, sterile florescence. This is probably reality.

However . . .

. . . lets say, as a divine, grand gesture, the power that is allows me a little creative freedom with my end. In other words, I can choose my last sights, sounds, thoughts and emotions.

The following is a semi-random assortment of 5 collision moments as described in my last post. They are the film like moments that we look back to and our gut aches as we remember each detail of our senses at those exact moments.

a) This Will Destroy You - The Mighty Rio Grande
Whatever senses i have that tell me i am alive explode as i scramble the 30 feet to the crest of the wave. I turn just as time slows almost to nonexistent. A stiff off-shore breeze begins to fill my lungs with warm, deceptively placid air one last time. From my watery throne I look from one side of the bay to the other. The whole 1/2 mile is beginning to fold in on itself with brave me in the direct path of its natural course. I smile and whimper. A true reaction of humility. Time decides it again wants to be a part of my life, and begins to make up for what it lost in a curling detonation. My warm, watery throne is now a placental coffin as it buries my used body in its tumultous depths. The entire Pacific is then above me as the hand of some almost unknowable diety reaches down and says "here is where your proud hawaiian waves halt." I want to know that i am small and that somewhere in the dark cold is purpose beyond what i can create. For the next 30 minutes i sit on a bench waiting for a bus that will not come today. I eventually hitch-hike for only the second time in my life.

b) The Editors - Well Worn Hand
I feel the warm wind of Tecate as i ride amongst her mountainside shacks in the back of a F-10, tasting dirt, and watching Carmello grow small. The little, almost blind Mexican man says little and simply waves as we leave him atop his lonesome hill. Even as his figure disappears behind a ridge, i realize that beautiful Carmello will die alone. Later, as i try in vain to find a lock for his house, i come to the conclusion that nothing i can do can keep him safe. My hands are too small.

c) Mason Jennings - How Deep is That River
I am the little boy i will always be as my father and i weather the lightening storm of the rockies. He simply tells me that "we will make it down," and i'm forever 5-years-old looking up at a man who represents God. 12,000 feet, unbridled wind, and the sense that i could vomit from altitude sickness at any moment make for an especially long evening. Our tent bellows and expands, an asmatic's only functioning lung. I alternate between staying hunkered down in my warm cacoon of a sleeping bag and sitting straight up, staring into the moving dark. Daylight and the possiblity of seeing my wife are an eternity away, visible only as a small light in a window held open by my father. He always had strong arms.

d) Radiohead - Videotape
My stomach churns a little as my parents drive me to St. Thomas to see my friend who has just been in a car accident. I pretend it means nothing. Dad parks the car as my mom and i walk through the automatic doors of the ER and begin to make the left down the hallway which we were directed. I then see my friend's father standing before the doors, arms crossed, and eyes stained. My walk slows and i can't quite make it too him. My mom does and at that moment, that same moment that i just cannot seem to take another step, i hear, "We've lost him Jane. We've lost our boy." Innocencse and hope died in a car-wreck 2 hours ago. Somehow my back manages to find the cold hospital wall and i slide down its sterile surface to meet the well-travled floor. I can only cry. We were 18 and immortal. We were Peter Pan and now its time to grow up, put on a suit, and help carry the casket. This loss, this permanent soul vacancy is now the singular moment that will help define everything that is to come. It is the hollowness of death that will give berth to life.

e) Wheat - Body Talk (Part 2)
The feel of her hand in mine as i stand atop Sunset Cliffs, her scent mingling with the mineral smell of the pacific as it washes up from the cascading waves upon the lava rock. All the fire of heaven departs in a slow blaze of a hundred reds, purples and oranges as this burning life-giver fades into the mighty western ocean. I cannot remember any other emotion than complete and utter peace. The kind of peace that only comes from being wholly aware that you are alive at that one moment and what came before that moment and what will follow does not matter. Right now all that matters is right now.