“We did not have to knock down the door, as we had thought, for the main door seemed to open by itself with just the push of a voice…” – Gabriel García Márquez, THE AUTUMN OF THE PATRIARCH
We took the toddler to smash pumpkins this weekend. Little more than a month ago, the promise of a pumpkin softened the blow of moving to a new house: “we’ll get a pumpkin when we move.” Barely three days after we were settled? “Can we get a pumpkin? Let’s have a pumpkin party!” Pumpkins were painted, carved, seeds separated for roasting, pumpkin donuts and pie baked. Unfortunately, the world is a vampire, and the march of time demands that pumpkins die. The local composting company hosted a pumpkin smashing party. We semi-agonized over whether or not a four-year-old would be okay with his pumpkins meeting such a violent end.
He wasn’t sentimental about the move. The internet told us that sometimes it’s a good idea to give kids a chance to say goodbye to the old place. He had no interest. Still, the minds of the children are a mystery, so we couched the day’s events with softening language: a different kind of pumpkin party. “We’re going to say ‘thank you, see ya next year!’ to the pumpkins!” In the end, we got rained on, meaning a giggle-fit-inducing sprint through wind and rain. Then more good vibes chucking chunks of gourd in a big truck bed. No tears at the death of these seminal seasonal icons. More pumpkins next year.
The proudly ostentatious goofballs Polyphia are my absolute go-to writing soundtrack when I’m working on horror projects. Instrumental, mathy almost-metal that has more in common with jazz/classical than djent, delightful to listen to with stereo headphones thanks to melodies and counter-melodies cascading out of a two-guitar setup. Their latest album, Remember That You Will Die, came out at the end of October, featuring tracks like “Memento Mori”,” “Chimera,” and “Ego Death.” It’s an excellent album.
The Field Museum has a special exhibit called Death: Life’s Greatest Mystery right now, Mal and I went last week. The exhibit opens with a diorama of a whale fall: when a whale dies, it sinks to the bottom of the ocean, and all those pasty, eyeless weirdos down there get the sea monster equivalent of a trip to Golden Corral. Death as ecosystem. Death as beneficial to your environment. From a human perspective, death is examined from cultures around the world. There’s a display of kusôzu, watercolor depictions of nine stages of a decomposing corpse that Japanese Buddhist monks developed. Nine pictures of Future You. Becoming a different part of the environment. Chinese imagery and Italian Catholic imagery focus heavily on the eternal judgment as motivation to live a good life—threat of consequence does the opposite of inspire me to live well, I’ve found. Far more moving, to me anyway, is Mexican imagery: multitudes of skeletons, frequently smiling, often playing musical instruments. Death is front and center in a lot of the iconography, but it at least seems like a party. And it’s the responsibility of the living to tell stories.
Since 2020, Isabel Hernandez has been turning the side yard of her Pilsen home into an ornate garden in the summer and an elaborate Día De Los Muertos display during October. An ofrenda for infants/children/young adults. An ofrenda for middle-aged people. An ofrenda for the elderly. A coffin, because we all end up there (her words). An ofrenda for pets. It’s a gorgeous display. The butterfly theme, she says, is because “Indigenous groups thought that the souls [of loved ones] returned as butterflies.” We drove down there, and Ms. Hernandez was incredibly generous with her time. All we wanted was to gawk from the sidewalk, she walked us through the whole yard without even asking. Ms. Hernandez could not stress enough how important it was for her to tell her community’s stories. Especially Mexican-Americans in Pilsen. Everyone, she said, no matter how heavy-scare-quotes “important” they are, should have their stories told. The Block Club article says she suffers from chronic pain, and doing this makes her stronger. That is the kind of living this blog can get behind.
Something I’ve learned about myself lately is I enjoy feeling cosmically insignificant. The idea first came to me writing this article, or more broadly while writing the Calvin & Hobbes series. I take life pretty seriously: be a good person, do good work, try to live in a way that’s good to future generations. But I have no illusions about the Romantic poet notion of immortality in any form, especially writing. It’d be rad if future generations read my work, but I can’t imagine Dead Me will feel one way or another about it. Life is short and shouldn’t be lived with an eye on legacy. But I do think life is consequential, and you should try live in such a way that some people might want to tell your stories when you’re gone. Remember that you will die, be rad while you’re alive.
Sorry you got an email,
Chris
Links to enjoy in the face of the universe’s indifference:
The official video for “Ego Death” features legendary guitarist Steve Vai. Vai seems like a cool guy: got his start transcribing Zappa, Zen-like approach to practice/craft, vegetarian. But I would personally describe his playing style as egotistical. This song rips, though. A reminder that sometimes you got lean into cheesy, too-ridiculous-to-do-out-loud moments, something as stupidly cliched as shredding back-to-back-to-back while the camera pans. Also you’re on rooftop.
A Block Club article on Isabel Hernandez’s ofrendas by Madison Savedra; a Chicago Reader article on the Field Museum Death exhibit by Deanna Isaacs.
Anne Rice’s vampire novels were a high school obsession. I haven’t read them since. BUT they remain the most complete and interesting vampire mythos in my mind, and have some great meditations on immortality. The new show is awesome, and more explicitly gay than the books, which is rad. Here’s an excellent video on gay vampires from Matt Baume.
I would never try Bob Burnquist’s massive ramp in San Diego—my muscles seize up and my head gets spinny just looking at heights. But if I got a terminal diagnoses and wanted to go out with some radness, I just might.
This Robert “Robi” Svärd cover of Polyphia’s “GOAT” with flamenco guitar is so rad. I used to be ashamed to admit how much I liked flamenco guitar—it can be corny and easy to parody, for sure. Life is too short to be ashamed of the music you like. Here’s Ana Vidovic playing “Asturias” by Isaac Albéniz.