I'm thinking about death as I lie tightly bound by rope in this giant party complex going deaf from the excruciatingly loud jazz music and my face burning from the bonfire and the left side of my body going numb from lying on it in the dirt against a concrete wall. All of the celebrities are too scared of the party monsters to come help me, and so I'm thinking it might be hopeless to think about living for too much longer.
I had always thought I would die in other ways. This way is so strange and... unexpected. Here are some of the entries in the long list of ways I thought I might die. I left the actual list at home, so I'm going on memory here.
1)feet first through a deli-slicer
2)falling off the roof of a speeding train while being chased naked, covered in honey, and holding the world's largest diamond
3)while trying on a sweater in a J.C Penny dressing room, said sweater gets stuck over my head and I suffocate
4)the plot of Hitchcock's North By Northwest happens to me, except that in the end when me and that hot girl are hanging off the edge of Mount Rushmore, we actually fall off instead of being saved by the FBI. (the whole time the badguys chase me, I'd be saying, "Man, this is so weird. It's just like that movie with Carey Grant.")
But I do know that my funeral will be the most bad ass funeral ever. It'll be held in a staduim where all of your favorite heavy metal bands will tear it up hardcore with songs inspired by my life and untimely death (as well as their hits that you know and love.) Cirqu de Soliel will also be performing. it'll be so sad and bautiful. My body will be suspended above the center of the stage, ensconced in a block of ice, my arms and legs spread eagle like in that Da Vinci drawing. Collumns of flame will periodically shoot forth from the corners of the stage. The stadium will fill to capacity, they'll have to schedule a second night to accomodate all the whordes screaming for admittance, and the event will get record-setting ratings on all the top networks. The world will cry.
At the end of the funeral, everyone will get a free tattoo on the way out. They will have their choice of either a portrait of me riding a bicycle and waving, or lounging on a couch, attractively nude, waving.
Then the funeral will go on tour for a year or two before they take a hiatus to work on new material for "THE MIDNIGHT MAILMAN, FUNERAL DE LOS DIOS, DOS" which will make more money than anyone has ever made ever.