A Proper Funeral, or, All She Wrote

What if one of the best things you can do is shut down?

The idea of leaving, so to speak, threatened the journal accumulation and ricocheted off the neural walls for about a month, now. I’d have done this sooner, but the pathways are long and the bullet would seem missing for spells at a time before returning forefront. With knowing everything I wanted to write last night at 2 A.M, all I could do was sit up and stare at the white entry box as the words flashed and never got copied. Now I’m going to try to reconstruct parts of the idea that I remember, because it is important and not getting away this time.

It is goodbye.

There’s no reason why I can’t continue to upload my brain into an online blog. It has recorded dreams that I would have forgotten and captured people in certain lights that my humanity will be unable to always hold them in. I’ve read over the past three years and found bits of behavior that I didn’t even know I exercised. More importantly, a person can start from the beginning and watch me get better and better –one good sign in a dark sky. And of course, what I can’t deny being really neat about it was how I used this device to pay tribute to the pieces of myself that someone else knocked off.

One thing I don’t want to do right now, is broadcast. This process is a cry without echo, uninfluenced by anyone there. It’s too short of blood to be giving away while I try to peer through backwards type and watch the eyeballs, watching the words. Some are blue. Some are red and leaking. And from the sound of the future, they’ll eventually have designs on the whites as well. Some I’ll miss, but it’s just another good excuse to take off unless I want attachments to glass pixels.

This isn’t the activity for me at this time. Thank you to everyone who commented and said that my journal was entertaining. Sorry I don’t have any kind of ending – there’s too much else to do. First thing on the agenda is tonight’s kickboxing class. How can I write up an ending when I’m learning how to inflict pain with my foot? The story is just getting good.

It was a long time on a green microraft with my butt smack down on the chip floating through numbers and wires. After finally reaching a glacier of fact and solid information, I knocked on the iron deposit and it rang a hollow vibration of truth – but not the sound of freedom.

End trans.

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20 responses to “A Proper Funeral, or, All She Wrote

  1. Good luck with your journey.

    You could continue your journal as a your eyes only thing as a sort of diary of your thoughts so you can watch yourself make progress.

  2. Take care hon. Try not to let life get to you too much. :) Thanks for finding me in this strange internet and telling me you enjoyed my entries. :) Should you need anything just look me up.

    -Juliette

  3. Miss you, Autumn. Your posts have always been insightful and smart.

    Good luck to you and all you do in the future. You will be missed and if you ever need to have someone listen when things aren’t going quite right, you’ve got a whole community of friends here.

    You will be missed, Autumn. We luv ya!

  4. Thank you for letting us all join you on your journey. I can’t speak for everyone, but I can speak for myself, when I say that I enjoyed you posts even if there were twists and curves, ups and downs. Good luck with the future. Hope things work out.

    :)

  5. Thank you…

    Thanks Autumn,
    Your a bright beacon of light in the dark Internetty place. Have a great life, and do not let the man get you down, or anyone by the way. Thanks for finding me too and telling me to write from the heart, your a cool kid…stay that way.
    ~Dan

  6. So long, Autumn.

    Drop me an IM or an e-mail sometime. I personally hold Crazy Tom partially responsible for all this.

    You have my cellphone number (if you lost it I’ll send it again)…please give me a call.

    All the best.

  7. Buon viaggio, mia sorella, Autumn.

    I am pretty confident you remember the
    “Buon viaggio, mio fratello, Little Steven” printed
    (in Italian) on Born in the USA’s sleeve.
    I simply changed “fratello” (brother) with
    “sorella” (sister).
    I chose it also because we both know how it ended :-)
    You’ve been my first reader, do you remember?
    I will miss your journal A LOT, but I hope we’ll be able
    to keep in touch somehow – if you want, of course.
    In the meantime, please take care and
    keep on rockin’.
    Motor City Bob

  8. Oh my!

    This is a little upsetting to me, but I understand how you feel. I’ll miss you and the pictures you paint with your words. If you should ever return, I hope I’ll again have the privilege of reading your thoughts. Farewell Autumn.

    Ray

  9. roger that… good buddy

    I found your journal when I was looking for a reason to get up everyday. The things you wrote, the way you wrote them engaged my brain and compelled me to my feet. Thanks.
    rick

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