Achievment Attained: Zombie Monday, Jun 24 2013 

New Orleans City Park the day prior to the Zombie Run 5K

New Orleans City Park the day prior to the Zombie Run 5K

As those of you who’ve been with me longest know, my interests lean toward the macabre. I’ve been interested in horror films, books, and culture for as long as I can remember. My mother even tells stories of my napping in my toy box as a kid and pretending it was my coffin (because I was a vampire, of course). It probably goes without saying that many of my friends share my interests. Like most nerds belonging to any genre, we would have lengthy discussions about certain things in movies and what not, and one of those things we’d discuss in-depth was the matter of zombie-ism. These were days long before the zombie culture was accepted in the mainstream-or maybe it’s just that more of us have crawled from our crypts to claim our rightful place among everyone else. During these discussions, I’d always declare that in the case of a zombie invasion (this was before the term “zombie apocalypse” was even widely used or even coined, possibly), I would want to be a zombie. I’d rather be one than be eaten by one, you see. Because zombies scare THE EVER LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME! I won’t lie. If I watch a zombie movie, I WILL without doubt have nightmares. I’ve had many detailed nightmares about zombies, and I will probably have nightmares tonight just writing about zombies right now. I love to watch zombie/horror movies and read scary stories (and write them!), but in real life, I am a big old ‘fraidy cat once the sun goes down. I was, until very recently, terrified of the dark. When I used to work dayshift, and I had to leave early in the morning while everything was quiet and everyone was still asleep, I would get into my car with a quickness as I would terrify myself with the thought of a Dawn of the Dead scenario. The problem with zombies is that they’re like cockroaches. If you see one, you know there are more.

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For some reason which I can’t pinpoint, over the last several years zombie culture has become quite popular. Not only with horror fans, but with people who wouldn’t normally be into “that kind of thing.” I don’t know why this happened, but as you can all imagine after having read my first paragraph that my brain constantly being bombarded with zombie related information caused me some unease. It did in the beginning, then like most things, I became immune to the constant bombardment, and the nightmares stopped-mostly. I would like to note that in my nightmares, I have always been the victor. There hasn’t been one yet in which I was the victim of a zombie bite, although in one my husband was bitten, and it ended with us shutting out the zombie hoards and my looking at him with the knowledge that I would have to kill him. I mean. It’s the only way. Also, I was once a zombie crime scene investigator who had to eat the remains of the victims of crimes in order to discover their means of death and catch their killers. Or maybe I was just hungry. I dunno. Analyze that, okay.

La moi

La moi

When I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in late 2012, and after battling pediatric brain cancer alongside my son for nearly ten months, I was almost totally unable to do more than move around a little and then lie back down again. I was fatigued beyond explanation, and I was in pain. Lots of it. I decided it was time to get serious about my health. I knew I wouldn’t be able to care for my son otherwise. My body was in a very bad state then, physically, mentally, emotionally. My rheumatologist prescribed me medicine to help control the fibro. I started doing yoga again. I started eating well again. Eventually, and slowly with time, I was able to do more than yoga (and am doing much better with my yoga poses now). I’ve lost a significant amount of weight.

Somewhere in last few months information came across my Facebook feed about a 5K zombie run. I’d never done a 5k, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to really run a 5K (not yet, anyway). Even though I am getting into much better shape, I have to be realistic about my limitations. I decided, though, there was no better opportunity for me to be a zombie and set a goal for myself. After all, folks with fibromyalgia feel like their stricken with rigor mortis most of the time, anyway. I know I do. I am fortunate in that although I do suffer from fibromyalgia, I don’t suffer from some other-and far more detrimental-ailments that people with fibromyalgia can have. Lupus and rheumatoid arthritis are just two of those. I do have osteoarthritis, early onset of osteoporosis, and mild scoliosis. But, they’re not going to be crippling in the way rheumatoid arthritis or other forms of rheumatic diseases are. Fibromyalgia, for what it’s worth, doesn’t get worse over time. This keeps me positive that I can give myself a better quality of life by taking care of myself-eating right, exercising, sleeping. I stopped drinking (sad face), but it really is for the best, and as the bottle of Amaretto in my pantry whispers my name, I remind it that not only have I stopped drinking but I’ve also given up eating or drinking anything with a lot of carbs after a certain time in the day. (Bad Amaretto! Bad! Bad!) I digress.

Pre-zombie. We had to arrive at 5am for our transformation, so I had to leave home at 3:30am. Yes, I did this willingly.

Pre-zombie. We had to arrive at 5am for our transformation, so I had to leave home at 3:30am. Yes, I did this willingly.

I wanted to register for the zombie run because it seemed like fun and I got to set a goal for myself and I got to be a zombie. Win. Win. Win. During the months leading up to the Zombie Run, I trained hard. I knew if I didn’t work hard that I wouldn’t even be able to endure the heat and running after the, well, runners. (Honestly, I let a lot of them go because really, they were in great shape. I told one guy, “I’m not out-running you. Go ahead.” He had like 2% body fat and looked like he ran everywhere just for fun. Free pass from this zombie.) And although I sprained my ankle during that time, I noticed that it became easier for me to lift my son and that I was in less pain after moving him and his equipment around. My fatigue has all but diminished, and I really only sleep in the day when I don’t get enough sleep the night before. (The CPAP machine helps a lot, although it’s left a bald spot on my baldness. In other words, the strap that goes across the top of my head has rubbed some of the hair completely away. I sleep with a handkerchief between it and my scalp now, but it might be too late for that one spot.)

My bald is bald. It's not too bad, but it is noticeable and I can feel the difference when I touch my head. It's like a big divot. On my head.

My bald is bald. It’s not too bad, but it is noticeable, and I can feel the difference when I touch my head. It’s like a big divot. On my head.

Zombie Run day came, and I was up with the vampires at 3am since we had to arrive at City Park at 5am. I live a good ninety minutes away. I drank a protein shake with some yogurt and did some yoga and went on my way. My friend, with whom I’d have the zombie discussions years ago, and her stepson joined me for the race. We didn’t really know what all to expect, but we knew some stuff. Like we got professional zombie make-overs from some of the best make-up artists in the area.

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Me getting airbrushed

I gave the artist complete creative freedom. I told her she could do something on my head. She was all about it.

I gave the artist complete creative freedom. I told her she could do something on my head. She was all about it.

Look out for those fat zombies. They really like a lot of braaaaaaiiiinnnnsss.

Look out for those fat zombies. They really like a lot of braaaaaaiiiinnnnsss.

xie&masonzombies

Xie & Mason zombies

The artist who did my make-up works at the 13th Gate, a haunted house attraction located in Baton Rouge.

She did a pretty awesome job, I'd say!

She did a pretty awesome job, I’d say!

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Post-race. My shirt was white. As you can see, it’s a little bloody.

There were also members from the House of Shock involved in our zombie training and blood spattering. When I was up to be spattered, they said no one wanted to roll around in the blood on the big blue tarp that was catching the burgundy puddles. So, of course, I said I would. Then my friend’s stepson did it, too. Because we’re cool like that. It was fun, but I had fake blood squishing in places that were bordering on unsanitary. Still totally worth it.

Blood spattering station

Blood spattering station

While we knew we wouldn’t be running the entire 5K behind the runners, we didn’t know where we’d be or that we’d be set in a cordoned off area and not allowed to leave our assigned zombie stations. We got onto a bus and were sent to a part of the park that is just an open field, and it made for some really good chases. I did a lot more running and with not as much effort as I thought I would. I survived the heat and the physical activity, although after a few hours we’d transformed from Dawn of the Dead super-bath salts-zombies to straggling, moaning, slow-moving zombies. All in all, I was very proud of myself for being able to actually chase and keep up with some people. I felt bad going for the kids, so I just hung back and some people were visibly exhausted so I told them to hide behind a tree because I might be an undead brain eating abomination, but I’m still sympathetic.

walkingzombie2walkingzombieIt’s suffice to say we had a great time. We were too tired and hungry to stay around for the after race activities, so we went out to eat where we freaked out no more than everyone. (One lady thought we’d been in a bad accident. I guess she feels the Golden Corral’s breakfast buffet is just that good, and it’s on the way to the hospital anyways?) It was my first time doing anything that physical, at least since I was a kid when I ran around for the hell of it all the time just because, and I was famished beyond words. I was glad the breakfast buffet had two types of bacon (yes TWO types). I was a good girl, though, and my second plate consisted mainly of fruit, even though I was eyeing that chocolate fountain pretty hard.

I just look like I still have zombie make-up on because I was awake for like 20 hours.

I just look like I still have zombie make-up on because I was awake for like 20 hours.

I definitely plan to attend next year if there is another Zombie Run. As a zombie, of course. I’m also pretty interested in another 5K that is taking place just two days before my birthday, and it looks pretty intense. The Nola Zombi  run is set-up with a military style obstacle course. I haven’t registered, yet. Yet. According to their website, I still have 84 days 1 hour 58 minutes and 51 seconds.

allthreezombies

Zombies do to where sunglasses. A lady tried to steal mine. After I left them in the grass on accident after someone took our photo, my friend spotted them on the lady’s head. She was a real life zombie it seemed, because she was zoned out on something. I got the sunglasses back though. Because they were $4, and zombie don’t play that.

Cursive Curse Friday, Aug 10 2012 

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Today I was speaking to someone about her son’s switching schools. She was explaining that she and her husband moved him from a public school to a private one. Apparently, the new school requires all of its students to write their classwork and homework in cursive. We discussed the necessity of learning cursive, or rather the significance of it.

As a person who loves writing, it’s difficult for me to admit that I really don’t see the significance in learning cursive. It’s a good skill to know, to be well-rounded and all. But is it really necessary to force students to use only cursive and to give them bad marks or refuse their work if they don’t? I had difficulty learning it, and frankly, my penmanship is deplorable (as illustrated in my last blog post ). Do you know anyone who writes in perfect cursive?

I do. This chick is a beast when it comes to cursive writing. She also happens to read this blog. I don’t think she’s human; she’s more like some otherworldly goddess of script. Her penmanship is so perfect, I’m pretty sure she went through some kind of writing boot camp. I can’t even describe it. Every letter is the same height and width. Each word isn’t just between the lines but actually on the line. It’s unreal. Maybe she’s a robot.

Barring this otherworldly goddess of script robot friend of mine, I haven’t known anyone whose cursive writing is even legible. Most people’s penmanship looks like a serial killer’s confession letter.

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And then there’s typing. I don’t agree with relying on technology or machines without learning to be self-sufficient in certain areas. But since the advent of the typewriter, our need to learn perfect penmanship has become increasingly antiquated.

I love writing, and I can’t over-emphasize the importance of learning to write. However, in this writer’s humble opinion, learning to print efficiently would be much more effective. At least then we would all be able to actually read what others have written.

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Images:FreeDigitalPhotos.net

“It Finally Happened!” Sunday, Jul 1 2012 

I don’t remember a lot from the past. In the last couple of years I’ve developed this frustrating memory problem that’s hindered my recognition. But there are some things which I can recall in vivid detail.

One of those things is sitting in my childhood friends’ living room and watching this video, as mere adolescents emulating the silliness our favorite band’s members were exhibiting. Yes, we were Queen fans even then. This single was released in March 1991. I was eleven.

It was no wonder why it appealed to us then, what with Freddie Mercury’s Mad Hatter attire, John Deacon’s jester’s hat, Roger Taylor with a functioning tea kettle on his head, and Brian May’s enormous beak and penguinesque tuxedo. And, don’t forget the actual penguins.

The making of “I’m Going Slightly Mad” video-Queen

For sure at the time it was funny and cute to us, and we were enthralled by the song as much as the video.

But Freddie passed away later that same year, and it wasn’t until some years later that I was able to understand and appreciate an undertone in this video of which I was before unaware. Freddie’s heavy makeup and the video’s being shot in black in white concealed how ill he really was. As I got older and my appreciation for these artists grew, I learned that Innuendo, off which this song was released as a single, was Queen’s last studio album during Freddie’s life, having been released only ten months prior to his death.

Now back to the video, a little back story about myself, and why this seemingly silly nonsense is so important to me. As I’ve mentioned, I recall seeing this video with the two best friends I had growing up. We lived across the street, and we knew each other as far back as we can remember. They are twins, and I was a single child. But I didn’t long for companionship because we were always together. Except when we were in school and those annoying times when our parents forced us to go inside for sleep.

The Girls

We played outside until it got dark, and sometimes even after that as long as we were in the front or back yard. I had a turntable and a bunch of my parents’ old records and I’d record them to a tape (Shh! Don’t tell. We didn’t know it was piracy back then.) I had a portable cassette player, and we’d listen to music and run around outside until our parents felt we were calm enough to re-enter the house.

Anyway, we listened to a lot of classic rock (still do), and Queen was on the playlist a lot. We had a plush toy named Freddie Flamingo, and he loved to dance to “Don’t Stop Me Now.” I even had the original vinyl Jazz album with all the naked ladies on the inside jacket, most of whom were not fat bottomed, by the way.

One memory I have is of me and my friend, my very dear friend, running amok in my back yard and listening to “You’re My Best Friend.” My friend stopped running-we were literally running-and said, “Donnell, you’re my best friend.” I thanked her and said she was mine, too, and we got back to the business at hand. There’s a reason whenever I listen to A Night at the Opera I skip this song. Even though I still cry all the way through “’39.”

In our early twenties, my dear friend, my best friend, passed away. Her life had gone in a different direction than mine, and I’d watched her become someone I didn’t know. But she’d rediscovered herself, and we were finally getting reacquainted. I spoke to her on either a Sunday or Monday. As I’ve said, my memory is not what it once was. I was visiting my mom, and I asked her to come over. She declined because she didn’t want to leave her grandmother, who was ill. Later that week, my friend went to sleep and suffered a grand mal seizure. If ever death was a thief in the night, it was that night.

“Whenever this world is cruel to me/I got you to help me forgive.” – “You’re My Best Friend” John Deacon, Queen

I want to show you all more photos of my friends, of us together, but in 2005 Hurricane Katrina obliterated my home town. She took my home and with it all the photos and memories I had of my dear friend. The only ones I have now were sent to me by others who were able to salvage their own photos.

The aforementioned is only one part of why this video and Queen’s music in general is so special to me. A big part. But only a part.

I wrote about Innuendo being released only months before Freddie’s passing, and this video being made when he was quite ill. His health was declining, yet he continued to work and create amazing music alongside his band mates.

What I like most, though, is how happy Freddie looks in this video. He looks like he’s having a lot of fun. I find it such an inspiring attribute, being so joyous and knowing he was terminal. It’s something I hang on to in this time of my life, facing the worst challenge ever and knowing it very well might end tragically. I find inspiration in Freddie’s ability to laugh during that time of his life, the months leading up to the end of his life.

However, “I’m Going Slightly Mad” isn’t the only song on Innuendo I find uplifting. There are several, but one that I find more so than others is the song “Don’t Try So Hard.” This song is profound to me-thinking of Freddie writing it at the end of his life, and knowing it. I find comfort in the lyrics, almost the kind you feel receiving guidance from an elder. Someone who’s been down a road on which you hope to embark, artistically I mean. Except that I’m no musician. The song is one I go to when I feel like I’m running on a treadmill of rejection and literary atrophy. It also helps me focus on what is important, even when I feel
overwhelmed. I’d like to share the lyrics now.

“Don’t Try So Hard” Written by Freddie Mercury and Queen from the Innuendo album released in 1991. Lyrics c/o Sing365.com

Of course reading it is not the same as hearing it, which you can do this way QueenOnline.com or by visiting iTunes or any other place, like an actual record store-if they actually exist anymore. I wouldn’t know because the internet enables me to foster my borderline agoraphobia.

Speaking of using the internet, why not take a click on over to The Mercury Phoenix Trust where you can purchase cool merchandise or donate to help the fight against AIDS worldwide. I’m thinking of our next Freddie for a Day activity. This was last year’s.

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Doodles

If I Could Save a Time Machine In a Bottle Tuesday, Dec 20 2011 

Photo credit: Victor Habbick via FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Time travel. The concept has titillated the minds of scientists and science fiction novelists for centuries. Assuming time travel were possible (some claim so) and that there would be no effect on the present or future from outside interference (time space continuum and all that), what would I do if there were a time machine at my disposal?

Firstly, I’m not sure I’d enjoy time travel. I hate to fly, and I have vertigo. Traveling through time is probably similar to traveling into space, a lot of weightlessness and that disgusting feeling you get when your insides are floating around inside of you. It probably involves lots of swirling colored lights and maybe feels like riding Space Mountain on LSD.

Maybe you travel at ten times the speed of light through a tunnel made of LED lights, lightening, and atomic particles. You probably feel like you’ve  been on an airplane for fifty-two thousand hours. Who knows? Scientists probably. But I’m not one.   

So what would I do if I did have the luxury of such said machine, anyway?

First off, I’d like to see a dinosaur in real life. I’ve been to Universal Studios and all, but I want to know what it’s like for real. I realize the danger in this venture. I don’t want to become food for a hungry predator or stomped on by a lumbering brachiosaurus or suffocated in a pile of triceratops poop.

 The trip would take careful planning, and I would probably require a crew of at least ten or so. If science fiction has taught me anything it’s that many of them won’t survive the first journey, and I’d like to have a few left for my next excursion.

After the dinosaurs, I’d probably take a swing through Egypt circa 2630 – 2250 B.C. I’d set up a beach chair in the sand and watch pyramid construction for a while. Next I’d go a bit further in time to take a photo with the Sphinx before its nose wore off.

I would then skip ahead a few years and tell Socrates not to drink the Kool Aid. I’d visit Leonardo and tell him keep up the good work. And I’d like to give Michelangelo a high-five. Maybe we can share a cannoli. Maybe I’d pay a visit to the Bard. But I would pass on the plague. I’d also like to see some real life pirates, even though I’m sure they aren’t as hot or as cool as movie pirates. I’d like to see the debut of Don Giovanni and hear Fur Elise played live for the first time.

I’d then skip ahead a bunch to the beginning of the 1970’s, at the end of which I was born. I’d spend a ton of time in that decade, going to concerts, hanging backstage with my favorite bands. I’d follow Monty Python’s Flying Circus for a while.

I’d probably pop in on myself as a kid a few times. “I’m you from the future!” I’d say. Then the kid me would be like, “Whatever, freak.” But it would be true. So sadly true.

My last adventure as a time traveler would be to convince my parents that I’m a distant relative so that I could whisk the seven/eight year old me to Wembley circa July 1985 & July 1986 to experience two of the greatest shows in rock history.



What would you do if you had a time machine at your disposal?

Ways Not to Impress Your New Boss Wednesday, Dec 14 2011 

Decent work is scarce in today’s world. When upgrading from a not so great job to a better one, there are things that will not make a favorable impression on your new boss(es).

Broadcast your upcoming employment at your current job, to the person who will be your next boss.  This is not helping your image.  If you work in retail, food service, or any job in which you meet the public, there is a level of professionalism that should be maintained. I’ve always thought so, anyway (and yes I’ve worked in both fields). So if you are still working at your current job but have been accepted by a new employer, it’s probably best to refrain from announcing to all present that you will be leaving your current place of employment for greener pastures. Especially not in the presence of the person who will be your next boss. Just like the slogan says, first impressions do indeed last a lifetime.

Put your feet up and don’t pay attention. Supervisors, managers, office managers, and trainers don’t like to waste precious oxygen talking to someone who isn’t paying attention. While in training, it is in a new employee’s best interest to exhibit some sort of interest in the procedures and protocol of his or her new job. Sit up straight and pay attention, or at least pretend to. 

Kick off your shoes. This isn’t the Beverly Hillbillies. Please remain fully clothed, including your shoes, at all times when walking around the office. At your cubicle is one thing, but in the head manager’s office is quite another. I don’t know where this trend started, but I’ve observed it in more than one of my coworkers, current and past, and also while I was still in college. Also going to class in pajamas. Never got that one either.

Be the loudest and most obnoxious person in the room. This one is annoying to not only your boss but to everyone around you. Your new coworkers want a chance to get to know you. Cut back on the energy drinks and take a breath. 

Pull rank. Your dad/mom/uncle/aunt/grandfather/grandmother is your boss’ boss’ best friend. That’s great and probably how you got your job, but keep it to yourself. It isn’t impressing anyone, and announcing it makes you seem like a jackass. If you pay attention and learn your job and do it well, you won’t even need their recommendations.

The Baobab Tree Thursday, Feb 18 2016 

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“Baobab Tree And Fruit Watercolor” by vectorolie via http://freedigitalphotos.net

The Baobab Tree

She pressed her palms against the ancient oak.

Spanish moss hung down

grey and curly, like the hair of an elder woman she once knew.

Rivulets of blood stained the bark,

hundreds of stains mingled,

the essences of a hundred men and women.

She remembered the baobab tree in her village,

the one where the children prayed.

The community matriarch told tales of ghouls,

white, snatching their people up,

violating their women and girls.

Their men were roped like the beasts

that stalked the edges of their village in the night.

The baobab tree witnessed it all-

the ghouls with their explosive weapons shouting.

The ancient oak wept blood.

The baobab wept, too.

 

Donnell Creppel 2016

Ode to a Microwave Friday, Jul 3 2015 

Ode to a Microwave

Why, oh Microwave,
Is my platter so hot?
My food’s edge is smoldering,
Yet the center is not.
Your micro wave power,
Is impressive indeed.
But fully warmed chowder
Is what my mouth needs.
My fingers are seared
From touching this bowl,
My flesh you left blistered,
And my dinner, left cold.

 

 

Copyright Donnell Creppel 2015

 

 

 

 

 

The Heavens are Still Blue Saturday, Feb 21 2015 

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Fresh Thursday, Sep 25 2014 

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“Weeeeeeeee!” (Image courtesy imagerymajestic via Freedigitalphotos.net)

Are you feeling fresh?

We’ve all seen these commercials, I’m sure. “Are you feeling less than fresh DOWN THERE?!” Down there. Because we can say penile forty-seven times in one 30 second commercial, but God forbid anyone say vagina. “Is your hoo-haa smelly?” “Do you have swamp rot of the nether region?”

Yes, we’ve felt less than fresh at times. It happens. It happens to the best of them. Sometimes down there just isn’t up to par in the freshness department. But why do these commercials always take place at the beach or something? Let me state something right now, on behalf of all humans. Do not-repeating Do Not-go to the beach, public pool, or any such equivalent if your womanhood is feeling unclean. Please. We do not want to share your unfreshness. No one wants to stew in the crotch rot of others. (Maybe some people, because I’ve seen things-bad things-and there are sick people in the universe.) Just stay out of the water, for the love of your fellow humans.

And wash your hands. (Image courtesy of jackthumm at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

And wash your hands.
(Image courtesy of jackthumm via FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

I’m not judging. I’ve already said it happens. The CDC wouldn’t recommend it, though. And neither do I.

We ladies know how it is. We don’t always discuss it, maybe only in certain company. But it happens. The vagina is a complex organ, okay. Unexplainable shit happens in that area. It’s especially confusing to non-vagina owners. If you have never owned a vagina, do not try to understand one. I don’t understand that bitch, and it’s mine. What the fuck is happening down there sometimes?

Who knows? (Image courtesy  stockimages via FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

Who knows? (Image courtesy stockimages via FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

I also want to share something with non-vagina owners on behalf of all vagina owners. Click Here. Learn it. Live it. Love it. It’s not that difficult. Y’all can find prehistoric ancient cities buried under the ocean, but you can’t find that shit. It’s not that hard. There’s a diagram and everything.

Summerland. Are You There? Tuesday, Aug 12 2014 

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Image courtesy of sattva/ FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Godspeed on your trek
across the boggy quagmire.
May the weight of your mortal coil
release you.
You’ve been emancipated.
Exit the lightlessness.
Match your tormentors.
No longer be a victim to anguish.
Clutch the dim radiance
filtering through the fog.
Struggle toward its source.
Pass the souls that are adrift
and that do not know they are irrecoverable.
Ignore the tortured souls’ calls.
You are not one of them.
May warmth surround you.
Do not concede to the cold.
Witness kaleidoscopic ambience.
Summerland.
Are you there?

In 1998, Robin Williams was in the film What Dreams May Come based on Richard Matheson’s novel of the same name (released in 1978). Coincidentally, the novel is about a man who goes on a quest after his death to rescue his wife from eternal torment following her suicide. As most everyone is aware, Robin Williams was found dead August 11, 2014 of apparent suicide. He battled addiction and depression. Richard Matheson died June 23, 2013 of natural causes. Maybe they will meet in Summerland.

Learn more about suicide prevention, warning signs, how to get help for yourself or someone you know: http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org

Learn more about What Dreams May Come, Richard Matheson, and the origins of Summerland: Goodreads.

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