10 Jun


death photo: Death imagesCADA2R2W.jpg
The thing about fame and celebrity is when an icon dies everyone gets to hear about it, especially now in the age of tweets and blogs. We splutter in virtually incomprehensible conversations and finally come out with a random bunch of comments like:
– I didn’t know he/she was still around anyway…
– I guess he/she’s had a good innings…
There’s another one biting the dust…
Maybe it was all those drugs he/she talked about, years ago…

And in the middle of it all we’re reminded of our own mortality. Again. And again.

If So-and-So Rich-Kid can die, what hope is there for us? Immortality would be nice, but it’s just not going to come in our life-time. Though there are rumours of phenomenal medical breakthroughs … We’ll be living to a thousand before long… The scientists will get it right in the end, they’re bound to, in time for…


You and little me blessed with a thousand years? No bad knees? No heart murmurs? No high blood pressure? No agonized pain in the lumbar? No resorting to that rainbow collection of little pills that is keeping us going even as I type?

A thousand years to live and love? Just think of all that sex!

But if So-and-So didn’t make it I reckon it’s all a pie-in-the-sky hope. A never-to-come pipe-dream. A sort of replacement for religion. Banish God and his Heaven and you take away hope. Hope for a future. An Elysium better than the here and now, an eternity in which we find the one thing we’ve really wanted since we were born. Permanence.

Instead So-and-So died. In his eighties, true, but dead as a million dodos. A face who is now truly from the past. A talent that had its moment, and faded completely away.

Whither now, you might ask.

It’s sure as anything not Heaven … but wouldn’t it be good if it were?

Deconstruct the thinking.

I don’t want to die, so… so if I must let’s go somewhere else, somewhere that’s not so bloody limited as now is, by approximately three score years and ten … let’s make it an eternity … that’s right, something that lasts longer than even the Universe will last … let’s give it a sort of King, an Immortal, to keep things in order … call him God if you like … and loads and loads of virgins, doesn’t matter whet they think about things, I never knew one here on Earth, in this life, and they say it’s the best sex ever…

…And fluffy clouds and lutes and lyres and singing folksy songs and always you with me, you, my darling lover/mother/wife…

…And everything’s so perfect it’s a damned good job it’ll last for ever…

…Like life on Earth never could…

© Peter Rogerson 10.06.15


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