6-3: Your uniforms don't fit we

It's been a weird day. Let me get my bearings...

She said "I know what it's like to be dead.
I know what it is to be sad"
And she's making me feel like I've never been born.

That was a John Lennon lyric, from "She Said She Said," a very peculiar song off Revolver with a very interesting story. You can easily look it up.

Today was such a weird fucking day. I woke up at 8, like I suggested I might. I ended up feeling very uncool because of that, so I doubt I'll be repeating the experiment. As a matter of fact I think I'll spend a lot of tomorrow sleeping as a way of making up for it. But I did manage to get properly down to brass tacks as a result.

I've been having difficulty in finding meaningless summer work. When I think I'm onto something, I prefer not to talk about it as a matter of not jinxing it. It worked at HMV so I'll keep similarly mum here, but I did something today that stands a great chance of working out well, once I get past my initial trepidation. It'll make a good story... no, that's a lie, but that's better than saying "it'll make a, y'know, average blog or so."

I petered around today, did a little work, and realized I was getting behind. It was stank hot outside so it was okay to hole up in the basement and take care of business. The day passed virtually without incident, the usual TV, the usual lunchfood, the usual quick pointless excursions. The whole damn routine right down to dinnertime. Then sometime after that, around 6:00, Brandon emerges from his room and tells me to check a website where I learn Chris Benoit has died.

I don't talk about pro wrestling much here; comics either for that matter, it's just not what people probably want to hear and I frankly don't get much pleasure talking about either with people not already obsessed. So the name Chris Benoit hasn't much come up over the blog, but the rundown is he was generally acknowledged as being the best wrestler, possibly of the past 20 years. And people can say, oh, wrestling's fake, they're all just juiced-up bad actors and bullshit like that. And I couldn't say anything to dissuade anyone of that pursuasion, but watching Benoit perform, demonstrate his ability and passion in the ring, gave me the last laugh on those people. His work allowed me to enjoy something that I was very often ashamed of for how outrageous it could otherwise be. And now, like his equally-talented friend Eddie Guerrero only 18 months ago, Chris Benoit is dead.

Many years ago, in grade school, I was having one of my usual sleepover-birthdays. I'm thinking Grade 5. Nick J. and I were talking about wrestling (it was very popular at the time) and I talked about how Bret Hart was probably the greatest Canadian wrestler, when he countered me and suggested "The Canadian Crippler" Chris Benoit probably was. At the time I didn't know him, because he worked for WCW at the time and I was a WWF faithful, but eventually, as most of the best ones do, he found himself in WWF where he quickly made his mark and became at home. I stopped watching for a few years in 2001, and around 2004 when I was ready to try it again, with a better idea of what I was looking at, Benoit was being portrayed as someone destined to win the World Title. A big deal. And ever since I've considered him among my favourites. He won the world title not long after I returned to watching, and defended against a young challenger named Randy Orton in Toronto in August 2004. He lost that match but it was so incredible for me to see it really left a mark. A month ago he returned to the Air Canada Center and seemed as big a deal as ever. The echos of that August night have quietly lingered.

The most disgusting part is the circumstances of his death. They are very controversial and, to me, recall the gruesome details of Phil Hartman's untimely death 8 years ago, only twistedly backwards. Because he died along with his wife Nancy and their son Daniel, they are investigating it as a double-murder/suicide, which seems unthinkable. I'm taking it with salt, knowing that investigations can develop and the the police have to err on the side of foul play. I certainly don't want to believe and will remain skeptical, but if it comes out that this man, whom I counted among my heroes, murdered his family, I will have to face that grim reality. My brother Brandon is obsessed with that possibility, and quite distraught. He doesn't live much outside of pro wrestling and hasn't handled it very well. He has the same stomach for the awful aspects of life that our mother does. Can't withstand it. Me, although I am very sad, am also reserved, at least until everything is known. Time will tell, and I only hope that all the man has been and done in the end is not undone by the manner in which it ended.

I've been thinking a lot about death recently. I'm thinking of stipulating in my will a playlist to be collected and played at my wake, to remember the good times. It would feature mainly poignant and evocative classic rock tunes. Appropriate to the somber mood, but reflective and reassuring. "Hey Jude." "Strawberry Fields Forever" (and perhaps "A Day in the Life,") "You Can't Always Get What You Want." "Freebird." "Baba O'Riley." "Wish You Were Here." Maybe for personal reasons, "No More No More" (as it was playing at the moment I learned my Great Grandma had died) but more likey, "What it Takes," a ballad they released on Pump... beautiful; will cause many healthy tears. And also "Tumbling Dice" because of how much I like that song. Those are just my first thoughts. I have a zenlike view of death (appropriate given my general Buddhist thing) and I only hope to live as well as I can, accomplish as much as I can and love as deeply as I can before I am gone. And also, you know, that it happens a really long time from now and isn't painful. Of course, I read that John Lennon interview published the month of his death, and a number of his remarks concerned the future and death and so forth, so I hope to avoid such ill portent.

Not going much further tonight. I'd rather that the is the last I speak about death for a while (but that probably can't be so.) Show your loved ones what you think.

I think I should do some writing soon and let something out. Probably won't go outside much tomorrow for fear of an exploding sun. And it's supposed to thunderstorm this week, so cabin fever here I come.

I said "Who put all those things in your head?
Things that make me feel that I'm mad
And you're making me feel like I've never been born."

Keep on rockin'
-Scott