August 28th, 2023 - The Autopsy

Dear TNY,

Just finished “The Autopsy” and I’m chuckling.

And I don’t think chuckling is the intended emotion, but whatever.  Each to their own.

The intro was a little clunky.  But the content was unique enough and the descriptions were rich enough that I worked my way into it.  The autopsy itself was written in scene, which felt exactly right.  To be in the room while he was doing the work.  So, despite the clunkiness, I slipped into the voice within half a page and was on the move with the story.  So far so good.

Then, the doctor goes away and so does any of my interest in the story.  Because we switch to the mom of the corpse, and her story is all summary.  And it’s summary of her whole life.  So it’s passing at a rate that, unless it’s done perfectly (see: Jenny Hollowell’s “A History of Everything, Including You”), is impossible to connect to.  I began to skim because, you know, it was boring.  I stumbled a little bit by the confusion over who the father of her baby was, the uncle or her own father, but I didn’t care enough to get “wowed” by that.  And the story kept fast forwarding until she was back at the hospital, which was relieving because maybe the story would get going again.  But instead, an immaculate conception is alluded to and then I knew the story with the slits in the corpse’s back.  And the rest was just watching that story play out, except it was done sloppily.

For instance, if God is doing this, as we are to believe based on the references to Jesus and then the others…guys, God is all knowing.  So wouldn’t he know that Jesus wasn’t going to work and the other guys weren’t going to work either (also, why not try a woman, God?)?  And maybe God knows it’s not going to work, and we are seeing it from the angel’s/offspring’s perspective?  They don’t know?  Also, God cannot be so dumb that he thinks that someone playing the flute in 2023 is going to capture the attention of humanity.  I say that though, and there’s Lizzo (not a fan, but that’s a rant for another time and place and I probably should just keep that to myself).  But Lizzo isn’t making God’s music.  I don’t think she’s making Satan’s music either, by the way.  Just pabulum for the masses.  Yay!

And let’s discuss “work” with regard to continually sending people here on God’s part.  Did he not send Jesus to die for our sins?  Job done, right?  What were the others for? More sins? How many sins does one immaculate birth cover? How many of the other ones had to die and if they died wrong does it still count on the sin coverage?  What is a failed mission on God’s part?  If Jesus worked, there would be no need for another.  Ever.  And if Jesus’ death was misinterpreted by Christianity, and there was a need, then what God couldn’t see what was going to happen? Why keep doubling down on what isn’t working, God? Then again, if you are still with us at this point, big guy, why do you keep doubling down on us at all, which is clearly not working? Or if this is all according to plan, and this is working, then why is anyone worried? Everything is horrible and that’s all according to your plan, so huzzah! We are saved!

Organized religion doesn’t ring true to me, TNY. I’m guessing you’re picking that up.  To me, it seems like texts written by humans to contain something they can’t understand and/or the texts exist to control people.  So from the outset, I don’t think this story is going to ring true.  But if it is, then it has to match the other fiction (religion) that it’s married to.  And what I’m trying to say is this doesn’t obey, to me, the lore of Christianity.  And by not doing so, it causes the story to unravel.

You gave me an autopsy scene, and I was intrigued.  And by the time the story was over, I was reading a religious fiction that seemed, and excuse my ironic phrasing, made up. Hence chuckling.

Also, from a translation standpoint, I don’t know what to do with things like the “elastic bags” description.  It makes no sense in English but was probably translated correctly.  How much wiggle room does the translator get to make things work in another language?  Or are their hands tied? 

In other news, I finished the obituary.  I’m flying up to Anchorage this week.  It’s looking like I’ll have to read it at the memorial.  The memorial…fuck. 

Everything is happening.  And nothing is happening, also.  I feel like I’m deep in time dilation.  On one hand, I’m fighting depression and the bed has been a lot of my time, trying really hard to get through each day because I know there will be future days that won’t feel like this, but those bed days pass so agonizingly slow.  On the other hand, shit is just flying by.  I can’t recall getting into this river, you know?  But I feel like it’s just getting faster and faster and I have less time to look at what’s happening around me.  Like, I’m just swimming to stay afloat and hoping that at some point it will slow down.  But my experience from talking to older folks is that time will just keep speeding up until one day it won’t be anything anymore.  No more time at all.  And then someone will be granted the unenviable task of writing my obituary.  I say unenviable as, having recently done this, it’s a real kick in the dick.  Or vagina.  Or whatever you have betwixt your legs (or where your legs once were, for the amputees).

I guess what I’m saying is that I sometimes know what’s going to happen next.  But shit is getting out of pocket now and I really don’t know what’s going to happen.  I remember watching this documentary called Surfwise. In it, the father of the family gathers them all around the picnic table at their campground. And he puts a dime on the table and asks, “Do you know what that is?” Everyone says, “No.” And he says, with joy in his heart, “That’s our last dime.” That’s how I feel. Almost giddy right now because anything can happen. And that flips to terrified. In fact, it flip-flops all day long. So right now I’m happy the feeling is giddy. But I know terror is coming. Fuck, I got asked about my Christmas plans today and I was at a loss and experienced both happiness and terror. 

Anyway, speaking of Christmas, full circle here, I’m glad none of the other immaculate children became Jesus because I can only handle one Christmas.

See you next week, where I have no idea where I will be.

Nick

P.S. I just reread the Hollowell story I linked and reexperienced how beautiful it is, thereby reexperiencing how beautiful we all are, living these seemingly meaningless lives, yet each one is a vast, rich thing that cannot ever be known by anyone else but us. But you. But me. This is my life. The greatest show I’ll ever watch. It will contain the best songs I’ll ever hear. It will hold the most laughter I’ll ever know. It will cover the most miles I can cover and I will touch as many lives as I can with my limited runtime. I’ll see everything there is for me to see. And I’ll love as much as I possibly can. I’ll use my time in the way that only I can use it and, when it’s done, it will have been what I always should’ve been doing. And you? You’ll do the exact same thing. In your exact way. And if that isn’t beautiful then I sure as shit don’t know what is.