Got a bit of a scare just yesterday. It was Rosh Hashanna which is Irrelevant other than for the very droll reminder that Kol Nidre was soon to be upon us. Rabbi Isiah ben McDougal with his side kick Yarmelke Moishe always gathers the parkarians together reminding them that this is when we remember the dead. It remains esoteric and strange for most of them. I realised this, soon after being Rejected for Bar Mitzvah lessons in the house of Israel (Ed: no no no Medici : we are not going down that road again) How can you only remember dead Folks, and others, one day a year? If I really put my mind Together, I can remember the dead twenty four seven threesixtyfive and a quarter. Unconsciously not wanting to Appear any thing but consequent, I had a rather strange Epiphany with all this death Talk going on. Fancy word that but for once Bang on. I was sound asleep ,Wedged between two thunderous thighs beneath a mountain of duvets When in my very mind’s eye appeared Pablo the Basset. Sill Larger than life and well anchored to the earth by his low centre of gravity: with huge Etiolated ears dangling way down below his ankles. Even his trailing waft of Pick n Pay Packaged kibble bubbled up in my Olfactories. And then he spoke. Yikes, my body went into Rigors when I heard his almost Forgotten low level voice. How you doing Medici? , my my my how you have grown, he said. I tried to Answer but It just came out as high pitched squeaks and Dribbles of flubbable unintelligible waffle, billowing jowls and scrabbling feet (ED; with those sharp toenails) For Fuk’s sake Medici shut-up and go back to sleep, commanded a muffled voice from above the thighs and duvets. Goodness, I was attempting to say, was it that long ago that you died? when I was still but a small pup? Or was it that those unbelievably droopy eyes some how acted as reverse binoculars? Funny thoughts emerge when you cant speak and you are ensconced in a Melange of duvets, thighs and a heaving bed, periodically berating you: Erev Kol Nidre. and Reb Isiahs brogue lilting deep in the sleeping head.
I went off to Dr Dov that very morning. Death has always troubled me, it has never made sense and also falls as a heavy burden of resistance when ever I contemplate going about doing Anything great and meaningful. It begs Questions like for why? Is it worth the Effort? Would it not be more Now to do a certain Something rather than to work so Fukkin hard for something else which we may not live to enjoy share or even Spread? (Ed: relax Medici all unlikely in your case, but noble thought nevertheless) Play Jazz rather, improvise immediately Don’t try a twenty voice magnum opus in E flat which will take yonks to pen, print, publish and have other’s perform (Ed: once!). Dr Dov has never been able to solve my Thanatophobia, yet whenever the gnarled Grizzlies appear in my head, I need to have them eradicated. He appears to be able to do the Job. CBT* he calls it and it comes much more expensive than the old lie down and talk routines of old. But, it helps and I am able to shake the shackles of Madness and take the odd step forward unquestioningly after a session or two of his assistance and the Depletion of my banking accounts
Come on Medici what have we been telling you all these years, said the chorus of truth in unison as expounded by Josephus and Jean my intellectual Benefactors. Just look at History and Philosophy they trumpeted, while marching on their immaculately paved path of super Rationality. Walk with us they reminded me and on the Eve of your demise you will really be ready for the long rest and acknowledge the tyranny of Immortality. Would you really like to watch the world go up and down up and down up and down up and down……up and down up and down? Forget Kol Nidre, it’s in Aramaic anyway** and rather dwell on the Music: haunting and beautiful*** Remember the Abrahmics and all of them are really nothing but Death Cults and hopefully your CBT and association with us, will get you Totally out of it. Revel in the delight of having known Pablo and smile when you gleefully remember the Epic day he caused a major room evacuation with only one of his lesser Pick n Pay kibble Farts.
Sometimes life really fails me
for it really is an impossibility
that we finally end
unable to comprehend
but none the less one shuns immortality.
*or sometimes, RBT
** Apparently you can only address Big D-g in the Sky in Hebrew if its good stuff. Kol Nidre and Kuddish are bad and therefore in Aramaic. Makes sense.
*** Max Bruch for cello and orchestra. Dum dah deed-dah etc etc and a chorus of dah dada dee, dad dah, dah dah deeeeee.