Quoth the raven: … (*insert last-laughing here)

March 13, 008
Black Rockalypse

We didn’t bury him. Per his requests, we built a Zoroastrian “Tower of Silence,” and craned Dragnet’s body to the top of it so the sun could bake it and the birds could eat it.

We all put in our “death requests” a couple meetings ago, outlining how we’d like to be disposed of in case our time on Earth came to an end within these Not-Walls.

Quite a number of inhabitants out here chose to go the Parsi way. We do compost, separate, and reuse just about everything, so it’s logical. And since the strangely horrifying ectoplasmic vibrations we collectively received moments after the raven incident, we all agreed the birds out here shouldn’t be hunted, ever again. So there’s no chance of cannibalism once-removed.

In general out on the Black Rock Desert, and way more so now … we all feel a palpably heightened sense of oneness with all that surrounds us, and what happens when we try to interfere with the experience of other living things without asking.

Blame it on all the open space. No walls to stop the flow.

——–

I love my dog Bruno. He is a handsome, 95-pound ball of fur and unconditional love who could kill things on my behalf. He is the only one I’m talking to at the moment.

Everyone else is in the Crack Rock, mourning Dragnet’s passing and Rabbi’s disappearance … processing things, dealing with Not-Us abandonment issues, and staying warm. Not me — I’m at my duct-taped laptop, vomiting into my stupid diary … most of which nobody can read, for security reasons, until this trial is over. My trailer is cold, but cozy.

Dragnet’s favorite method of fuel disposal. Don’t do this

——–

Looks like it might snow for a few days. Yeah, you’re thinking it, so I’ll say it: At least Dragnet’s body won’t start to stink. Hopefully the ravens will have their feast before it gets hot.

We’re still arguing about what to do with the bones. We like bones, but we also know some things are sacred.

Yall might be grossed out, but to us, it’s comforting to have Dragnet’s body over there, 50 feet in the air, way out by the Black Rock … the center of our universe, off to the side and out of our reach.

The Black Rock: our cold, dark, unforgiving Not-Sun.

Me, I decided on the Tower of Silence too. It gives me great pause to meditate on my eventual death, if my body is to be disposed of in this way. A Viking funeral pyre would be more metal, and theatrically to my liking — but that type of ceremony uses resources rather than giving them out.

When you know birds might eventually, literally peck out your eyes… every breath smells a lot sweeter. Every step feels lighter and heavier. All three elements of the universe within — mind, body, spirit — begin to separate and collaborate, rather than jumble together and ignore each other.

Ravens will swirl and dive, and feast on my flesh. But I’m still alive, for now, and I can feel everything, right down to the platelets.