I like this discussion about suicide that has been going on around here. You guys are wonderful and I'm proud to be working with you. So I'll say something else too. I think when people kill themselves it is like they open the back door on the plane and they accidently take some people with them. In a poem I've posted here I say if you shoot yourself you crack the bio-dome. (Here is The No Hemlock Rock on my blog in stanzas, I posted it here as a paragraph), I am prepared to insist that suicide should be morally forbidden is because it causes massive harm to the people who know you, and know of you, and know your work. Most of the great atheists in history have asserted our right to take our own life, but I don't side that way. They were emphasizing that we owe nothing to the universe, I am emphasizing that we owe this to each other.
One thing that predicts suicide a little is having suicide in the family already. If our community is in any way a family than what David said in his post has pretty much got to be true: Suicide is contagious. But it isn't respiratory, talking about it makes it less likely to fester and kill.
If you are dying and you want to hurry the thing up that's one thing, but if you just despise yourself and curse the air, tough tits, you have to stay.
Make art, make a mess, climb on the furniture. Scream and cry. But don't kill yourself, for the sake of everyone else. Please accept my thanks. Thank you for not killing yourself. I know how hard it is and I am grateful. Thank you for staying. Let's just owe that to each other.
You don't have to understand everything all the time, just note that we are all connected and that if you write and publish and post you exponentially increase the number of people who get their hearts all scarred up just because you didn't know how much harm it would do. So just don't. If you would like a written thank you note, I suppose something could be arranged.
Do you swoon for miss stevie smith (1902-1971)? of course you do. I think we could use a morsel of her or two.
First of all you should know this great poet story, so I'll remind: Coleridge always said that he wrote his great Kubla Khan after dreaming it in an opium-induced sleep, and that after he got a few stanzas down from this vivid dream a business man from the town of Porlock knocked on Coleridge's door and after their conversation ended, Coleridge went back to his desk, the dream had vanished. That is why the full title of the poem is "Kubla Khan; or A Vision in a Dream: A Fragment."
Okay, so here is the first part of smith's poem:
Person from Porlock
Coleridge received the Person from Porlock
And ever after called him a curse
Then why did he hurry to let him in?
He might have hid in the house.
It was not right of Coleridge
in fact it was wrong (But often we all do wrong)
As the truth is I think, he was already stuck
With Kubla Khan.
He was weeping and crying, I am finished, finished
I shall never write another word of it,
When along comes the Person from Porlock
And takes the blame for it.
It was not right it was wrong,
But often we all do wrong.
Smith then goes on the tumble around in her nursery rhymes for a few stanzas, and then: