by cheryl!! SANTA!! MARIA!!
Seven years ago I was involved in a car accident. The whole thing looked a lot worse than it was, but I bring it up time and again because it’s the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to me. I was stuck in the hospital for four days. I spent most of the time staring up at the ceiling and feeling sorry for myself. While the injuries were minor, the incident still sends shivers down my spine.
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I mean, one minute you’re in the backseat of a car minding your own business, and the next minute you’re screaming and sliding and being thrown this way and that and there’s glass and there’s skidding … Ugh. The point, my friends, is that life can be quite unpredictable. Every once in awhile you will be reminded that your bones can break, that sickness can take over, and that you are, in fact, impermanent.
That’s a hard pill for most of us to swallow. Especially when we’re young. I mean, did Sid Vicious, with his body pumped full of drugs, think he was going to pass on to the Great Beyond when he settled down for a nap on that fateful day in February?
I think not.
Did Heath Ledger worry about the same? What about Janis Joplin? Or Jimi Hendrix?
Shit.
I don’t mean to get all preachy on you people but indulge me for a moment: Drugs are bad. I mean, I could go on and on about all the people we’ve lost to heroin and cocaine but we’d be here all day. Do yourself, and your loved ones, a favor.
Stick to weed, ok?
Alright. I’m finished with the preaching. And now back to death. People die. Icons die. And when this happens, it is very sad.
Joey DAMMIT! One of “Toronto’s premier pop artists” has taken this notion and turned it into ART, dammit. His exhibit will run from Feb 14-26 at Toronto’s Gladstone Hotel and will feature “over 30 new paintings about the famous and the infamous, and their deaths by misadventure”.
That’s very cool, man. I want exclamation points in my name, too. Cheryl!! SANTA!! MARIA!!
Yeah.
Anyway, I like the Gladstone Hotel, even though some of the frequenters are the pretentious-arty-snobby type. That being said, I’m going to check out this exhibit. I hope, hope hope, he has something on Michael Hutchence. I mean the man’s death practically defines (link slightly NSFW) death by misadventure, no?
Click here for more (limited) info.
One Comment
I was in a car accident too. Driver was drunk, car flipped, we stopped less than a foot from a large boulder that would have smashed directly into my face. I remember stumbling back to my apartment shaking and in tears, full of questions and no answers.
A month later, my roomate burned our apartment to the ground. He lost everything he owned except for his bong and a sock full of 3,000 dollars. No idea how the sock survived. I remember him falling to his knees in our yard and crying his eyes out as the flames danced up the side of the building.
These two events made me re-asses my own mortality in a way I’d never experienced. I think of those tears we both shed and what they meant. It was a strange month.