Of Thoughts While Grave-digging...
Monday, 19 June 2006 15:50![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
curtkenobiIn the wee hours of this morning, my granny's dog, Tzusi (alternately -- and more easily -- spelt Susie) died. She was completely broken up about it, so she had my mum, me and my mum's friend come over to bury the dog....
This isn't funny, but it is. I have a subconscious block against entering a house with something dead inside. So I stood outside and had visions of the movie White Noise going through my head -- you know the part near the end with the bad spirits zipping about? The old barn in my grandmother's backyard wasn't helping the illusion with it's pitch-black windows, as well as the night sky being oddly light and a purplish red. Oh, and it was drizzling.
Finally my mum's friend and I were shown where to dig the grave at. What you have to understand is that this was like the doggie graveyard side of the very back of my granny's yard. But, there aren't any markers, of course. So Granny pointed out an area where she thought no one else was buried, and we started digging.
I couldn't help the Shallow Grave flashbacks. My mum's friend, never having seen the movie, but understanding my Ewan-obsession, needed to be enlightened. So I filled her in on the whole dead roomate, lots of cash in a briefcase, wanna keep cash so gotta stash the body deal. How they had to draw straws (which was how the whole discussion was started, I mentioned how at least we hadn't drawn straws and one of us didn't have to like saw off feet and hands and bust out teeth.)
And then I discovered a fair portion of somebody's death-shroud. "Oh, my god! That's somebody's blankie!" We both squealed. She and I are horribly superstitous. So we moved away from that part of the hole and dug to the right and towards me.
I like digging holes. I even said that. Don't know if I'd do it well as a profession, but i can dig. Something to do with application of strength and repressed anger. And so I said I needed to go to New York and work for the Mafia. I said I should make a business card: "Writer/Tattoo Artist/Gravedigger -- Need a cover story? Want a tattoo to memorialise it? Just need someone to dig the hole? Call me." She added that if they got all three they got a discount.
And then she uncovered somebody's blankie. But she didn't realise it (despite me repeatedly saying, "Dude, that's somebody's blankie. Dude -- that is somebody's blankie.") -- to be honest, it was a towel -- but she scraped at it and the realisation hit. She jumped back. "Ah, shit, man. We are going to hell. We are so going to hell."
We decided to dig back towards her. It was me digging while she took a break and hear this noise -- it was so damned weird. I screamed. I mean, we had just uncovered somebody else's blankie, and here I am still digging and I hear this noise like water running underground and I can just see the skeletal dogs coming to kick my arse.
It was her stomach growling. Holy shite.
But finally we got the dog buried (her, Mum and Granny while I watched my baby brother).
That was some trippy stuff, though. But, I still think I may have a career in gravedigging if everything else falls through. What I thought was most wild, though: I had taken a past life test on blogthings, and here's what it said: I was: A Forlorn Undertaker....I lived in: Scotland...I died: In Childbirth. So supposedly I was a Scottish female undertaker in a past life. Kinda freaky when things circle back round.
Finally my mum's friend and I were shown where to dig the grave at. What you have to understand is that this was like the doggie graveyard side of the very back of my granny's yard. But, there aren't any markers, of course. So Granny pointed out an area where she thought no one else was buried, and we started digging.
I couldn't help the Shallow Grave flashbacks. My mum's friend, never having seen the movie, but understanding my Ewan-obsession, needed to be enlightened. So I filled her in on the whole dead roomate, lots of cash in a briefcase, wanna keep cash so gotta stash the body deal. How they had to draw straws (which was how the whole discussion was started, I mentioned how at least we hadn't drawn straws and one of us didn't have to like saw off feet and hands and bust out teeth.)
And then I discovered a fair portion of somebody's death-shroud. "Oh, my god! That's somebody's blankie!" We both squealed. She and I are horribly superstitous. So we moved away from that part of the hole and dug to the right and towards me.
I like digging holes. I even said that. Don't know if I'd do it well as a profession, but i can dig. Something to do with application of strength and repressed anger. And so I said I needed to go to New York and work for the Mafia. I said I should make a business card: "Writer/Tattoo Artist/Gravedigger -- Need a cover story? Want a tattoo to memorialise it? Just need someone to dig the hole? Call me." She added that if they got all three they got a discount.
And then she uncovered somebody's blankie. But she didn't realise it (despite me repeatedly saying, "Dude, that's somebody's blankie. Dude -- that is somebody's blankie.") -- to be honest, it was a towel -- but she scraped at it and the realisation hit. She jumped back. "Ah, shit, man. We are going to hell. We are so going to hell."
We decided to dig back towards her. It was me digging while she took a break and hear this noise -- it was so damned weird. I screamed. I mean, we had just uncovered somebody else's blankie, and here I am still digging and I hear this noise like water running underground and I can just see the skeletal dogs coming to kick my arse.
It was her stomach growling. Holy shite.
But finally we got the dog buried (her, Mum and Granny while I watched my baby brother).
That was some trippy stuff, though. But, I still think I may have a career in gravedigging if everything else falls through. What I thought was most wild, though: I had taken a past life test on blogthings, and here's what it said: I was: A Forlorn Undertaker....I lived in: Scotland...I died: In Childbirth. So supposedly I was a Scottish female undertaker in a past life. Kinda freaky when things circle back round.
