**DISCLAIMER: I feel as though I should include a disclaimer here, but I do not know what on earth the disclaimer would say other than maybe “Don’t worry about me,” I guess. Don’t worry about me.
I believe that I am done. Finished. I am ready to move on. Everything in this world that has ever required me to complete it has been completed now.
This is not a cry for help; I’m just done.
The thing you should understand is I’m not really interested in anything more anymore, and I have always held that if a time came along when I was not really interested in anything more anymore, then I would not drag out the inevitable. Today, nothing resonates and everything falls apart.
I am not really interested in anything more anymore.
This is not a suicide note. No, my suicide note will have a better opening line.
To do it, I will have to do it in a way where there’s no backing out. No puking the pills, no dialing nine-one-one, no missing my target or bandaging my arm. To do it right, I will have to use the buildings. There are a million of ‘em in downtown Houston, and I know each and every balcony. I know all the good ledges, the easy-to-reach elevator shafts, and the better operational fire escapes, too.
I will use the buildings. There is no backing out once you’ve stepped off a ledge.
So that is what I will do.
I have seen three jumpers over the years. I saw this one guy actually do it and I saw the aftermaths of two others. I sure wish I had not seen that. They were a mess. People were standing around crying.
When one jumper jumped, he came down on the hood of a car but then he bounced, and finally, he landed in the street and he stayed there.
Some fire fighters happened to be first on the scene, and they draped a sheet over this splatter that used to be called Dwayne. The covered splatter formerly known as Dwayne lay in the street for four hours while the police completed their “investigation.”
I do not want to end up like Dwayne. I do not want to ruin anybody’s day. I do not even want to ruin anybody’s car. I mean, my God, what if I landed on somebody?
Nobody else needs to get messed up physically or messed up psychologically just because I am ready to move on.
Okay then, so how about this? What if I do it like this? I have seen these sorts of… tubesthat they’ll hang out of the upper floors of buildings when they are gutting them for renovation. Trash tubes or trash chutes, I guess, you know? And they’ll run the chutes from way up high and then all the way down into a dumpster or into a dump truck or something like that.
I do not want to end up like Dwayne, and if I step off a ledge into a trash chute, then I will not end up like Dwayne.
To work, it will have to be one hell of a trash chute, though. Too short and the fall will not be far enough to finish me. Too narrow and I can use the sides to slow my fall. Too slanted and I’ll basically have a kid’s slide on my hands.
So to avoid ending up like Dwayne, I have to find a chute that is slick and a chute that is wide and a chute that goes straight down. I am not sure I have ever seen one that fits the bill.
I have to do some research on that.
My ideal suicide chute might not exist. I might even have to build it myself, and that sounds expensive.
If I build my suicide chute strong enough and wide enough and straight enough, then other people can use it too, if they are ready to move on but do not want to end up like Dwayne.
Maybe I can get government funding. This sounds like something they might like in Scandinavia, if Scandinavia has any tall buildings.
I have to do some research on that.
Private investors might be the better way to go. I can find investors and then I can incorporate, which isn’t hard to do, really. It is just one sheet of paper that you fill out and then file with your Secretary of State’s office along with some nominal fee.
I can find some investors – just a few will do – and I can form “SNUFFCO.” I can build the perfect, permanent suicide chute somewhere in downtown Houston. And we can have people handing out fliers at the top – “Jesus Loves You” and “Call Your Mom” and “Suicide Hotline of Texas” – and we can rent space to a crematorium at the bottom. You know, to keep things tidy.
We can even rig up a stereo and some huge speakers so that people can listen to an appropriately tragic and relevant song of their choice on the way down.
I have to do some research on good death songs.
The thing is, pretty soon? Every city is going to want its very own suicide chute.
“SNUFFCO: No muss, no fuss, no collateral damage!”
This is a great idea. This is an idea that will work. (Are you in?)
I need to write this down. Let’s see: I need to 1) research building materials. Maybe find a business partner who is an engineer; 2) research laws against assisted suicide and/or get current laws changed; 3) look into incorporation; 4) find investors; 5) gather a collection of the world’s best death songs; 6) talk to the owners of some of the downtown skyscrapers, especially ones that house a lot of law firms; 7) research the history of-
Oh. There is so much to learn and I am so interested in learning all of it.
Well now, I had better get started. This is going to take me some time and there is so much for left for me to do before I am done!
**The pictures on this one are all by the weird and wonderful Uetsuji Shotaro.