John Green’s lead character in Looking for Alaska was fixated on people’s last words. While the book didn’t do a whole lot for me (spoiler: I don’t love him), that triggered curiosity which sent me on a months long journey into last words and last acts and generally last realities.
Years ago I toured Graceland. Sidestepping the cultural negativity of that home’s past and looking at a purely design and architectural viewpoint, what Elvis did to that house was an abomination. Each room grew more and more clashing and eye sore. At the end they took us by the racquetball court (or maybe hand ball, don’t remember, details Mia, details). The morning he passed away he played hours of the sport before going to the bathroom and dying in the lest elegant way possible.
My group (avid Elvis fans BTW) found a bit of humor in that because if you know anything about Elvis by the end of his life he was taking artistic hedonism to the Nth degree. We’re not even sure how he handled that many hours of the sport with out having the attack during the playtime.
What will be my last words as I lay dying, or dead, or oblivious to death’s imminent arrival. I do hope that because of a life so lived it fairly bursts at the seams my words are as epically droll as ‘I’m bored with it all.”
